The WPA's Federal Art Project put money in the pockets of the
unemployed, brought the avant-garde into small-town America, and
started an aesthetic revolution BY CAROL STRICKLAND (Reproduced
by permission from the April-May 1997 issue of Civilization
magazine) Robert Muchley, Philadelphia O IT WASN'T QUITE HOWARD
Carter's first glimpse of King Tut's tomb, but for scholars of
Depression-era art, the find ranks with some of the greatest
discoveries of all time. Thirty-one years ago, art historian
Francis V. O'Connor climbed a spiral staircase to a remote attic
above the rotunda of the Library of Congress. He unlocked a
heavy door to reveal a cobwebbed, circular room. This was
mission control, home of the hardware that sent electric
currents to the Jefferson Building's farthest stone ledges to
zap pigeons from their roosts. In the room was an even more
electrifying sight: a wooden crate holding nearly 1,000 posters
from the Federal Art Project. Sent to the Library for storage
during World War II, the posters rem