Past
tense: hung and hanged
Hang
has two forms for past tense and past participle, “hanged” and “hung”. The older form hanged is now used exclusively
in the sense of putting to death on the gallows by means of a lawful execution,
sanctioned by the state. Even in places
where capital punishment is no longer used, it remains the correct word to use
in its historical context. There
are two forms because the word “hang” came from two different verbs in Old
English (with a relationship to one from Old Norse). One of these Old English verbs was considered
a regular verb and this gave rise to “hanged”; the other was irregular, and
ended up as “hung”. Hanged and hung were
used interchangeably for hundreds of years but over time, hung became the more
common. Hanged retained its position
when used to refer to death by hanging because it became fossilized in both
statute and common law; it thus escaped the development of Modern English which
tended increasingly to simplified forms.
Even the familiar phrase hung,
drawn and quartered originally used “hanged”, a change reflecting popular
use. The only novel variation to emerge
in recent years has been to use hanged to describe executions ordered by a
state and hung when referring to suicides by hanging although this remains still
a trend rather than an accepted convention of use. Henry Fowler (1858–1933) in his A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926) held it wasn't necessarily erroneous to use "hung" in the case of executions but in standard English it was certainly less
customary although most style guides acknowledge the
distinction still exists while noting the use of hung is both widespread and
tolerated. The consensus seems to be it’s
best to follow the old practice but not get too hung up about it.
Portraits: hung and not hung

A tourist
admiring a piece of (very) modern art, hung in the Louvre, Paris, 22 February, 2026.
Works of
art being stolen from art galleries is a not uncommon crime and such acts tend now to receive wide coverage only if what was taken was worth millions, in some way interesting or the
execution of the heist was especially audacious, as recently was the case in a
well-planned operation at the Louvre.
However, smuggling something into a gallery to be hung is
unusual and on 22 February, 2026, briefly, the Louvre gained an exhibit, a framed
copy of the now famous image of a seemingly stunned Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor (b
1960, formerly Prince Andrew, Duke of York, Admiral etc) slumped in the back seat of a
police car after his arrest in connection with matters relating to his relationship with Jeffrey Epstein (1953–2019). The cunning
stunt was organized by the “anti-billionaire” activist group “Everyone Hates
Elon” which, emulating the gallery’s protocols, placed a label beneath the hung
image reading, “He’s Sweating Now — 2026” and the group later posted on-line
that the display was intended as “a call for accountability”. According to press reports, photograph and
caption remained hung “for about 15 minutes”
before being removed by museum staff. Everyone
Hates Elon is a UK-based collective devoted to political campaigns using the
modern techniques of the social media age.
It was formed in 2025 explicitly to oppose businessman Elon Musk (b
1971), prompted by his (possibly ill-conceived) involvement in politics as an
advisor to Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025)
although its remit quickly extend to other billionaires and such. In any other context, Mr Mountbatten Windsor
might have seen the humor in what students of Andy Warhol (1928–1987) would
have labelled “15 minutes of fame from
being 15 minutes in a frame” but it’s doubtful he laughed. The “He’s Sweating Now” text was a reference to the
“train-wreck” of an interview the then prince/duke/admiral etc in 2019 agreed (against
professional advice) to undertake for the BBC’s Newsnight programme, one memorable assertion being his claim that for some physiological reason he was at the time “couldn’t
sweat” and thus his accuser (Virginia Giuffre (1983-2025)) was lying when she said she'd seen him perspire while both were in nightclub. More men have talked themselves into difficulties than have ever talked their way out of them.

The
photograph of Mr Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor, while under arrest. Analysts of such things suggest that, aware of the photographers, he was attempting to "make himself invisible to their lens".
The instantly famous image of a seemingly stunned
former prince slumped in the back seat of a police car after his arrest was
snapped by Reuters staff photographer Phil Noble who gleefully admitted capturing
the moment was “more
luck than judgement” and a case of being “in the right place, at the right time”. Like the “blood shot” & “bullet shot” taken
by Doug Mills in Butler, Pennsylvania on 13 July 2024 when an assassin’s bullet
grazed right ear of Donald Trump, had either photographer been standing even a
few inches to the left or right or had pressed the button a second earlier or
later, the moment would have been missed.
As Mr Noble put it: “The photo gods were on my side. Is it the best photo I've ever taken? No. Is
it up there with most important? 100%.” Digital technology also did its bit, six
images shot in rapid succession, two of which showed only police officers, two
proved blank and one was out of focus, none of which mattered
because the one that went around the work was about as perfect as a news-photo
can be. Although publications routinely
use software to “edit out” the “red eye effect” (caused by a reflection from
the camera’s flash), on this occasion it was left untouched, better to capture
the immediacy of the moment when the former prince's thoughts may have been focused on the fate of Charles I (1600–1649; King of England, Scotland & Ireland 1625-1649).

