In the labyrinth of artistic creation, the path of grants is shadowed by bias. Those who dwell in the chambers of grant commissions, their preferences subtly shape the art they choose to nourish - be it by selecting artists, how the grant application is written, the theme,...
This isn't to cast a shadow over the luminaries of Hollywood, whose art, though different, thrives in the wilds of genuine demand. Their creations are not fed by the streams of state finance but bloom in the open market, where the art of marketing intertwines with storytelling.
It is commercial art, but one that is consumed willingly with demonstrated preferences.
In the realm of woke trauma art, its prevalence mirrors society's scars, a canvas for the expression of deep-seated traumas. Yet, one wonders if the hunger for such art truly emanates from the public or if it is artificially sustained by the lifeblood of state support. True inspiration, after all, springs from the desire to bring into being that which never was – art born not of pain, but of joy and the unbridled urge to create. Such art resonates differently, not just created, but truly alive, thriving in the hearts of those who encounter it.
In the intricate dance of existence, the parasite emerges as a master of survival, drawing sustenance from its host, yet ensuring the host's survival for continual energy supply. This dynamic, while seemingly symbiotic, remains fundamentally skewed.
This parasitic analogy extends to our relationship with the state. We, the hosts, are drained through various means: direct taxes on profits, consumption, and capital gains, and indirect taxes like inflation. Inflation subtly erodes the value of earnings, yet these devalued gains are still taxed. Even when we merely maintain our purchasing power, the state perceives and taxes it as profit.
But the tale deepens. Regulations layer additional costs across supply chains, inflating prices. Environmental mandates, labor laws, compliance requirements – they all carve out significant portions of created value, often with little visible benefit in return.
Let's crystallize this reality: a staggering 80%, perhaps even 95%, of product and service costs are consumed by these parasitic forces. The host – our economy and society – is left just viable enough to continue its function.
Yet, herein lies an opportunity for the dark forest. Freed from the burdens of these costs, even despite lack of sophisticated long supply chains, economies of scale and specialization down the line, products and services can be crafted more affordably and with superior quality within this second realm. The dark forest isn't just a sanctuary from mainstream constraints; it's a fertile ground for outcompeting the established order and nurturing its own intricate supply networks.
And what to do with the parasite? Let's put it in a museum.
3D printing
Need a new cup? A grinder? A new wheel for your kid's toy car? If you are living outside of dark forest, these items would start their journey in China, through shipping container boats, customs and retailers, handed over by a delivery company.
But in the dark forest, we can make use of a new superpower - home 3D printing. Inspired by replicator machines from various sci-fi stories, these devices allow us to make many things right on our desks, in a way that is similar to how 2D printers spill out documents and photos.
Home or local 3D printing might not be optimal. Per unit cost of thousands of widget coming from plastic factory is often lower than 3D printing. 3D printing is a bit more resilient to supply chain shocks. An instruction from printing is data (and thus censorship resistant).
3D printing is conversion of bits to atoms. Have at least one provider of 3D printing services in the dark forest near you.
Access to global talent
In the realm of entrepreneurship, the constraints extend beyond regulations, taxes, and fiat money. A crucial element is market access, specifically the ability to tap into a global talent pool. Picture dwelling in a nation of ten million - your talent options multiply a hundredfold when you reach beyond your borders.
The traditional office, with its physical limitations and expenses, is becoming obsolete in this context. Embracing remote work doesn't just save on rent or the cost of hipster beanbags; it opens the doors to a richer, more diverse talent pool.
The most seamless access to this global talent often occurs in the dark forest, particularly in the virtual space. Immigration policies vary, but in many places, the physical journey across borders – trekking through nature, crossing rivers – remains the most straightforward path, albeit fraught with challenges and devoid of the comforts of legal procedures.
Countries like the United Arab Emirates, with Dubai as a prime example, have thrived by leveraging easy immigration policies. There, immigration is linked to employment, not social benefits, streamlining access to both skilled and unskilled labor without the usual regulatory tangles.
