“BITCOIN BITCH” – Women’s Crypto Empowerment


“Bitcoin Bitch” stares you down in an urban setting, graffiti wall her temple. For she is a goddess. Do not be misled by her street style or snarling attitude, she is Hecates with her faithful dog guardians. She stands with the power of witchcraft, the magic of crypto currency as her power. A Bitcoin hangs from her neck like a snake, representing this power.

I have just finished this digital painting “Bitcoin Bitch” and my name is MISS AL SIMPSON. I have sold the most ever artworks on the main 1/1 platform, Super Rare and I have already exhibited a digital NFT in Bonhams first ever NFT auction in London. I am exhibiting “Bitcoin Bitch” at a crypto art exhibition ‘Dreamverse” in New York in November 2021. I am able to do so as I am one of the many female crypto artists making a reputation as a serious artist globally. I am doing so by utilising the power of a global revolution that is more powerful that the internet – the BLOCKCHAIN.

As the artist, I may not have dyed blonde hair and a bespoke Bitcoin Bitch oversized puffer jacket but this piece feels like a self portrait of sorts. For the magic of cryptoart and the blockchain has served me well. It has made me and so many women like me empowered. True empowerment comes from within and I think that on some higher, esoteric level, the blockchain can be aligned with that personal empowerment. This alignment is something that women in particular can tap into. We all represent some kind of ancient goddess – it is encoded into our archetype. We are taught from an early age, in this patriarchial world to disguise it, hide it, dismiss it. But, it is still there, as dormant as a sleeping Doberman guard dog. Sleeping but powerful and aggressive when roused.

I wish that I could sugar coat this but when I first came across the blockchain and cryptoart, I was not feeling empowered at all. I had given my power away for so long that that first taste of pure self empowerment again after so many years tasted like freedom. And as soon as I did, I woke up my guard dogs and slung that Bitcoin snake symbol around my neck and started making and tokenizing as much art as I could.

Obviously, there are still concerns about equality in cryptoart as there are in the old art world but this time, it really is different. If you are a female artist, analogue or crypto, sling that crypto symbol around your neck and start tuning into the blockchain.

What crypto will do for women is beyond our imagination. Crypto female empowerment is going to change the world.

We will no longer be slaves to outdated marriage institutions.

We will no longer give up our financial freedom to bring up our children.

We will no longer be seen as inferior in any way.

We will stand like “Bitcoin Bitch” with our crypto and guard dogs, empowered and powerful, with the remains of a desiccated patriarchy at our feet.

View “Bitcoin Bitch” on Super Rare Art – HERE



Pink smeared lip, scowl of neon attitude,

Peroxide blonde, with a peroxide mood.

Heads turn but she snaps them back with a sneer,

Punk Marilyn on the sidewalk with cheap warm beer.

Warhol would have loved her; she would have sent him packing.

NYC is her city; reflecting punk life, brutal but cracking.





There is something strange about The Odeon, the old cinema down in the Valley of the Stars. Flashing neon lights make this place glitch every time she walks by. She shivers as graffiti glows hard on the wall outside. A masked woman passes her, nodding shapeless head, a smile stretching the fabric. She feels another glitch come on; the energy is strange here. A Hitchcock wannabe poses outside with grey goose and a perfect pout. But the film directors are long gone and only faded neon lights up her face. Red glitch, yellow glitch, it is a monument to abandoned urban hope.




Movie-star in love with golden aquila,

lay across ancient ruins like Roman goddess

with arched back and five star insecurities.


Rasping vespa screeched around ancient stones,

as she splashed porcelain in crystal clear fountains,

trying to be sultry native with hopeless words.


Don’t let her read the love poems of Catullus,

or she will be forever dreaming of thousands of kisses,

tortured by unrequited love and hooded traitors.


Hallucinating tattooed film stars and la dolce vita,

she was lost to the city and it swept her up,

along with all the other wannabe Italian starlets.


Flashing hearts in this urban jungle, she keeps hers firmly under wraps. Cabs spin past in the burning summer heat; the warmth tempting her charcoal eyes to look beyond the sidewalk. Her love for this sprawling high rise playground is flashing in cold blue neon just outside her window. She will never leave here; this is her patch, her piece of the action. Flash, NYC neon, flash and keep her close to your warm concrete walls.

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High rise block in the urban sprawl of Parisian suburb. Flashes of yellow and green, heartbeat of bright red light. Grey blocks of monotone are not the plan for her, no, she has bigger plans than concrete jungle. Couture rags with a broken lining, Parisian Suburb is her home but it does not define her. She came from nothing but she will be something. The pulse urges through her veins like molten colour; bright flashes of pure brilliance. But she doesn’t see them. Yet. She will one day soon.

The day she leaves the Parisian Suburb for good.




Fast nights on these neon streets, she knew it would be this way. She falls out of mint green Tokyo taxi and adjusts her fluorescent attitude. Swaying in between glossy smiles and shining eyes, tequila shots to the brain. Pounding beats hit the Roppongi streets as she sparkles in-between glossy nightclubs. Roppongi nights are the best.