When Donald Trump finished his long State of the Union address earlier this year, a group of artists headed to a cul-de-sac off Echo Park Lake in Los Angeles and got to work. The three men in baggy work pants and hoods unloaded two laser projectors (one for backup), some lenses, a laptop and battery packs onto carts and moved them to the middle of a pedestrian bridge that crosses over the 101. In the shadow of anonymity in the dark, members of the guerrilla art collective VJayBombs set up their gear with the confidence of practice.
Within minutes, the projector was warming up and aligned with the 100-foot wall at the Downtown Los Angeles Medical Center. After that, a final review was made of the video to be shown.
“Did you put sweat on the Statue of Liberty?” asked Kat, one of the group’s founders. “This is sick.”
“It sounds good to me,” said Bev, another co-founder. Then he composed himself: “Go back to the word ‘immigrant’ for a moment. The word ‘immigrant’ was spelled correctly, wasn’t it?”
However, the laptop was connected to the projector, and the video was projected for the world (or at least drivers passing by on the highway below) to watch. The roughly 45-second animation — which was shown without authorization — ran for more than 30 minutes and mocked the State of the Union. The video showed Trump sitting on a podium holding the Statue of Liberty hostage, vomiting gold feces and wearing a medal around his neck while raising slogans such as “Bad Immigrant!” The words “Forget the files” flashed behind him.
Ken, the third co-founder, jumped a fence and walked to the edge of the same highway. He pulled out his phone as the cars moved less than 10 feet from his face and filmed the show. The video will soon be broadcast on Instagram and TikTok, but for now, Ken has been broadcasting live to the group’s nearly 300,000 followers via Instagram and TikTok.
VJayBombs formed in an apartment complex in Koreatown. Ken, Bev and Kat (all three pseudonyms) were neighbors in the complex and all worked as directors. Together they project visuals and other videos on the side of the building during house parties. But the idea quickly expanded. “The original concept wasn’t necessarily political, it was more like, ‘Let’s paint artistic pictures on buildings,’” Ken begins, citing New York subway graffiti and Banksy as inspiration.
“But let’s say something controversial,” Biff interjects. “If you’re going to say something, say something.”
In June 2024, after Joe Biden’s disastrous debate against Trump, the artists moved to a residential area of Koreatown to perform their first piece, urging him to step down. Less than a month later, they went viral with a display referencing “Hawk Tuah” and showing the GOP kneeling to Trump on the side of a multi-story office building in downtown Los Angeles overlooking the 110 Freeway. “That book got a lot of attention online,” Piff says. “It was the first viral.”
Outreach will continue to grow with each installation. In January, Don Lemon reposted an anti-ICE ad to millions of views, and even CNN called him out. The group’s most popular video came in February — a spoof of the Super Bowl called “The Redacted Bowl,” featuring Trump, Steve Bannon, Bill Gates and others as football players with their statistics as a number of references in Epstein’s files.
“There are two sides to VJayBombs: There’s the personal side, which I think is so cool when you see it in person because it’s like you’re seeing something you shouldn’t be seeing,” Ken explains.
“You feel lucky to be there,” Bev adds. “Like, I grabbed it, and it’s only available for an hour?”
“Then there’s the other side, which is online payment,” Ken continues. “A lot more people will watch it online than in person, no matter what.”
Back at the pedestrian bridge over the highway, a young woman appears on the edge of the bridge. The group stops in confusion as they approach. “It’s been my dream to find you guys,” she announces. Was this a joke? Was this organised? “I was walking by and saw you. I can’t believe it. I like you.” She takes a photo with her phone of the crew.
“If you wouldn’t mind not posting our faces,” Biff says.
I nodded. “You’re so wonderful,” she continues, her Russian accent becoming evident. “I like that you’re not afraid of anything. Because in my country, if you say something, you’ll be killed that day.”
After a few minutes of admiring the group and the video, the woman left.
“Well, that was interesting,” Kat says. “Was she coming home and seeing us? I don’t understand.”
“I don’t know,” says Biff. “Definitely the first.”
This story appeared in the June 3 issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. Click here to subscribe.