In the dark forest, traditional employment and social security constructs are absent. This space is a true meritocracy: arrive, contribute meaningfully, and earn your keep. However, the challenge arises when the dark forests has a physical form within territories governed by states less receptive to external talent. Some dark forests transcend physical borders, existing entirely in the digital realm, unfettered by territorial policies, epitomising the ideal of unbounded access to global talent and opportunity.
In the dark forest, collaboration has evolved, transcending the confines of physical walls and geographical boundaries. Gone are the days when proximity dictated productivity, when meetings in stuffy rooms set the rhythm of work. Now, we are untouched by the constraints of time and space.
Picture this: a writer, an editor, a graphic designer, each a solitary wanderer in this forest, their paths intertwining through the ether of the internet. Collaborative document editing becomes their shared canvas, Signal or other encrypted communication system their common ground. They are phantoms to each other, their presence known only by the traces left in the digital – a corrected typo, a graphic design, a fleeting message. Their meetings are not necessities but celebrations, rare gatherings not for coordination but for communion.
This evolution extends beyond mere convenience. It signals a shift in the very fabric of how we work and collaborate. The traditional overseer, the boss pacing corridors, ensuring punctuality and productivity, is now an anachronism, a relic of a bygone era. In this new world, coordination and transaction costs plummet, facilitated by the plethora of apps and the burgeoning sharing economy.
Yet, this transformation is not without its challenges. For tasks still anchored in the physical realm, the digital connection falters. The mechanic mending the tangible, the barista and the cook – their roles remain, for now, less susceptible to this digital transcendence.
Despite these limitations, the potential is immense. As physical barriers dissolve, the global market opens up, offering unparalleled access to talent and resources. The programmer in India, the designer in Europe, each brings their unique skills to this vast digital bazaar. In this world, being a solitary entity – a one-man company – is not a disadvantage but a strength, a testament to agility and adaptability.
But what of economies of scale, that age-old mantra of the business world? Yes, producing a million pots is cheaper per unit than crafting a singular masterpiece. But this efficiency comes at a cost – the need for vast infrastructure, capital, logistics. The narrative is further complicated by the state's preference for the large and established, often at the expense of the small and nimble. Big is fragile.
Digital presence allows for wider cooperation of peer-to-peer network of nodes in the dark forest rather than old-school hierarchical structures. And where will this lead? One interesting development is becoming Satoshi Nakamoto - an anonymous creator in a vast web of dark forest’s anonymous production networks.
Hollow firm
A hollow firm has no offices, no employees. It owns a domain name, customer and producer relationships and its own reputation. The goal of the hollow firm is to adapt to markets. In the times of market expansion, it can seize the market opportunities and create value. In the hard times, it costs next to nothing to own.
The hollow firm is agile, and embracing the philosophy of optionality. This elusive entity owns nothing but the ethereal wealth of know-how and connections. It shuns the physical for the digital, preferring a virtual presence over concrete walls.
The hollow firm is a network, not a hierarchy. Collaborators, not employees, pulse through its veins, their efforts as transient as the firm itself. It forges alliances with delivery and logistics companies, but only as fleeting partnerships, easily made and undone.
Education and marketing are whispers in the digital wind, webinars recorded in solitude, reaching those who seek knowledge at their leisure. The firm avoids the shackles of long-term contracts and fixed payments, instead weaving a web of possibilities, always asking how each tie adds options without obligations.
Responsive to the market's rhythm, the hollow firm expands and contracts with demand. It seizes opportunities, mines them, and fades away when they're exhausted. It's a symbol of adaptability and choice, thriving in the depths of the dark forest.
Too small to fail
In the shadowed groves of the financial world, a different kind of entity thrives – the small, the nimble, the "too small to fail." During the tumult of 2008-2009, giants stumbled, teetered on the brink, their sheer size demanding salvation from the state. Yet, in this crisis, the green spotlight of profit and loss statements turns not to the colossal but to the compact.
