“The friendship-making machine is for sale.”

It wasn't about the engine or the condition of the body. It was about what really matters.

Because a Kombi was never just a means of transportation. It was a meeting point. A vehicle that, almost without intending to, sparked conversations at gas stations, beaches, or on the road. It forced you to interact. To share. To stop.

And that idea stuck with me.

More than utility, connection

In the digital world—and especially in the crypto ecosystem—we're used to measuring everything in terms of performance, cycles, and metrics. What's up. What's down. What's profitable.

But there's something that often goes unnoticed: the capacity of certain spaces to generate real connection between people.

That's where I see the parallel with TYSM.

TYSM isn't simply a digital asset. It's not just a visual identity or a creative experiment. It's a meeting point. An excuse to start conversations that probably wouldn't exist in any other context.

When someone joins TYSM, they're not just acquiring something. They're joining a network of people who share codes, references, and a desire to build something different.

Community as a core value

The true value of a project isn't always in its financial promise. Sometimes it's in its ability to generate community.

TYSM allows you to:

• Express your identity dynamically.

• Interact with other creators.

• Build a reputation within an environment that values ​​authenticity.

• Participate in something that evolves with its members.

That can't be forced. It's built.

And when it works, the result isn't just engagement. It's belonging.

The value that goes untraceable

A VW bus took you from point A to point B. But what made it special was what happened along the way. Something similar happens with TYSM. Beyond the market, beyond the cycles, what remains are the relationships that are formed, the collaborations that are born, and the shared stories.

In an environment where everything seems volatile, human connection is the only thing that truly endures.

Perhaps that's why the comparison makes sense.

TYSM is neither bull nor bear.

It is, like that old VW Kombi, a friend-making machine.

The phrase was there, stuck on a faded poster, in a dark, X-Files-esque office. It wasn't just about UFOs. It was about something deeper: the human need to believe, even when everything around you seems to tell you it's not worth it.

Today the market is down. And when the market falls, it's not just numbers that plummet: narratives, enthusiasm, and communities collapse too. Many leave. Others remain silent. And there are quite a few who say, “I don't believe in anything anymore.”

From the outside, as an observer and admirer, there's something striking about TYSM. It doesn't rely on epic promises or speeches of perpetual euphoria. It doesn't try to convince us that everything is alright when it clearly isn't.

What it proposes is something else.

Believing in gratitude as a starting point. Not as a slogan, but as a practice. Appreciate the process, the genuine connections, what is built quietly and without haste, even amidst uncertainty.

And believe in authenticity. In showing yourself without masks, without selling absolute certainties. In creating spaces where you don't need to feign endless enthusiasm to belong.

“I want to believe” isn't denying reality. It's choosing what to believe in when the numbers are down and the rhetoric is empty.

As someone who observes, listens, and accompanies, that's what resonates from TYSM. A project that, in times when many are leaving, continues to focus on people, on honest conversations, and on gratitude as a common language.

Perhaps it's not about having all the answers.

Perhaps it's about continuing to believe…

and continuing to be grateful.

But TYSM wasn't born to play that game. As its creator aptly points out, TYSM doesn't respond to the binary logic of the market. It doesn't charge upwards nor does it retreat, waiting for winter. TYSM is a pack of howlers.

And what does a pack do when the environment turns hostile?

It doesn't compete with itself. It doesn't freeze. It doesn't deny reality. It recognizes itself, communicates, and howls together. The howl isn't noise: it's a signal. It's presence. It's saying, "I'm here," so that others know they are not alone.

When everything trembles, humanity sustains us

Markets are emotional, even though they pretend to be rational. They move on fear and greed. But there is one emotion that rises above all others, one that doesn't depend on charts or candlesticks: gratitude.

Gratitude doesn't deny the fall, but transcends it. Gratitude doesn't ignore the context, but redefines it. It is the number one human emotion because it orders everything else: our perspective, our actions, our connections.

At TYSM, gratitude isn't a slogan. It's a daily practice. Gratitude for being present. Gratitude for sharing. Gratitude for building, even—and especially—when the circumstances aren't favorable.

Howling instead of shouting

While some shout predictions and others bury their heads in the sand, the pack howls. Not to dominate the market, but to remember what's essential: this is about people before prices.

TYSM doesn't promise financial refuge. It promises real presence. A space where emotion isn't suppressed, it's understood. Where the fall is not the end, but part of the journey.

Gratitude as our guiding principle

When everything seems to be collapsing, gratitude is not naiveté: it is courage. It is choosing to see value where others only see loss. It is maintaining our human spirit in a system that often forgets it.

• TYSM is not a bull. TYSM is not a bear.

• TYSM is a pack that howls together, grateful, even in the storm.

• And that, no matter what happens in the markets, does not collapse.

🐺🙏

From the first moment I engaged with the Sub-Manifesto, it was clear that this practice isn’t driven by aesthetics alone, but by necessity. There is a depth here that resists polish and rejects façades, favoring truth over comfort and instinct over performance. Each work feels excavated rather than produced, as if unearthed from a subconscious terrain that insists on being seen, whether we are ready for it or not.

