For decades, the U.S. dollar has ruled the global economy, tightly intertwined with Middle Eastern oil.
But now, in late 2024, the winds of change are undeniable. Now that Bitcoin has reached a new all-time high and broken through the psychological holy grail of $100,000 it has transcended being merely a financial phenomenon to become a cultural force. Meanwhile, the dominance of the petro-dollar is being chipped away by major players like Saudi Arabia exploring new economic alliances, even trading oil in Chinese Yuan. This move reflects a broader trend of de-dollarisation, where nations seek alternatives to reduce dependency on the dollar and regain financial sovereignty.
One artist has captured this tectonic shift in a way that transcends economics and speaks directly to the human condition. In his debut digital collection, Inflation.art, inscribed on the Bitcoin blockchain, the anonymous artist declared: “Rather than use dollars to pay for my canvas, I chose to use those dollars as my canvas.”
The Nashville Scene
I came to Nashville expecting to report on Bitcoin’s growing presence in the mainstream, especially with figures like Donald Trump, Robert F Kennedy Jr and whistleblower Edward Snowden headlining the conference. But what I didn’t expect was for a Bitcoin art event to steal the show. The discussions centred on Bitcoin’s potential as an immutable publishing layer, a concept that if fully realised, could reshape how we document history. In a world where information is easily manipulated or erased, Bitcoin offers something radically new: a decentralised, unchangeable record.
This idea of Bitcoin as a protector of truth has always struck a chord with me, but it was this particular art collection itself, containing visceral imagery of burning dollar bills that would leave an indelible mark.
The Financial Rebel, Bitcoin, Goes Mainstream
Bitcoin’s ascent into mainstream finance has been marked by key moments, like US Exchange Traded Fund (ETF) applications led by financial giants such as BlackRock and Fidelity. These moves signalled Bitcoin’s entrance into the financial elite, suggesting it was no longer just a fringe technology but a serious player. Heading to the conference, I wondered: Could Bitcoin’s radical roots withstand this institutional embrace?
As I checked into my hotel, I began a conversation with Steven Miller, a well-connected curator in the Bitcoin art world. He invited me to Inscribing Nashville, an event focused on Bitcoin Ordinals, held at Vü Nashville. It was a striking venue dominated by a 123-foot-wide LED screen. The room buzzed with energy, filled with artists, collectors, and speculators, all drawn by this emerging intersection of art and Bitcoin.
The morning sessions centred on Bitcoin Ordinals, which allows art to be inscribed onto the Bitcoin blockchain. A lot of it reminded me of the Ethereum NFT boom of speculative frenzies and JPEG art, but when Erin Redwing, the event’s host, asked everyone to stay seated for a short video, everything changed.
Carl Sagan’s Warning and Project Spartacus
As the video began, a quote from Carl Sagan, the esteemed astrophysicist, appeared between the two ends of the burning $100 bill: “If we’ve been bamboozled long enough, we tend to reject any evidence of the bamboozle.” This quote lodged itself in my mind. This was about deception and the deep roots of denial that form when we become too invested in a particular narrative.
Miller must have sensed something similar because after the video, he introduced me to Troy, a well-known figure in the industry, known for his chaotic energy as well as for his supportive and sweet spirit. Troy, who is also an actor and podcaster, animatedly described Project Spartacus, a community initiative to inscribe Wikileaks cables onto the Bitcoin blockchain. “A group of artists inscribing uncontested truths onto an immutable publishing layer, that’s a fucking profound idea!” he explained. Coincidentally, I learnt this on the very day Julian Assange was released from prison.
Mesmerising The Audience
And then came the ‘Wow Moment’: Inflation.art.
The room darkened, and a searing musical score filled the space. Composed by the artist, the music had the haunting depth of a Trent Reznor or Hans Zimmer score. Emotional, intense, but never overpowering. On the massive screen, one hundred $100 bills, ten $10 bills, and one $1 bill began to burn, one by one. As the flames flickered, each note seemed to dance with the fire, slowly fading into nothingness.
