When the Epstein Files Become a Work of Art
More than 3.5 million pages related to Jeffrey Epstein have been printed and bound into 3,437 volumes. Now a travelling reading room is taking them across the United States alongside paintings by artist and survivor Maria Farmer.
Three and a half million pages are difficult to imagine. Inside the Donald J. Trump and Jeffrey Epstein Memorial Reading Room, they occupy 3,437 volumes arranged on shelves around the space. Government files concerning Epstein have been printed and bound. Seen together, they resemble less an investigation than a wall of paper.
After presentations in New York and Washington, the project began its US tour in Dallas in September 2026, accompanied by a mobile library. Its organisers are calling for the full release of the records and further scrutiny of the people and institutions that allowed Epstein to operate for years.
The first impression is powerful. The shelves convey the size of the archive and the time it would take simply to turn its pages. Then a more practical question intrudes: how is anyone supposed to find something inside all those books?

An archive without a map
Investigative journalist Emma Best has criticised the decision to bind the documents. It makes names, dates and keywords harder to search and complicates any attempt to update the material. A database would be less spectacular, but far more useful to someone trying to reconstruct relationships and responsibilities.
The Guardian also reported that access to the volumes was restricted because some files contained information about survivors that had not been properly redacted. Anyone opening a book could encounter details that should never have been made public.
The installation therefore carries some of the disorder and failures of the original release into the gallery. Visitors can see the sheer scale of the Epstein case, but they are not given much help in navigating it.
That may be the most convincing part of the Reading Room. Years of announcements, partial releases, names circulating online and promises of decisive revelations have produced more material than most people could ever examine. The volumes make that confusion visible. As a research tool, they remain difficult to defend.

Maria Farmer and the tarot deck
Maria Farmer’s paintings hang among the documents, shifting attention from the archive to one of the people who helped bring the case to light.
Farmer is a figurative artist and was among the first women to report Epstein to federal authorities. She met him while studying at the New York Academy of Art and later worked for him as an art adviser. According to her account, she reported Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell to the police and the FBI in 1996 after they sexually assaulted her. She also warned investigators about a wider system involving underage girls.
For the Reading Room, Farmer created EPSTEIN’S DECK, a series of large paintings made to resemble tarot cards. The figures belong to Epstein’s social environment and appear through caricature, distortion and black humour. Farmer knew that world from the inside. Her anger is less restrained than anything contained in the official documents.
The tarot format also captures the way the case is now consumed online. Each name becomes a sign. Every redaction promises another secret. Each release is expected to explain everything, until the next set of files arrives.
Farmer has said that she never witnessed Donald Trump or Bill Clinton engage in unlawful conduct. Their names in the records do not, by themselves, establish criminal responsibility. The files bring together addresses, meetings, testimony, allegations and evidence with very different meanings. Reading them as a ready-made list of guilty people is another way of misusing the archive.
Farmer’s paintings do not decide who is guilty. They give her a visual language with which to address a world that was long described by the men who moved through it and by the institutions that failed to stop it.

When transparency exposes survivors
A Reuters investigation published in June 2026 identified at least 23 Epstein accusers who had faced threats, harassment or intimidation. Some Justice Department files included names, addresses, telephone numbers, dates of birth and photographs that had not been properly redacted.
These failures have consequences beyond the archive. An address can be copied before a document is removed. A photograph can continue circulating long after the original page has been corrected. Releasing the records remains a legitimate public demand, but careless publication can expose the same people those records are supposed to serve.
The title of the Reading Room has also attracted criticism. Trump associated with Epstein and has denied knowing about his crimes. The Guardian argued that the project’s emphasis on the president risks narrowing a much larger network of political, financial, academic and cultural relationships into a partisan attack.
Trump’s name guarantees attention. That is presumably part of the reason it is there. Epstein’s protection, however, cannot be explained through one relationship. The mechanisms that gave him access and respectability preceded Trump’s presidency and extended far beyond a single political figure.
This tension matters because political art is often judged by the visibility it achieves. Yet contemporary culture no longer suffers from a simple shortage of images or information. As other forms of political and archival art in the 2020s have shown, exposure can coexist with confusion, exhaustion and institutional inaction.
Visitors to the Reading Room may leave comments, drawings and testimonies that will later be preserved and digitised. It is still too early to know whether the tour will generate new information, political pressure or mainly images that travel well through the media.
Farmer has said that Epstein consumed 30 years of her life and artistic career. After EPSTEIN’S DECK, she wants to return to painting nature in a new series titled UNSEEN. She has not presented it as an answer to the case or as a story of recovery. She has simply said that she wants to paint something else.

