In the end, it may turn out that the most "progressive" thing about President Barack Obama is his taste in art.

Earlier this week, the White House released a list of 45 works of art the Obamas borrowed from various museums in Washington to display at their private residence. The East and West Wings of the White House will have a "modernist" makeover that acknowledges the complicated roots of our American journey. That's appropriate for a White House steeped in multiculturalism.

Along with a series of geometric abstractions by Josef Albers and African-American modernist Alma Thomas, paintings by George Catlin, an artist who documented Native American life just as it was ending, and the familiar Winslow Homer will be on display in those corridors for the first time. The French will be pleased that two works by Edgar Degas are represented. The original 1849 telegraph machine that Samuel Morse patented will be on display in the Oval Office, displacing Saddam Hussein's sidearm, which the previous occupant enshrined under glass.

Like many, I'm disappointed that Mr. Obama isn't more aggressive about pursuing the agenda that got him elected, but I'm ecstatic that he and the first lady are confident enough in their own aesthetic tastes that they resisted the temptation to pick popular Americana like Norman Rockwell over meditative abstractions by Mark Rothko and Jasper Johns.

The Obamas have also moved the self-consciously naive art of William H. Johnson to center stage. His simple and accessible portrayal of African-American life in the early 20th century will shout "hallelujah" from the walls every time the Obamas take a walk through the West Wing. The recent news about Michelle Obama's slave roots makes the selection of Johnson's paintings all the more poignant.

True to form, conservative critics pounced on the Obamas' selection, zeroing in on a reddish word painting by California artist Ed Ruscha called "I Think I'll ..." as indicative of the president's fecklessness and Hamlet-like ineptitude. The painting features an internal monologue that goes: "Maybe ... Yes ... Wait a Minute ... On Second Thought, Maybe ... No... "

"If Barack Obama's lack of authority and certitude weren't costing so many lives, this would be comical," right-wing blogger Michelle Malkin wrote in an uncharacteristically terse post, proving she is more humorless than even her most literal-minded readers.

Perhaps the Obamas should consider sticking one of those velvet paintings of Elvis -- or the ever popular painting of the dogs playing cards -- in a utility closet off the West Wing to mollify their critics. That way they can truly boast that the White House is home to art that represents the full spectrum of American tastes.

I've been telling everyone who will listen that if they only read one book about Pittsburgh -- ever -- it would be a crime if it wasn't "The Paris of Appalachia: Pittsburgh in the Twenty-first Century" by my friend and colleague Brian O'Neill.

Everyone knows I've been jealous of Brian for years. His graceful, often bemused, but always compassionate prose makes his column essential reading three times a week. This is the guy all prospective columnists should study. Politicians from Grant Street to Harrisburg are justifiably terrified of his decency. They know they can't dismiss him as an ideologue or a Tony Norman-like bomb thrower when he lowers the boom on them. Even after he's exposed the folly of our preening political class, they all still want to go out and have a beer with him.

In "Paris of Appalachia," Brian sketches indelible portraits of Pittsburgh on a larger canvas. The best thing about it is that you get to see his descriptive chops close up. As usual, he writes like someone who has been privy to every secret ever whispered in this town for 100 years. If you succeed in convincing a buddy to move to Pittsburgh, your next act of civic-mindedness should be to give them a copy of this superbly crafted book. It reveals our city's complexity and strangeness with the deepest of affection. Pick up your copy at the PG store (post-gazette.com/pgstore) or from Brian's Web site, parisofappalachia.com.

Recently, a local activist forwarded a link to a video about the G-20 by Jasiri X and Paradise the Arkitech that should be required viewing for those convinced that hip-hop is no longer politically or artistically relevant. In "The Only Color that Matters is Green," local rapper Jasiri X takes the rage and alienation many people felt during the G-20 and makes a beat-happy political rap that skewers with the wit and precision of early Public Enemy.

The images of Pittsburgh during the G-20 summit are cleverly integrated into a hip-hop narrative that speaks far beyond the tear gas clouds in Oakland. Jasiri X is socially conscious without being corny. He has some of the best lyrics I've heard in years.

But don't take my word for it. Go to YouTube.com and search for "The Only Color that Matters is Green."

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