Where the Banned Words Go: Inside the Shredded Trump Archive

In the years since Donald Trump’s inauguration, a new wave of protest art has resurfaced. Across the country, artists are reacting to the administration’s censorship, immigration policies, and assaults on public institutions. One of the most striking responses is in a dim, quasi-office space in Boulder where an artist has spent nearly four years slowly destroying her own work.

The piece is called Effigy 1462—a reference to the number of days in a presidential term. It began the moment the artist read reports that federal agencies were quietly flagging certain words and removing them from websites, grants, and contracts.

“I was shocked, like everyone else,” the artist, Yumi Roth, told Yellow Scene Magazine. “I got an overwhelming sense of disbelief followed by anger.”

She began collecting the banned terms, going as far as to download screenshots from federal employees and solicit lists from friends. The result became a tower of offset-printed pages made up of government-censored language. Every so often, she walks into the room, turns on the fluorescent lights, and feeds one page into an Amazon Basics shredder.

“It never really goes away,” she said. “Its form just gets transformed.”

The shredded pile shrinks and shifts in tune with her emotions. Early on, the process was furious, almost cathartic. Now, Roth says, it’s become something quieter.

“I was angrier in the beginning, but when you do a long process over a period of time, your experience with it changes. Now I am less fixated on the specifics of the words but rather the action of turning a hotel piece of paper into a shredded pile.”

Effigy 1462 is not displayed in the main East Window Gallery but is stored at an off-site location in a bare room with HVAC-covered windows and little else. Most days, the artist is alone. Visitors can see the piece only by emailing the gallery for the address and, if they choose, shredding a page themselves.

The unusual nature of the work has made some institutions hesitant to host it. According to the gallery director, several spaces declined, worrying that it was “too outward of a display of protest.”

The piece will continue evolving until the end of the presidential term. After that, the future is uncertain. The artist has considered everything, from incineration to a new form of transformation, but refuses to decide too early. “It will change with me over the next four years,” Roth explained. “And I will know what to do by then.”

For now, the pile continues to shrink, one sheet at a time.

Viewers interested in seeing the installation can contact East Window Gallery through its website.