After a break from woodcarving I'm back and have just finished oiling my latest creation....Frankenstein....what do you think?

Daily Log #2 (no pun intended)

Daily Log #1

A superb example of the shape and consistency I can achieve

Freshly oiled and ready to paint...should I?

I had to show you the refinements I've made with the basswood car ing of a face I'm doing, I'm genuinely happy with it....whats your opinion?

Also should I oil or paint or both?

Last photos of the wood carved head work in progress before I finish the ears and paint it... Am very pleased with my progress, and can see my own improvements but curious what u all think? Criticism, or judgements accepted ))

Further progress on the large head I'm carving from basswood, eyebrows added, hair added, some light sanding..

Further progress update on the large basswood carving of a head I'm pursuing.....possibly my most ambitious carving yet....how's it looking so far?

Latest woodcarving is taking shape, carved out of a harder, larger piece of basswood....pleased with the proof of work so far )) what do u think?

A Bitcoin poem:

The Ballad of the Invisible Coin

In circuits deep, where shadows play,

A whisper bloomed one fateful day—

A coin not forged by hammer’s might,

But born of code in endless night.

Satoshi’s breath, a fleeting spark,

Lit freedom’s flame against the dark.

No vaults of stone, no king’s decree,

Can chain its dance, so wild, so free.

The blockchain hums, a river’s tune,

A ledger carved beneath the moon—

Each miner’s whirr, a thread of trust,

Weaves gold from air, from dream, from dust.

Through wires it leaps, a phantom gleam,

A rebel’s hope, a tinker’s dream.

No greedy hand can clutch it tight,

It slips like stars through grasping night—

A penny’s worth, a fortune’s span,

It rests in every seeking hand.

Yet shadows creep where light does fall,

False tongues weave snares to trap us all.

But still it shines, unbowed, unbent,

A silent vow, a testament—

To worlds remade, to chains undone,

A coin for all beneath the sun.

So sing its tale, both bold and strange,

Of wealth that shifts, of tides that change.

From Satoshi’s shade, it took its flight,

A spark to set the world alight—

Bitcoin, the gleam no storm can claim,

A riddle wrapped in freedom’s name.

Can anyone with a 3D printer make me a tiny little bitcoin logo stamp? It needs to be about 5mm x 5mm.

Or does anyone know where I can purchase one?

Cycloptic bitcoin man is now finished, carved, painted and tickety-boo!

Thanks for the love everyone, another little guy joins the horses of carved creatures I've amassed!

I'm stuck knowing what colour to paint the rest of my bitcoiner Cyclops....what colour should I paint the towel, trousers and trainers? He already has the bitcoin orange t shirt ....

I have one already!

Thank you for the support and sats it means a hell of a lot!

A selection of my woodcarvings, from some of my earliest to some of my latest. Proof of work certainly pays dividends as I improve slowly and steadily.

Woodcarving of a little fella I like to call "Dr FeelGood",

Really pleased with how his facial expression came out and his giant smile!

Let me know what u think, and any ideas of what to carve next!

Thanks maven! The carving of a dog that I'm most pleased with so far ))

Little schnauzer dog I carved from basswood is now finished and painted.....how did I do?

1/n Bitcoin - short story.

The Collapse and the Chain

It started with the flare. On June 17, 2041, a solar storm unlike any in recorded history erupted from the sun—a coronal mass ejection so massive it dwarfed the Carrington Event of 1859. Earth’s magnetic shield buckled. Satellites fried, power grids collapsed, and digital banking systems—already fragile from decades of reckless money printing—went dark. Within hours, the world’s financial arteries clogged. ATMs spat useless error codes, credit cards became plastic relics, and cash, where it still existed, lost meaning as supply chains seized. Billions watched their savings vanish into a void of ones and zeros.

Mira Torres was in São Paulo when it hit. The city’s neon skyline blinked out, plunging 20 million people into chaos. She’d been a data analyst, crunching numbers for a crumbling central bank, but that job evaporated with the grid. Looters torched markets, governments declared martial law, and hyperinflation—already a specter—exploded. The Brazilian real, like every fiat currency, became kindling overnight. Mira bartered her last protein bars for a solar charger and a battered handheld radio, clinging to rumors of a solution.

Want to read more?