Smaller enterprises, individuals even, dance on the edge of a different precipice. They bear not the burdensome overheads of their larger counterparts – the weighty salaries, the sprawling offices, the myriad of fixed costs that chain like anchors. Instead, they glide, unencumbered by the excesses that drag down the giants in times of turmoil.
In this dance of survival, the question arises – is bigger truly better? The corporate leviathans, with their armies of employees, their mountains of infrastructure, stand exposed to market whims. A shift, a tremor in the economic landscape, and they falter, struggling under the weight of their own enormity.
Contrast this with the one-man venture, the independent spirit. Their agility lies in their simplicity – low operational costs, and a direct line from creation to consumer. They are the antithesis of fragility, able to weather storms that would buffet and bruise the behemoths.
The larger entities do hold some advantages – cushions of capital, lines of credit, the ability to pivot, to absorb shocks through sheer mass and resources. Yet, this capacity to 'dump a bag of money on the problem' often masks underlying issues, delays the inevitable reckoning of inefficiencies and missteps.
The main power of the multinational lies in the possibility to buy politicians. But this super-skill is useless in the dark forest.
In this landscape, the small, the individual, holds a unique power – the power of agility, of innovation unfettered by cumbersome corporate structures. They are the embodiment of the dark forest philosophy – standing out in a world where size is often mistaken for strength, where growth is equated with success.
This is the realm of the micro, the domain of the resilient and the adaptable. Here, growth is not a by-product of success, but a choice, a strategic decision weighed against the backdrop of a world that equates bigness with greatness. In the dark forest, the small thrive, not in spite of their size, but because of it.
Fear as a tool of political marketing
In the perpetual dance of political theater, fear reigns supreme, a master puppeteer pulling the strings of the electorate. Like a shadowy figure of society, politicians craft tales of terror – a “far-right” politician, climate change, immigrants, capitalists, terrorists – weaving nightmares to ensnare the minds of voters. This is the age-old recipe for power: concoct a fear, magnify it, then pose as the savior, the knight battling the dragon of societal woes.
Thinking becomes futile in this game; emotion is the currency, and fear the commodity traded. Political rivals are painted as architects of these fears, a boogeyman lurking behind every societal ill. Yet, when the victors ascend their thrones, the fears often dissipate, not because they were addressed, but because they were illusions, mirages in the desert of political discourse.
The antidote to this pervasive fear lies in awareness, in stepping out of the shadows and into the moonlight of understanding. For example Tim Ferriss created "fear setting" as a tool to dissect and dismantle these manufactured terrors. For in fear, critical thinking withers; like prey fleeing a predator, the mind resorts to primal instincts, neglecting reason and logic.
This manipulation is not limited to the political arena. It pervades every facet of society, from insurance sales to marketing strategies. Here, too, fear is a tool, wielded to dull the senses and cloud judgment. But knowledge is power. Understanding these tactics empowers us to resist, to see beyond the smoke and mirrors.
Nassim Nicholas Taleb says we should not measure risks we are taking, but take risks we understand. Yet understanding risks is difficult and thus we are handed centralised measurements - “fear this”!
In the grand scheme of societal control, fear is a double-edged sword. It has been a guardian, a protector in our evolutionary journey, yet it has become a weapon in the hands of those seeking power. The key lies in discerning its true nature, in distinguishing between genuine threats and shadows cast by those who wish to control us.
We should recognize when fear is used as a leash, and to choose whether to break free or remain bound. It's a call to venture into the dark forest, where politician-manufactured fears have almost no power. We should be armed with awareness and critical thinking, to find our path in a world where fear is no longer the compass that guides us.
That depends on what you prefer.
See @note196fgc92ndctcmaydy59ynfppvnu9egcyumjasaxvc50va894e5cqdn898c
That is a different use of the same phrase, not lunarpunk per se.
