THE PRINT
30 x 20 inches, drawn at 18,000 pixels across, which is 600 pixels per inch at this size. The detail holds closer than your eye can resolve from across the room. This one has to be walked up to.
Limited edition of 10, signed and numbered, on Hahnemühle German Etching 310gsm.
It ships rolled around the outside of a rigid core, wrapped in Kraft paper and layers of bubble wrap, then boxed with foam protection. If you want a specific edition number, email me before you check out. First asked, first held.
Each includes a certificate of authenticity timestamped on the Bitcoin blockchain via Verisart.
Bitcoin Magazine interviewed me about this series in October 2026. Read about the interview.
Bitcoin accepted at checkout.
THE CONCEPT
Fiat is Latin for let it be done. A decree, issued once, with nobody asked. Fames is hunger, from an empty stomach all the way to a famine. Virgil hung it on gold in the Aeneid: auri sacra fames, the accursed hunger for gold.
Fiat Fames. Let there be hunger: a money that can be printed without limit decides who eats first. The people closest to the press sit down at the table, and everybody else lines up for what's left, at a higher price every time they reach the counter.
It's built on Bruegel's The Fight Between Carnival and Lent, painted in 1559, where the town's feast and fast meet as a joust in the square: a fat butcher on a beer barrel against a thin woman with two herrings on a bread paddle. Mine keeps the square, the inn, the church and the joust. In Bruegel's town the feast and the fast take turns. In mine the feast never ends for the people at the top, and the fast is for everyone else.
In the middle, Carnival is a $ skull in a pie hat lettered EASY MONEY, riding a barrel that reads PORK BARREL, with AURI SACRA FAMES around the rim. The one who takes him on is a wizard in a Satoshi mask, and the golden bolt from his open hand goes straight into Carnival's money bag. Of everything in that square, the coin on the wizard's staff is the one thing Carnival can't print more of.
The inn on the left is THE PUNCH BOWL. William McChesney Martin, who ran the Fed from 1951 to 1970, said the Fed's job was to take the punch bowl away just as the party warmed up. Nobody's taking this one away. Right under the party, the bank's gate reads BANK HOLIDAY, the way Roosevelt suspended every banking transaction in the country in March 1933. Three plain-faced depositors wait at the bars, wanting in. The crowd in Satoshi masks has turned its back on the shut bank, and it doesn't touch them. The only coins nobody can lock behind a gate are the ones you hold with your own keys.
Up the street, the ration office posts INFLATION 3%, NOT COUNTING FOOD OR FUEL, next to a calendar headed FOMC 2026 with a herring on September. Out front, plain-faced women line up at the counter with their papers, while hundreds of hooded Satoshi masks march the length of the street, and one crate in the march reads SEED, DO NOT EAT.
Under the square sits the fat kitchen. Two $ skulls feed scrap into a smelter lettered DEBASEMENT, and under it a fur-coated skull lies scooping the new coins off the pile at FIRST IN LINE. The big pot is lettered YOUR SAVINGS, and at the far end a butcher feeds a pink piggy bank into a meat grinder on a block that reads SAVINGS IN / SAUSAGE OUT and 2% / GROUND. At 2% a year, a dollar saved at 30 buys half as much at 65.
The other side of the cellar is the thin kitchen, and it's cold. A vault door lettered GRANARY has frost on its rivets and its gauge on FULL, with grain leaking out onto the floor. Tins of 401(K), SOCIAL SECURITY and PENSION stand against it, promises paid in dollars decades out, and a horned $ skull has a straw stuck in a tin marked MILKSHAKE. There's grain in this town. The hunger is in the money.
Up on the square, Lent stays with the cart, lettered PRICES SUBJECT TO PRINTING. The loaves on it are stamped 5.6¢ 1913, 50¢ 1980 and $1.83 2026, the Bureau of Labor Statistics price for a pound of white bread, so the same loaf costs more than 32 times what it did. Across the square a stall reads PAY IN SATS, and in sats the bread got cheaper.
Bruegel's church became a storehouse, with SERVATUM, kept, and NON FIAT, let it not be done, on either side of the door, and a table lettered SEED BANK out front. Here the fast is a choice. You spend less than you earn and keep the rest in a money capped at 21 million.
Some of it only shows up once you're close, like CUI BONO on a T-shirt in the inn's upstairs window, or NOW 12 OZ on a can in the cellar.
At the bottom right, a mother and her boy hold on to a broken chain, its snapped end on the floor by a few orange ₿ coins, and a can marked RATION sits on the floor behind them. A few steps away, a lion in a Satoshi mask keeps one paw on his COLD STORAGE can.
The mother and her boy were holding on to a false security, and it broke. The lion guards his own.
TEN DECREES
Ten of the most crowded and most furious paintings Bosch and Bruegel ever made, redrawn for the fiat age. One every two weeks, from August 29th to January 3rd, the Genesis Block anniversary. Nine of the titles are orders. The last one is ours. Better money, better world.