Hangman the
game.
Both played for fun and used as an educational tool for children, Hangman
is a guessing game in which letters or numbers are chosen to enable a word,
name or phrase to be completed.
Originally for two or more players, one charm of the game is it demands
nothing more than pencil & paper although there are now electronic versions
suitable for single-user play. In
Hangman, one player draws on the paper dashes (and, if need be, spaces) which
correspond with the word or phrase and the other(s) tries to guess it by
suggesting letters or numbers within a certain number of guesses. In its simplest form, six guesses are allowed,
corresponding to the six body parts of the stick figure to be hanged (1 x head,
1 x torso, 2 x arms & 2 x legs) with those parts drawn on the gallows with
each wrong guess. To make it easier to
solve or when long, obscure or complex text is used, other body parts (feet,
hands, ears etc) and even the elements of the gallows can be added. Perhaps surprisingly in these more sensitive times, Hangman hasn’t be cancelled and is
still widely played although it's recommended by some that if used with young children, the alternative
version “Snowman” might be a better choice, the rules exactly the same.

Mandy in underpants (presumably his but who knows?). There is no suggestion Mandy engaged in inappropriate or improper conduct with this unidentified young lady.
When, particularly with younger children, Hangman is used as an educational tool, it can be helpful
at certain points in the game to provide a clue and for the example above one
might furnish the photograph from the Epstein files of Lord Peter “Mandy”
Mandelson (b 1953) in his underpants, speaking with an unidentified woman. The photograph was taken in the New York apartment
of convicted paedophile sex trafficker Jeffrey Epstein and when
asked about the image, his lordship responded by saying he “did not recall” the circumstances.
Some were uncharitably cynical about that (lack of) recollection but it
does seem plausible given (1) Mandy doubtless spent much time wandering Epstein’s
apartment while in his underpants and (2) because Epstein had so many “acquaintances”,
Mandy could hardly be expected to remember them all.
Most
politicians, usually by virtue of uninterest, leave the arts to others but there
are exceptions and while Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German
head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) wasn't unique among
politicians in regarding himself as “an artist” he was untypical and his credentials
were reasonable because in pre-World War I (1914-1918) Vienna he’d earned a
modest living as a painter of the streetscapes in which there’s now a somewhat controversial
trade. Critics seem prepared to concede
Hitler was a competent artist when depicting buildings and even the natural
environment but all concurred with the examiners who denied him entry to art
school on the basis he had not enough talent to handle the human form, a
judgment some historians, political scientists and amateur psychoanalysts have
over the years mapped onto his political career. With that, even he may have agreed because the
people in his paintings are almost always small, un-detailed blotches, there
merely to lend scale to the buildings which were his real love but, after
taking power in 1933, he didn’t let that stop him establishing himself as the Reich’s
chief art critic and he’d judge portraiture as harshly as any landscape. He certainly thought an “artistic temperament” was vital
for a politician to achieve greatness, rejecting the idea of Heinrich Himmler
(1900–1945; Reichsführer SS 1929-1945) succeeding him as Führer because the
head of the SS was “totally unartistic” and it was Hitler’s
self-identification as “an artist”
which in the first decade of his rule protected many painters, sculptors and
others from persecution. In his clandestine
prison diary (Spandauer Tagebücher
(Spandau: The Secret Diaries) (1975)) Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court
architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945) noted
that for Hitler their political views were “…a matter of supreme indifference…” because “…he regarded them
one and all as politically feeble-minded.”
Speer recalled a lunch in 1938 at Munich’s Osteria Bavaria (Hitler’s
favorite Italian restaurant) during which a senior Nazi functionary
brought to the Führer’s attention a Communist Party proclamation (pre-dating
the Nazi regime) which had been signed by a large number of artists; the apparatchik
wanted all these artists banned from any government work but Speer recoded how “Hitler replied
disdainfully, ‘Oh, you know I don’t take any of that seriously. We should never
judge artists by their political views. The imagination they need for their work deprives them of the
ability to think in realistic terms. Artists are simple-hearted souls. Today
they sign this, tomorrow that; they don’t even look to see
what it is, so long as it seems to them well-meaning.’” It was an indulgence to freedom of expression
Hitler granted few others and a contrast also with what would have been the
likely reaction of comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) to
revelations of dissent. Comrade Stalin’s
three preferred ways of dealing with such problems were: (1) have them taken outside, put up against a wall and shot,
(2) have them sent to the Lubyanka (KGB headquarters on Moscow's Lubyanka
Square) to be tortured to death or (3) have them sent to the Gulag to be worked
to death.