By dark forest thrives on anonymity. Although it's existence is usually known, the shape and content is more obscured though.
Being entrepreneurial is a rare skill these days. It can be learned and trained.
An entrepreneur is not a "startup founder". The goal of the entrepreneur is to create value (profit) and not sell to a venture capital fund. An entrepreneur looks around him/her and identifies "money on the table" opportunities.
You can recognize them by the fact that they solve often diverse problems around them. They see an opportunity and often take it, even though it sometimes is quite different than what they are usually doing. The loop of problem => opportunity => value creation is what tells them apart from median population. And of course how they work with risk.
They are rarely fixated on one area, it is more of a mindset and personality trait than a craft or expertise.
You can rarely experience true art, one that is interesting, beautiful and is not a manifestation of some woke trauma. Artists, especially in Europe tackle "social issues", mainly because that's where public institutions money are poured to.
The artist trauma is disproportionate, academic and mostly out of touch with reality.
This is not a rant against mainstream art, which is usually based on capitalism and real demand. Mainstream art is simple - sing alongs, pretty pictures, shallow stories. Hollywood movies capture and merge this aesthetic into a few hour blocks, streamed through corporate streaming networks or served with popcorn and Coca Cola in 15D ultrahyperdolbysuperscreen cinemas. Commercial main stream art is more honest than woke trauma art. It is a product that fulfills real needs.
This fact is absolutely hated by the woke art establishment. They despise art that is not approved by them, but is financed by market forces and demand. They want to be gatekeepers, choosing narratives, approved artists. They want to mold the art hierarchy to their liking.
Niche art that is sophisticated, yet not based on academic curators approving grant money can be seen in places where art had not been infected with woke socialism and propaganda. In or near hipster cafeterias and meeting places in Asia. In private residencies and secret events.
Or manifesting as parallel (second) culture... in the dark forest.
Outside of dark forest, blend in. In the dark forest, stand out.
In mainstream society, blending in is a good strategy. If you look like a normie, you don't threaten anyone's position in a hierarchy. There is no envy if you are a normal person in a cheap t-shirt, no expensive watch, or car. You can still enjoy luxuries of the world. You can use the idea by Tim Ferriss - own nothing, but rent and thus have access to everything. Of course you can still own things, no need to comply with old guys in suits ideas from wef, the key is to blend in, and the mainstream society will leave you alone.
In the dark forest is your place to stand out. Present your uniqueness, shine your light. Show what you are made of.
The niche
There is something lurking in the shadows of the commercial world. It's the niche and microbrands created by niche demands, but especially by eccentric entrepreneurs.
The niche represents a return to the essence, a rebellion against the blinding glare of mass consumerism. Just as darkness allows for a genuine, unadulterated perception of reality, microbrands offer authenticity in an era of manufactured appeal. They are the whispers in a world of shouts, providing a personal touch in an otherwise impersonal mass market corporate landscape.
In this quiet rebellion, these brands echo the philosophy of decentralized energy and currency. Like opting for solar power or Bitcoin, choosing a microbrand is a conscious decision to step away from the centralized, controlled norms of consumerism. These microbrands are not just products; they are statements of individuality and choice. In a world oversaturated with stimuli, microbrands offer a sanctuary, a return to simplicity and genuineness.
There are two ways to create a lot of value. Help a lot of people at least a little, or help a few people a lot. There are not many people in the dark forest, so the latter is a more prevalent way to value creation in the dark forest, although both exist.
There is a fashion designer with a microbrand, a special milk producer with a small farm that makes amazing milk for flat whites, a microlot coffee importer and brewer. A massage therapist with a family business of their own techniques. A resilient internet service provider that offers privacy centric server housing. A phone dealer with specialized privacy centric GrapheneOS based phones. A niche musician channeling the energy of a dark forest. An ice cream maker using herbs that grow in the dark forest. A shaman combining various mushrooms and herbs for every situation.
