Author: U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio
Back on March 31, 2026, Rizzoli released Views of America: The Diplomatic Reception Rooms at the U.S. Department of State, a richly illustrated volume celebrating the fine and decorative arts housed in 42 rooms at the Harry S. Truman building in Washington D.C. These rooms, which are open to the public, are home to a significant yet little-known cultural collection.
Many of the objects in the Diplomatic Reception Rooms were created, owned, and used by the men and women who dreamed of self-government and who made independence a reality. The collection reflects the pride, craftsmanship, and spirit of 18th- and early 19th-century America.
Remarkably, the Rooms and their collection were constructed, amassed, and continue to be maintained exclusively through the private gifts of philanthropic and patriotic individuals. Collectively, they are a testimony to the civic engagement and generosity of the American people and to their desire to advance American diplomacy.
In celebration of the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence and the birth of the nation, Secretary of State Marco Rubio penned the following foreword to Views of America:
Perhaps the greatest architectural symbol of American diplomatic hospitality is named in honor not of a Secretary of State or President but of one of our first diplomats. At first glance, the monumental Benjamin Franklin State Dining Room – with its gold-topped neoclassical columns, expansive and sumptuous carpets in the style of the finest 18th century British country estates, and magnificent views of our capital city – might seem at odds with the homespun reputation of the father of American diplomacy.
This porcelain group depicts Louis XVI of France in courtly martial costume, united with the American cause for independence, represented by Benjamin Franklin, plainly clothed and gesturing humbly.
But on reflection, besides being an appropriate tribute to an American hero, the room reflects the uniquely American perspective on diplomacy that developed even from Franklin’s vital diplomatic mission during the Revolutionary War, when he set sail for France in the months following our Declaration of Independence two hundred and fifty years ago.
In the Court of Versailles, Franklin presented an image of America that was cultured, literate, witty, and at the forefront of scientific research in its leisurely mid-eighteenth-century mode. At the same time, by intentionally setting aside the fashionable clothes he had worn in his earlier 1767 visit in favor of a more frontier-like demeanor, with a homely brown suit, spectacles and (famously) a large fur hat, he symbolized a new democratic polity. Franklin intrigued his audience in the court of Louis XVI through this synthesis of Old World charm with the virtues of the New World to create an American original.
Perhaps, Franklin was making the most of things in his own canny way. One suspects that he did not usually wear the rustic fur cap with which he charmed the Parisian salons when he was out and about on the streets of Philadelphia. But the contrast of these two missions to France, the rejection of a mere imitation and an embrace of the power of an authentic American perspective, reflects a deeper truth about the wellsprings of American diplomacy.
In the courts of the European powers, American diplomats faced key disadvantages. In the social milieu of diplomacy, rank, seniority, and access depended in part upon the personal rank of diplomats within the aristocratic hierarchies of Europe. Emissaries representing monarchs attained diplomatic privileges that those representing republics did not. The United States, a republic headed by a lowly citizen, ranked lower in diplomatic etiquette than the smallest European monarchy until well into the 19th century.
Many of the objects in the Diplomatic Reception Rooms were created, owned, and used by revolutionary Americans.
The United States did not have many diplomats from families found in the Almanach de Gotha or Debrett’s Peerage. So, what could this young country hang its diplomacy on? The answer that began to emerge, even in the waning days of colonial rule, was an emphasis on classical inheritance and excellence in all that we did.
The Founding Fathers and their generation did not believe themselves to be colonial subjects of one far-flung outpost of the British Empire. Rather, they understood themselves to be inheritors of a great tradition, the descendants (through a British common law branch) of Christian Europe and of classical Greco-Roman civilization. The foundations of statesmanship they learned in Plutarch, Cicero, and Aristotle were more ancient and prestigious than any European noble house, and they taught the virtue and dignity of republican government for the common good of a free citizenry. This classical tradition (as renewed and reclaimed in the work of Montesquieu, Locke, and others) gave the early leaders of our country confidence and pride in the American experiment in self-government, one that sustained them in the face of European condescension and disregard.