This art piece was a warning about the fragility of the financial systems we rely on. The burning bills captured the essence of what Bitcoin represents: a rejection of decaying institutions and a move toward something new and more robust. The audience was mesmerised. This wasn’t just art—it was a manifesto, a searing critique of the institutions we rely on. Bitcoin’s rebellion against these systems felt not only financial but cultural, even spiritual.
After the event, my curiosity only grew. Miller shared the same intrigue, so we sought out Ordinally, one of the event’s organisers and a developer who had helped bring the Ordinals protocol to life with lead developer Casey Rodarmor. When I mentioned Inflation.art, Ordinally’s face lit up. He called it a “seminal piece of work,” explaining it had been anonymously inscribed onto the blockchain eight months earlier, on the 15th anniversary of the Bitcoin white paper.
When I asked if he knew the artist, Ordinally gave a knowing smile. “I don’t,” he said, pausing just long enough to build suspense, “but I can tell you who inscribed it on-chain.”
It was the kind of answer that left me wondering if I was uncovering something profound or just falling into a clever marketing trap. Either way, I was hooked.
The Art of Obscurity
Ordinally introduced me to Brian Laughlan, a co-founder of Ordinalsbot who helped inscribe Inflation.art onto the blockchain. A sharp and lively Scotsman with a quick wit, Laughlan made conversation effortless. When I pressed him about Inflation.art, he grinned. “It’s cool, right?” But when it came to the identity of the artist, he remained frustratingly evasive.
Miller, standing nearby, gave me a shrug that said, “ I’m just as bamboozled as you.” Then, 15 minutes later, Laughlan returned with a sharp-looking man named Luke. “Luke, please meet Tommy, he’s making inquiries about Inflation.art.” The air of mystery only deepened as Luke handed me a card with nothing more than his name and number, inviting me to send over 11 questions. “Why 11?” I asked. Luke smiled, “Make that one of your questions to the artist.”
On the ride back to the hotel, Miller, who struck me as somebody that wasn’t easily impressed, seemed genuinely taken by the experience. “It’s bold without screaming for your attention,” he mused, “but it’s powerful because it brings a lot of incredibly important questions into perspective.” At which point a brand-new thought seemed to strike Miller. “The intrigue factor is palpable. If I’m finding myself asking multiple ‘what if?’ questions, I have to imagine my colleagues will as well. What if this is Bitcoin’s Beeple Moment? What if this ends up being perceived as one of the most culturally significant performance artworks of the decade? These ‘what ifs’ are what could captivate the public’s attention as a validator of currency-centric artworks, but furthermore, as a validator of art on Bitcoin.” I nodded, but countered: “Doesn’t that depend on who the artist is?”
Miller paused before answering, “Usually…but in this case of a pseudonymous artist – which I assume is the case here – I think it will fall to the significance of who the collector is. A piece like this needs a guardian, custodian or steward. Someone who intrinsically understands that the integrity of the art is intertwined with the integrity of Bitcoin and that ultimately the blockchain can fill the role of the gallery which this art is stored in.”
It made me wonder whether the artist would entertain lower bids from more “suitable guardians” or if the artist was just all about the money.
Amplifying the Unheard: A conversation with M1ke Rafone
After some persistence, I connected with the artist via text. He introduced himself as M1ke Rafone, which he told me was a play on words, referencing a microphone’s role in amplifying voices. “As an artist,” he said, “I’m interested in amplifying the voices of those unheard.”
When I asked about his motivation for Inflation.art, Rafone didn’t hold back. “People don’t realise how fragile the system is. Zimbabwe was wrecked by inflation, and the U.S. isn’t immune. The dollar’s grip is slipping, and we’re all just sitting back, watching it burn in slow motion.”
I pressed him on inflation’s wider impact. “It’s like boiling frogs,” he said. “You’re in the water, and the heat’s being turned up slowly. You don’t even realise you’re being cooked alive until it’s too late. Grocery bills have doubled, energy costs have tripled, wages are stagnant, and people are drowning.”