And an anonymous biographer of people living in the dark forest... 👋
On pretending and authenticity...
Totalitarian communist countries led people into pretending. Lying all the way, bottom up, just to paint a nice picture with fake numbers.
The corporate culture of meetings and busy-ness is also full of pretend. Wasting time from meeting to meeting, taking notes, pushing paper. The results will come some day, today I'd rather go through the email.
The more the society is free, the harder it is to pretend. You can't fake value creation if it is measured in money, especially hard money.
Status thrives on faking.
Free society that has profit incentives does not need pretending. Nassim Nicholas Taleb said that the only person you should impress is your accountant.
Profit is self-referential. Are you satisfied with what you created? Are you better than yesterday? Did you meet your own expectations?
If you are motivated by internal goals, you can be truly authentic.
In the darkness, we can be invisible. Darkness provides anonymity, we can selectively reveal something about ourselves, but shining just enough light on ourselves.
Darkness eliminates third parties. You need to get close enough to see what is going on. And you will be seen, if you are a third party. Darkness is a whisper to the ear, not a megaphone. Darkness is intimate. We make love in darkness, or by a gentle candle light.
Darkness has been there before light. It is the natural state of being. When we close our eyes, we are with ourselves, by ourselves. Many people fear this situation, we have unlearned to be without sensory distractions, afraid of our (un)consciousness.
Dark forest is nothing to be afraid of. It is booming with life - mycelial networks facilitating energy exchange. Various species of plants and animals, gravitating towards equilibrium. We are guests in the dark forest. Our minds are illuminated by the moon, a symbol of life.
Dark forest is not an escape. Darkness itself is not an escape. It allows us to truly see, truly be, in the present moment, with ourselves. There are no distractions, shining blinking objects. Darkness reveals the reality as it is.
In darkness, there are no distractions.
On proxy merchants...
In this highly globalized and specialized economy, with long supply chains and advanced technologies, striving for self-sufficiency is not possible - it would put us years behind in the economic development of highly advanced products.
Unless we want to turn old-school, farm to mouth, we need trade with the larger markets outside of the dark forest. With financial surveillance and economic control, this becomes a bit more difficult... especially after the introduction of CBDCs and phasing out of cash.
This problem is being solved by proxy merchants. They get paid in anonymous cryptocurrency and can supply you with whatever you need from the mainstream economy. In many cases they can get around various consumption taxes, or provide privacy (making purchases either anonymous or pseudonymized using special purpose companies or other means).
Proxy merchants also solve the other side of the trade - helping entrepreneurs in the dark forest sell products and services in the mainstream economy.
This sounds like a scifi concept, but there are proxy merchants doing this already.
What is the dark forest?
The dark forest is an idea, it's a place to be, it's a societal structure, a way to look at the world.
It is not the mainstream society nor it aspires to be.
It is a parallel society and parallel economy. It is a place where we value anonymity and human creativity.
Inside the dark forest, it is more important what you create (produce) than who you are. This has many reasons. Anonymity removes status games and hierarchies. You either provide a good product or service or you don't. It does not matter what school you went to, how rich you are, if you are someone's boss or a freelance. Political affiliations don't have any meaning in the dark forest either.
The other reason is that anonymity takes away the power of the state. When the body that can be put to jail disappears, the state is powerless.
The dark forest thrives on bitcoin, one of the few things you can actually really own. It can't be confiscated.
The dark forest is a place you enter with your mind.
The dark forest is a place where you can be free from the influences of a sick mainstream society, where you can thrive and grow.
It is not a "safe space". There are tricksters and scammers, anonumous souls are often mean, but conflict and bad attitude does not help them much in creating and mutually beneficial exchange. Opinions don't matter in the dark forest as much as producing.
The dark forest embodies a societal structure that values anonymity, creativity, and meritocracy over traditional status markers like wealth, background, or political affiliations.
Come in!