The Bitcoin tree is tall; it’s branches spread wide and it’s roots run deep.

All can explore it’s foliage and eat the fruit it bears. It knows nothing beyond production, season after season. Less and less as it matures, but each crop more satisfying than the last.

Some scoff and choose to stay among the leaves of older more established orchards. Their trees have always provided an unlimited supply of food, but it leaves them unsatisfied and wanting more. They would chop the trees down if not for their addictive diet.

A few have observed this new tree seemingly sprout overnight. It’s puzzling. They’ve tried to clone its branches but the saplings don’t take, and the flowers are grotesque mutations. The fruit spoils, and most prefer the original.

Enemies curse the tree. It blooms more beautifully than ever. They try to poison its roots. It digs deeper into the ground. Some even try to chop it down. But it’s grown hearty and thick, dulling the blade with every swing.

The longer this tree grows, the more permanent it becomes. Communities gather around it. They provide and care for it all, while picking its branches clean. The tree doesn’t mind; it has only one job to do. As long as it’s fruit doesn’t spoil, the tribe doesn’t either.

Seasons change and the tree always delivers. Those that taste the fruit of its labor are blessed with truth. They no longer fear winter or worry if spring will come. Every bud confirms what they know. The tree gives willingly; trusted or not.

The years bring new members to the tribe; some leave to chase an easier snack. Those that understand the nature of the tree, become caretakers. The tree grows. Branches sag and sway, taunting the brave to climb high and pluck from its bosom.

Those that have gorged on its fruit know it’s worth; the fruit cannot be obtained easily. As it grows, branches become difficult to reach. They will do what needs to be done to feed. The newcomers understand, but do not yet know. They will run the gauntlet soon enough.

An entire universe exists beyond its bark. Tough and twisted, it weaves upward. It’s roots ripple across the surface, bulging with purpose. It’s work must be done. It must survive. It’s fruit is picked, and it must produce more.

A new bud matures on a high branch. The community scrabbles to reach it. Some work together, splitting the fruit among themselves. Some veterans climb alone. The fruit can feed a village, but only one can pluck it from the tree. Only with work can the reward be claimed.

The tree has given; it’s reward split. Culture develops at its base as the newcomers observe. They want to taste the fruit, but cannot climb. Trade establishes, reflecting the work that must be done. As the tribe grows, so does competition. The tree doesn’t care, it grows taller.

- 0xtail

The story behind this piece of art

My original idea for this collage was a Bitcoin rabbit hole, but it turned into a tribute of stacking Sats. Stacking needs to be seen from the long time perspective, but the day will come when the stackers will receive the fruit. Those who hodl will be recognised as Adams and Eves, who got the knowledge in the early days…

It’s kind of alchemy, and then 3 days of screen printing itself. 40 copies. Each paper went through my hands eight times, each with maximum care and precision, but with analog hand made human errors which makes screen prints so beautiful and unique.

This is how I found this beautiful text about the Bitcoin tree, with all the meanings which I myself could never describe with words. I thought it fit my visual so perfect, that I asked Øxtail for a collaboration. And here we are, my visual finally finished, with a beautiful poetic text.

- Martin Fischer