Rafone continued: “For over half a century, many African nations have been tethered to the U.S. dollar for trade and this reliance has often yielded painful consequences. Countries would print more of their local currency to buy more dollars to increase their purchasing power, unfortunately devaluing their own currencies whilst doing so. Check out Zimbabwe’s catastrophic hyperinflation in the late 2000s. This was once a thriving nation and still with the same resource base, but somehow its currency spiralled into collapse, reaching an inflation rate of 89.7 sextillion percent. Imagine it. You can’t! It’s literally unimaginable. It was more cost effective to wipe your ass with a one trillion dollar note than it was to use toilet paper.”
Rafone’s cautionary tale from Zimbabwe served as the unlikely spark for Inflation.art. The artist was given a 100 trillion Zimbabwean dollar note by a friend in 2019, a moment that ignited the entire concept. In the conversation, it became clear that the artist viewed Zimbabwe’s collapse as a glimpse into the potential future of other fiat currencies, including the U.S. dollar. “Voltaire wasn’t wrong when he said all paper money will eventually return to its intrinsic value – zero”.
Rafone was blunt and passionate. To him, inflation is a root cause of the emotional and mental health crises gripping the globe. “It has crept into people’s lives, eroding their security which in turn has impacted their mental and emotional well-being. It’s not rocket science.”
Inflation.art and Beyond
I asked what was next. Rafone hinted at more to come but kept it vague. “There’s definitely more coming, but not where you’d expect,” he said. “I’m just finishing my album Breathe, it’s all connected. The art, the music, it’s telling a bigger story. You’ll get it when it drops.”
Music was central to Rafone’s vision. “The same frequencies, emotions, and messaging that defined Inflation.art will carry through into the music”, he promised. This was more than commentary. This was a multi-sensory experience meant to shake people out of their apathy.
I pushed further, asking about the significance of the parent inscription in his Bitcoin Ordinals collection, specifically the presence of Shiva. Rafone’s answer was cryptic but revealing.
“Shiva, in yogic culture, means ‘that which is not.’ It’s pure potential, the infinite possibility before anything exists. As an artist, I’m more interested in what hasn’t manifested yet than what’s already here. That’s where real hope lies.”
It was clear Rafone was more than an artist burning money. He was a provocateur, a thinker, and a storyteller, using every medium to challenge the status quo. With Inflation.art, he had woven together the unravelling global economy, the fragility of financial systems and the potential for something entirely new.
I asked about the symbolism of the art and he drew a comparison with the MENA region’s relationship with the US dollar: “While Bitcoin has often been seen as a hedge against inflation, Inflation.art takes on deeper significance when viewed in the context of the Middle East’s evolving relationship with the U.S. dollar and is a relationship that goes beyond oil,” he explained. “For decades, the dollar’s dominance was built not only on trade but reinforced by a geopolitical alliance. The U.S. provided military and security support to key Middle Eastern nations, particularly Saudi Arabia, in exchange for oil being priced in dollars. This ‘oil-for-security’ deal cemented the dollar’s place as the global reserve currency.
“In this context, Inflation.art is more than a critique of inflation. The burning dollar bills reflect a crumbling system, not just of financial fragility but of geopolitical power. The flames symbolise the cessation of a long-standing economic and political order, where the U.S. dollar is no longer the unquestioned cornerstone of global strength, particularly in the Middle East.”
His is a bold statement, reflecting not just the artist’s view on inflation but the broader global shift in power, a rejection of decaying financial systems and the search for something new.
And for my 11th and final question I was intrigued by the number 11 and why I was granted specifically 11 questions?
“It’s a clue, start digging. Dig deep enough and in the right area and you may discover something… something that could deeply affect the way you experience yourself,” he concluded.
As I left the conversation, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning and that Inflation.art is a mirror reflecting the cracks in our world that most of us are too distracted to see.
And maybe, just maybe, Rafone had lit a fuse that would burn far beyond the walls of that Nashville venue.
Tommy Siddhu is a writer covering Bitcoin, music, media and sub-culture across the globe.