And one lesson, clearly conveyed in the Roman histories which our Founders knew intimately from their schoolboy days, was the central importance of virtue and merit to the long-term success of a republic. As Thomas Jefferson and John Adams agreed in their post-presidential correspondence, the United States needed to be led by a “natural aristocracy” consisting not of inherited wealth or privileged birth but of those who had been endowed by their Creator with the “virtue and talents” necessary for good government and successful enterprise. Meritocracy was, for our Founders, a vital ingredient in the “long and perilous contest for our liberty and independence,” an advantage against European states still hidebound by hereditary class and monarchical privilege.
This commitment to excellence without ostentation, rooted in our classical Western inheritance, defined American diplomacy, extending to the architecture and decorative arts of the places in which it was practiced. In this respect, the Diplomatic Reception Rooms are an outstanding symbol of the heart of a uniquely American diplomacy. In interiors crafted by classical architects inspired by the 1960s Americana revival, these 42 rooms pull together a unique collection of furniture, art, and artifacts generously provided by the American people through private donations to reflect the best of our traditions of craft and art.
This desk and bookcase was made by Benjamin Frothingham in 1753 when he was 20 years old. It is the first documented piece of bombé-shaped furniture made in America.
The excellence and craft that suffuses these rooms speaks to the dignity and worth of the American worker, and the ability of the United States to cultivate the best talent in the world. On July 4th, 1821, our 8th Secretary of State (and later president) John Quincy Adams gave a speech reflecting on what the young country had already contributed to the world in not yet half a century. While focusing on the glories of American liberty, Adams also extolled the industry, invention, and skill of America’s great craftsmen, artists, and entrepreneurs.
In a humbling way, the beauty of these objects contains a bitter lesson about the Americans we at the State Department are privileged to represent. At some point between the early years of the Republic (represented artistically and architecturally in the Diplomatic Reception Rooms) and the present, America’s foreign policy leaders lost sight of the everyday Americans they were called to represent. As we see throughout the Secretary of State’s office suite and the Diplomatic Reception Rooms, the Western tradition and a commitment to excellence are married in the very objects of our diplomatic practices. But the important industries that sustain that harmony have been destroyed by reckless policies. In the ten years after the U.S. lowered tariff barriers and agreed to let China join the WTO in 1999, more than half of the furniture makers in North Carolina lost their jobs. The halls of the State Department are still filled with furniture made in America, but today too few homes in this country or around the world can say the same.
As we celebrate the two hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the Declaration of Independence and the birth of our nation, let us rededicate ourselves to a foreign policy for the common good of the American people. Inspired by the art and architecture of the Diplomatic Reception Rooms, let us restore a diplomacy rooted in the Western inheritance and the cultivation of virtue. The essays and artwork of this volume are a noble tribute to our fine tradition of uniquely American diplomacy, and a fitting inspiration for the work remaining to us, to ensure a bright future for the next two hundred and fifty years of this great nation.
For the Silo, Jarrod Barker.
Marco Rubio was sworn in as the 72nd Secretary of State on January 21, 2025. The Secretary is creating a Department of State that puts America First.
The thing I am so happy about too, my family and friends have told me that my mood is so much better and I’m not suffering from these severe mood swings or, really depression from having to deal with all these horrible symptoms that go on. I can actually have a somewhat normal life.
Masako Miki, Blissful One-Eyed Spirit, Courtesy of the artist and Jessica Silverman. Photo: Steve Ferrara
Masako Miki, Waiting Cloud, 2025. Photo by Chris Gunder
Masako Miki, Rising Pink Prayer Beads, Courtesy of the artist and Jessica Silverman. Photo: Phillip Maisel About the Artist
Masako Miki. Courtesy of the artist and Jessica Silverman. Photo: Francis Baker. 
Masako Miki, Pine Tree from Ancient Time, Courtesy of the artist and Jessica Silverman. Photo: Steve Ferrara
Ben Miller/ Gary Snyder Fine ArtMiller will bring his artistic vision to life during the art fair. His team will travel to CRIT’s Ahakhav Tribal Preserve to photograph and video the portion of the river that runs through the Preserve. On March 19 as Scottsdale Art Week begins, Miller will be on site at Scottsdale Art Week to begin Fly Cast Painting on a six foot by eight foot by one inch block of plexiglass weighing 300 pounds that will be on a special easel. Those attending will see Miller create the artwork as the painting emerges on the other side of the plexiglass. On Friday March 20th the finished work will be on display. A portion of sales will go to CRIT. Recently, CRIT has taken the bold step to acknowledge personhood status for the Colorado River which protects it under Tribal Law.