Portrait
of Oliver Cromwell (1650), oil on canvas by Samuel
Cooper.
Even if it’s something ephemeral, politicians are often sensitive
about representations of their image but concerns are heightened when it’s a portrait which, often somewhere hung on public view, will long outlive them. Although in the modern age the proliferation and
accessibility of the of the photographic record has meant portraits no longer
enjoy an exclusivity in the depiction of history, there’s still something about a portrait which
conveys, however misleadingly, a certain authority. That’s not to suggest the classic
representational portraits have always been wholly authentic, a good many of
those of the good and great acknowledged to have been painted by “sympathetic”
artists known for their subtleties in rendering their subjects variously more
slender, youthful or hirsute as the raw material required. Probably few were like Oliver Cromwell (1599–1658;
Lord Protector of the Commonwealth 1653-1658) who told Samuel Cooper (1609-1672) to paint him “warts and all”. The artist
obliged.
Although certain about the afterlife, Cromwell
was a practical politician with few illusions about life on earth. Once, when being driven in a coach through
cheering crowds, his companion remarked that his popularity with the people
must be pleasing. The lord protector
replied he had no doubt they’d be cheering just as loud were he being taken to the
gallows to be hanged. Of course,
to someone dead, in a practical sense it ceases much to matter whether they’d
been hanged, struck by a meteorite or murdered by the Freemasons; dead is
dead. However, the method of dispatch
does carry connotations and a hanging has always been thought to be the marker
of punishment for some dishonourable crime whereas as to die before a firing
squad, on the executioner’s block or under the blade of the guillotine can have
a whiff of respectability.

Soviet cartoon: Caricature
of the defendants and the anticipated Nuremberg judgment (1946) by the Soviet
artists known as the Kukryniksy: Porfiry Krylov (1902-1990), Mikhail Kupriyanov
(1903-1991) & Nikolai Sokolov (1903-2000).
As the trial wore on, at least two of the defendants were recorded as
requesting shirts with “larger collars” and on one occasion one removed
his tie, explaining it was “suddenly feeling tight”. The
famous quote “Depend
upon it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it
concentrates his mind wonderfully” appears in volume 3 of The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D. (1791)
by James Boswell (1740-1795) (a biography of the English writer and literary
critic Samuel Johnson (1709-1784)). The defendants before the
IMT (International Military Tribunal) trying the major Nazi war criminals at
Nuremberg (1945-1945) certainly felt that, both the military men (Field Marshal
Wilhelm Keitel (1882–1946; head of OKW (Oberkommando der Wehrmacht, the armed
forces high command)) and Colonel-General Alfred Jodl (1890–1946, chief of the
OKW operations staff 1939-1945) sentenced to death petitioning the judges
requesting they be shot rather than hanged; the request was denied. Hermann Göring (1893–1946; leading Nazi 1922-1945,
Hitler's designated successor & Reichsmarschall 1940-1945) cheated the
hangman by committing suicide shortly before he’s been due to be led to the
gallows but previously had indicated he’d have accepted execution had it been
by a firing squad on the basis that was “an honorable death for a soldier”; whether or
not he’d any way have killed himself will never be known but his view was
indicative of the way hangings are thought something for “common criminals”. Some were more sanguine about their lives
ending dangling from the hangman's, Hans Frank (1900–1946; Nazi lawyer and governor of
the General Government (1939-1945) in German-occupied Poland) observing: “I expected it, I
deserved it” but the most bizarre reaction to the dozen death
sentences handed down came from a man who didn’t receive one. Grand Admiral Erich Raeder (1876–1960; head
of the German Navy 1928-1943) was given a life sentence and, his rationale
being “better
a quick death than a slow one”, requested he be shot. On technical grounds (related to its authority
to increase sentences) the IMT declined the offer and although it seems nowhere
discussed, it’s assumed Raeder would have preferred to die in prison rather
than undergo the indignity of being hanged.
As it was, in declining health, in 1955 he was released.

