[ad_1]
hThere is a complex ethical conundrum – how much can you bring yourself to care about the suffering of a monumental moron? Do you coolly say “No way!” and move on with your day? Do you say “I have limited resources and I’d rather spend them on people who aren’t stupid?” Do you say “No dumbass is a dumbass, just as none of us are completely free of dumbness—therefore our common humanity always requires a degree of empathy and compassion from us?” Think, then test yourself again at the end of 90 minutes of The Stormtrooper Scandal. Send the results on a postcard to the usual address.
The Stormtrooper Scandal tells the story of West London art curator Ben Moore, who became a crapper when he moved into the shadowy world of NFTs (non-fungible tokens, here in the form of digital art) and cryptocurrency, apparently knowing nothing about NFT, cryptocurrency or intellectual property that is inherent in various types of art.
Moore has been putting on Art Wars shows – sets of Star Wars stormtrooper helmets customized by various artists, including big names like Damien Hirst, the Chapman brothers and Anish Kapoor – for several years since 2013 for charity. They boosted his profile but didn’t bring him decent money. What to do, what to do?
Artist Bran Symondson, a friend of Moore’s, introduced him to the idea of selling as NFTs photos of the helmets he had accumulated over the years. As I understand it – and the movie does such a good job of trying to explain it that if I haven’t I can only apologize and/or suspect that trying to figure it out is a fool’s game – it means taking a picture of custom Stormtrooper helmet and giving that photo a unique digital ID on the blockchain (think of it as an invisible watermark) so that only one person can “own” it. The owner – or “owner” – can then trade it on the open NFT market with people who also understand, or claim to understand, what’s going on, what they’re getting, and why it’s worth anything at all.
Anyway. Moore finds some “cryptobros” online who can help him with this, commissioning other artists to create non-physical custom helmets (and this is where, I admit, I really start to split my understanding of events). He then announces a massive “drop” on these items/non-items and the hype starts to build.
The next day, the entire collection sold out in five seconds. Furious trading ensues and Moore and the cryptobros take a piece of it all and make (roughly) millions. Then some of the artists realized that photos of their works were being taken and sold without permission. To Moore’s apparent utter surprise, this matters and ultimately ends up rendering NFTs worthless. Angry artists, investors—including some ordinary people who can’t afford to lose their money—and lawyers began and continue to this day to make his life miserable.
The question of whether Moore was unhappy, fat, careless, incompetent – or worse – is the question that permeates the film. Artist Chemical X calls him a “chic chance boy,” a description that certainly seems to fit the vaguely shambolic but smug figure who is interviewed about his failures and possible transgressions on screen. He may have been at least partially duped by the crypto team, who disappeared back into cyberspace, leaving him no way to track them down (he never learned their real names). Perhaps investor greed and lack of due diligence played a role. But the idea that Moore did not know that he was sailing close to the wind seems very improbable.
Moore’s lazy nonchalance and quick double-takes in front of the camera don’t help his cause. He was eager to get the project off the ground, he explains, and figured he’d work out “all the kinks” later rather than risk delay or abandonment. He thinks anyone would be tempted to do what he did with the prospect of so much money “on the other side”.
after the promotion of the newsletter
[ad_2]
