CDB

PERSONA PART 2 - PROOF OF WORK Everything has to be fast these days. Short, digestible, optimized for engagement. The entire system is built to reward what is easy - what releases instant dopamine without asking for anything in return. The crypto space is that impulse taken to the extreme. It's not just about speed, it's about constant novelty, endless speculation, and the promise of something just around the corner. Persona doesn’t fit into that. This text probably doesn’t either. The work is not generative, not overly polished, not built around some promise of future utility. It exists for the same reason that all real art exists - because it had to be made. Because it reflects something essential, something that needs no justification beyond the work itself. I've always preferred to let my work speak for itself, but this time I wanted to provide some more context on the process, the decisions and the intentions. Expecting the work alone to communicate all of this would be naive. PROOF OF WORK Most things in this space are built to be forgotten—consumed, flipped, discarded for whatever comes next. I wanted to see if I could create something that could hold its ground against that cycle, not by rejecting the fast-paced nature of the space outright, but by demanding effort - both in its creation and in how it’s engaged with. From there, the first part of Persona came together instinctively, almost urgently, as if the faces were already waiting to be drawn. The 210 pieces were created in an almost mediumistic process - I didn't plan any of them, tried to shut off all conscious thought and just started drawing. But Part 2 is different. I adjusted my approach and became a lot more deliberate. Like mining Bitcoin, it was a process of extraction - of excavating meaning from raw materials, layers of history, culture and memory. The series is built on proof of work. Not just in a computational sense, but in the sense that effort also creates value. Each piece was created by hand, in a slow and deliberate process, using intentionally simple tools. ART FINDS A WAY This series wasn’t made in a studio. It came together on the road, drawn in a van, which I spent years converting and which has been my home for the past 2 years as I have been traveling through North, Central, and soon South America. There was no perfect setup, no controlled environment. The work adapted to that reality. It was made wherever I was: parked in dense cities or in remote areas. The tools were simple because they had to be - an iPad and a stylus. But limitations have a way of sharpening focus. The process became about working with what was there, adjusting to a new medium and making something real under any circumstances. There’s something valuable about working within constraints. I spent many years only drawing on paper with a fineliner pen - no erasing, no second chances. Keeping it simple forced me to push deeper into the medium, to find meaning in mistakes, to embrace what I couldn’t control. This series isn’t so different. I worked with a single type of digital brush, which is deliberately hard to control, messy and imperfect. The limitations aren’t an obstacle; they’re the point. They push the work into places it wouldn’t have gone otherwise, forcing decisions that feel more immediate, more alive. THE MEDIUM Constraints don’t just shape the work - they also shape the way others interact with it. That’s why Bitcoin is the ideal medium for digital art. Just like working with a single brush forced me to make deliberate choices, the limitations of Ordinals demand a different approach, both from artists and collectors. The slow, expensive nature of it is a feature, not a flaw. It demands intentionality, the same way that working with certain physical materials does. On most chains, digital art moves at the speed of speculation. Transactions are instant, almost free, and frictionless. That kind of environment encourages a certain behavior. Quick flipping, low conviction, and art being treated as just another shitcoin. Bitcoin resists that. It’s not so different from the way art has functioned in the physical world. In the traditional market, buying a piece isn’t effortless. There are shipping costs, fees and hurdles. Reselling it too quickly can damage your reputation. Finding a buyer takes time. All of these barriers create a system where conviction matters, where acquiring a work is a deliberate act, not just a quick trade. Ordinals introduce a similar dynamic to digital art. The effort required discourages short-term speculation and rewards those who engage with the work seriously. Even the file size restrictions, which some see as a limitation, are an opportunity. They demand that artists rethink their approach, experiment with new methods, and create something suited to the medium. The shift is no different than moving from charcoal to oil paint - each requires a different way of working, a different way of thinking. The best art isn’t about forcing a vision into a medium that doesn’t fit. It’s about understanding the medium, adapting to it, and letting it shape what’s possible. WHAT IT ALL MEANS It’s not my job to define what this series means. I don’t believe in dictating interpretations. Persona can be whatever someone wants it to be, whatever someone sees in it. The work exists on its own, independent of me. But I can share some of the ideas that went through my mind while creating it. At its core, Persona deals with identity - the masks we wear and the roles we step into. Some of that is natural, or even necessary. We shift between different versions of ourselves depending on the circumstances. But identity can also be performative, deceptive or even a tool for manipulation. Nowhere is that more obvious than in crypto, where entire personas are built on nothing, designed to extract as much as possible before disappearing. The digital world blurs the line between authenticity and fabrication. When creating the first part of Persona, I was mostly thinking about those external masks and about how identity fractures in today’s world, where we are overloaded with information, constant exposure and competing realities. The faces are distorted, reflecting the chaos of trying to navigate a world where it’s not always clear what’s real. As I worked on Part 2, the focus expanded. It wasn’t just about observing these ideas in others, it also became about digging into my own influences and history. The process of choosing references to include or discard became its own kind of self-construction. It became as much about what has shaped me, what has brought me to this point and what fragments make up my own Persona, even though I didn’t set out with that intention. This is just one way of reading it. Persona doesn’t have to be about any of this. Maybe it’s something else entirely. The meaning isn’t fixed - it depends on who is looking and what they need to find. The work is here. What it becomes is up to those who engage with it. ART FOR ART'S SAKE Persona isn’t trying to sell you on anything. There are none of the usual gimmicks, roadmaps or “utility”. It’s about the work, which is what “art for art’s sake” means to me. It exists for its own sake, not as a vehicle for chasing trends or looking for the next quick flip. It’s for collectors who understand that art doesn’t need an excuse to exist. Ordinals provide the perfect medium for that kind of work - permanent, deliberate, resistant to the cycles of hype. Persona is an attempt to show what’s possible within that framework. A collection built to stand the test of time, not chase a moment. A market in its current state makes decisions clearer. When everything is down, when mania has given way to fear, only real conviction remains. This is when meaningful collections take root, away from noise, built for those who see beyond the moment. Persona Part 2 will be released on March 18th via Magic Eden. Moves made in times like these are the ones that matter later 💥