Three of the galleries at the Lindsay Lohan Retrospective by Richard Phillips (b 1962), Gagosian Gallery, 555 West 24th Street, New York, 11 September-20 October 2012.
Described by the artist as an installation, the exhibition was said to be "an example of the way Phillips uses collaborative forms of image production to reorder the relationship of Pop Art to its subjects, the staging and format of these lush, large-scale works said to render them realist portraits of the place-holders of their own mediated existence." The curator explained the retrospective was conducted as an example of the way collaborative forms of image production can reorder the relationship of Pop Art to its subjects, the staging and format used to render them realist portraits of "...the place-holders of their own mediated existence." That seemed to explain things. Some of the images hung in the gallery come from Richard Phillips' short film Lindsay Lohan, hosted (courtesy of Richard Phillips and Gagosian Gallery) on Vimeo.

Bad Teddy and Good Theodore: Portrait
of Theodore Roosevelt (1903), oil on canvas by Théobald
Chartran (left) and Portrait of Theodore Roosevelt (1903) oil on canvas by John Singer Sargent.
Nobel Peace Prize laureate Theodore Roosevelt (1858–1919; US President
1901-1909), famous also for waging small wars and shooting big game, after being
impressed by Théobald Chartran’s (1849–1907) portrait of his wife (Edith, 1861-1948), invited the
French artist to paint him too. So displeased was he with the result (which he thought made him look effete), he
refused to hang the work. Later, he would have it destroyed, turning turned instead to
expatriate American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925). The relationship didn’t start well as the two
couldn’t agree on a setting and during one heated argument, the president
suddenly, hand on hip, took on a defiant air while making a point and Sargent had his
pose, imploring his subject not to move. This one delighted Roosevelt and prominently it was hung in the White House.

Side by side: Portraits of Barak Obama (2011) and Donald
Trump (2018), both oil on canvas by Sarah A Boardman, on permanent display, Gallery of
Presidents, Third Floor, Rotunda, State Capitol Building, Denver, Colorado.
In
March 2025 it was reported Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and
since 2025) was not best pleased with a portrait of him hanging in Colorado’s
State Capitol; he damned the work as “purposefully distorted” and demanded Governor
Jared Polis (b 1975; governor (Democratic) of Colorado since 2019) immediately
take it down. In a post on his Truth
Social platform, Mr Trump said: “Nobody likes a bad picture or painting of themselves, but
the one in Colorado, in the State Capitol, put up by the Governor, along with
all the other Presidents, was purposefully distorted to a level that even I,
perhaps, have never seen before. The
artist also did President Obama and he looks wonderful, but the one on me is
truly the worst. She must have lost her talent as she got older. In any event, I would much prefer not having
a picture than having this one, but many people from Colorado have called and
written to complain. In fact, they are actually angry about it! I am speaking on their behalf to the radical left
Governor, Jared Polis, who is extremely weak on crime, in particular with respect
to Tren de Aragua, which practically took over Aurora (Don’t worry, we saved
it!), to take it down. Jared should be ashamed of himself!”
At the unveiling in 2019 it was well-received by the Republicans assembled. If FoxNews had on staff an art critic (the Lord forbid), she would have approved but presumably that would now be withdrawn and denials issued it was ever conferred.
Intriguingly, it was one of
Mr Trump’s political fellow-travellers (Kevin Grantham (b 1970; state senator
(Republican, Colorado) 2011-2019) who had in 2018 stated a GoFundMe page to
raise the funds needed to commission the work, the US$10,000 pledged, it is claimed,
within “a few
hours”. Ms Boardman’s
painting must have received the approval of the Colorado Senate Republicans
because it was them who in 2019 hosted what was described as the “non-partisan unveiling
event” when first the work was displayed hanging next to one of Mr
Trump’s first presidential predecessor (Barack Obama (b 1961; US president
2009-2017), another of Ms Boardman’s commissions. Whether or not it’s of relevance in the
matter of now controversial portrait may be a matter for professional critics
to ponder but on her website the artist notes she has “…always been passionate about painting
portraits, being particularly intrigued by the depth and character found deeper
in her subjects… believing the ultimate challenge is to capture the personality,
character and soul of an individual in a two-dimensional format...” Her preferred models “…are carefully chosen for their enigmatic
personality and uniqueness...” and she admits some of her favorite
subjects those “whose
faces show the tracks of real life.”

