MOONMARS
So what is actually up there?
Forty-seven artworks, etched into metal at microscopic size and left in Mare Crisium on 2 March 2025. No power, no servers, nothing to maintain. They will still be there when every website that ever described them is gone.
Nice. But how would anyone know one of them is mine?
That part can't go to the Moon. So we wrote it somewhere about as hard to change: a public register anybody can read and nobody can quietly edit. Not us either — that is rather the point.
And that register is the NFT bit.
It is. A token isn't the picture — the picture is on the Moon. The token is the line that says this one is yours, written where it can be checked by anyone and erased by no one.
People say that about a lot of things.
They do, and usually it's the weak half of the deal. Most tokenised things point at something in a warehouse, a database or a promise — things that can be moved, sold twice or quietly disappear. This one points at an object 384,400 km away that nobody can reach, alter or repossess. The proof and the thing it points at are, for once, equally permanent.
Fine. What do I actually get?
A black-and-white thumbnail of one of the 47, drawn at the moment you mint, for a few cents. Every one ever minted moves our little astronaut two miles closer to the Moon. The full-colour originals are one of a kind and live in the museum and on OpenSea.
That is the whole offer. No promises of profit, no benefits, no roadmap — a small thing that is genuinely yours, pointing at something genuinely out of reach.