When I speak with my mother about Bitcoin I can physically see her brain switch off. Her eyes glaze over with a 1,000-yard stare as soon as I start chatting away about the wonders of a hard-capped supply of digital assets governed by no central authority. And yes, maybe it’s because I’m terrible at presenting these ideas to her in a compelling manner, but I think it’s likely because I am speaking to her about
Great job, Andrew. Relating crypto to in-game money is very effective. The huge amount of friction in the onboarding process is a killer. I managed to get through it, somehow, but if I had had to jump through even one more hoop, I'd have given up. And I'm a pretty persistent guy. 99% of the people who collect my physical paintings--some of whom might well love to collect my #cryptoart too--will never survive the current onboarding process. This is not good for me, or for them, or for the world of NFTs and #cryptoart.
Since about 2000, brick-and-mortar galleries have been closing right and left. And those that survived are now closed until further notice because of the pandemic. Many of them will never recover, and we'll likely see the original art market taken over by the equivalent of big box stores. The #cryptoart world is largely immune from the pressures that have closed so many galleries, and I'd be devoting all my creative time and energy there if it didn't mean having to abandon the thousands of my collectors I have cultivated over a many decades-long career. Many of these collectors still want my paintings but are reluctant to buy online: they want to experience the reality and physical impact of the original work. I think it is increasingly obvious that attempts to market physical artwork by providing "See how it might look in your own home" gimmicks and in "virtual galleries" will fail until the bulk of buyers they see have grown up with VR in their blood. But I'll be dead by then, so it is of little consequence to me.