Portrait
of Winston Churchill (1954), oil on canvas by Graham Sutherland. Never hung, the painting was later tossed onto a bonfire to be destroyed.
Another subject turned disappointed critic was Sir Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955). In 1954, a committee, funded by the donation of a 1000 guineas from members of both houses of
parliament, commissioned English artist Graham Sutherland (1903–1980) to paint
a portrait of the prime minister to mark his 80th birthday. The two apparently got on well during the sittings,
Churchill himself a prolific, if undistinguished, amateur painter and it’s clear he enjoyed their discussions. He was
unimpressed though with the result, telling Sutherland that while he acknowledged his technical
prowess, he found the work “not suitable”.
To his doctor he was less restrained, calling it "filthy" and
"malignant". Churchill was a realist about his abilities with the brush and when comparing his works with a few of painted by one of the detectives assigned to him, admitted the policeman's were "better than mine", sympathizing with the man that celebrity was valued more than skill. Churchill
in 1948 published the slim volume Painting
as a Pastime which had first appeared as a two-part essay in the December
1921 & January 1922 editions of Strand magazine respectively titled Hobbies and Painting as a Pastime (both reprinted in Pall Mall magazine in 1925). The pieces led something of an afterlife, excerpts over the next few years appearing
in several periodicals before both were included in the anthology The Hundred Best English Essays (1929). The author himself re-cycled the content
(again in the Strand’s two part format) in Thoughts
and Adventures (1932) and the single volume edition in 1948 appeared
apparently at the instigation of Churchill’s US publisher who had decided his
post-war notoriety was sufficient to stimulate interest in works then more than
a quarter-century old.

Portrait of Laurence Olivier in the role of Richard III (1955), oil on canvas by Salvador Dalí, Fundació Gala-Salvador Dalí (Gala-Salvador Dalí Foundation, Figueres, Spain).
It had
been intended the painting would be hung in the House of Commons but Churchill
had no intention of letting it be seen by anyone. An unveiling ceremony had been arranged and
Churchill demanded it not include the painting, relenting only when a compromise
was arranged whereby both subject and artwork would appear together but rather
than being hung in the Commons, it would instead be gifted to him to hang where
he pleased. Both sides appeased (if not pleased), the ceremony proceeded, Churchill making a brief speech of thanks during
which he described his gift as “…a remarkable example of modern art..”, praise
not even faint. It was never hung, consigned
unwrapped to the basement of the prime minister’s country house where it
remained for about a year until Lady Churchill (Clementine, 1885–1977)), sharing her husband’s view of
the thing, had a servant take it outside where it was tossed on a bonfire, an act of
practical criticism Sutherland condemned as “vandalism”. Not anxious to repeat the experience of his brush with modernism,
Churchill declined the offer of a sitting before the Spanish surrealist Salvador Dalí (1904–1989),
the result of which might have been interesting. It's not known if Churchill ever saw Dali's interpretation of Laurence Olivier (1907-1989).

Two photographs
of Winston Churchill (1941) by Yousuf Karsh.
Theodore Roosevelt’s pose is one favored by
politicians but the expression adopted matters too. The famous photograph taken in Ottawa in
December 1941 by Armenian-Canadian Yousuf Karsh (1908-2002) was actually one of
several but those where Churchill shows a more cheerful countenance are not remembered; they didn’t so well suit those troubled times. The scowl, although immediately regarded as emblematic
of British defiance of the Nazis, had a more prosaic origin, the photographer
recalling his subject had appeared benign until it was insisted the ever-present
Havana cigar be discarded lest it spoil the photograph. That changed the mood but, the moment
captured, he relented and permitted a couple more, including the now obscure
ones with a smile.