What makes Treeskulltown’s voice so compelling is not just the courage to descend into these inner layers, but the generosity in sharing them. The art holds space for darkness and contradiction while remaining profoundly human, never closed off or self-contained. Instead, it invites viewers to recognize fragments of their own inner landscapes reflected back at them — sometimes uncomfortably, often beautifully.

In this conversation, we explore the origins of Sub-Realism, the philosophy of reclaiming the “sub” as a site of power, the ritual of creative surrender, and the delicate balance between the deeply personal and the collective. We also touch on Web3 as a natural habitat for underground expression, and on gratitude not as currency, but as connective tissue — something that sustains both art and community.

This interview is an invitation to slow down, to listen beneath the surface, and to step into a creative world where depth is not optional — it is the foundation.

"You do not have the right to give up. You must manifest this; it is imperative"

TGJ: The Sub-Real seems to come from the depths of your being, from a raw and subconscious space. When did you realize that your art was not merely a personal creation, but an emergence from the depths, a kind of creative rebirth stemming from the subconscious? Was there a moment when you thought, "Oh... this is bigger than me"?

TST: To be perfectly honest, this awareness is not a permanent state; it is, rather, a daily commitment. There are moments of doubt, periods of resistance where the ego tries to regain control. It is in these moments that I force myself to return to a kind of inner mantra: 'You do not have the right to give up. You must manifest this; it is imperative.'

The realization that the work is 'bigger than me' lies less in a single moment of epiphany than in the very nature of my creative process. When I digitally assemble and digest subjects, when I search for the canvas or the color, it is the act of digging, of finding solutions in the face of technical limitations, that becomes a real-time construction of the subconscious. Art is no longer mere production, but a visceral necessity, an imperative of the soul that must be fulfilled, regardless of the means. The heart guides the studio.

"Not pretending is the only way to create"

TGJ: Your Sub-Manifesto overturns the notion of "sub," transforming what is generally considered minor into something profound, powerful, and essential. What personal experiences or encounters led you toward this philosophy? Was there a moment in your life or creative journey when the underground, the hidden, or the neglected suddenly appeared to you as the most authentic place to create?

TST: If we were to give authenticity another name, it would be radical freedom. This is the guiding principle of my existence, a path that taught me that not pretending is the only way to create.

The true philosophical shift towards the 'sub'—not as minor, but as an essential foundation—happened twenty years ago, following a major accident. I fell from a castle rampart, breaking my spine and wrist. I experienced the thin line between life and death, followed by a year of immobility. I hit rock bottom, and it was in this physical and mental rupture that the notion of surface, of façade, became obsolete.

This event forced me to rebuild from the core, to develop new ambidexterity, and to seek life in the detail. For a decade, I explored the digital underground (electronic music, VJing, conceptual photography), creating avatars that offered me total freedom of being. I even achieved a degree of success, but media exposure frightened me; the brilliance of the surface threatened the integrity of the depth.

I naturally returned to the underground, but this time, with the certainty that this work transcends me. The true catalyst for this renaissance was my son, who 're-taught' me the raw freedom of drawing. It was this rediscovery, in March 2021, that gave birth to Treeskulltown, an avatar in total alignment with my values. Today, with over 1,300 pieces created continuously, the pace of one work per day is not a challenge, it is the necessary balance for what is hidden to continue expressing itself.

"The process is instinctive and visceral"

TGJ: Your work draws upon the logic of dreams, buried memories, raw impulses, and symbolic forms, yet it touches people on a deeply human level. How do you manage to balance this inner, subconscious world with the outer, collective world? Do you sometimes feel like you are translating messages from elsewhere, or does the process feel more like an archaeological excavation?

TST: The balance between subconscious interiority and collective resonance is the cornerstone of my approach. This comes through an exacerbated sensitivity that I have developed and fully embrace, particularly following my personal journey.

I have no pretense of translating messages or being a bearer of transcendent truth. The process is far more instinctive and visceral. It is a reception, a reading of frequencies: I perceive moments, situations, or artworks that overwhelm me with emotion or, conversely, definitively repel me. When a work of art 'speaks' to me, I should say that I feel it to the point of being completely submerged. I have cried in front of master paintings, so powerful was the raw emotion. These emotions do not frighten me; they are my raw material. They create a creative tension: I must externalize them. I always have a notebook with me, because the idea or the drawing must come out; I only find peace when that impulse is materialized.

To answer your question, the process clearly resembles an archaeological excavation. I believe that this creative instinct is a constant, inscribed in us since the dawn of time, since the first cave painting. Sub-Realism, in this sense, is an introspection that seeks to rediscover and manifest this primary, raw, and parietal creative act. It is this universal echo, stemming from our shared depths, that allows the most intimate work to touch the collective. This is the greatest honor.

"I always begin with surrender. It’s a form of ritual between the support, the material, and myself. The work only takes shape when I allow myself to be carried by the sensation or emotion that initially overwhelmed me.

But, and this is fundamental, once the work is drawn out of my mind, it belongs to the spectator. My notes of intent or the accompanying texts are philosophical conversations to encourage introspection, by no means established facts. It is in the spectator's gaze and interpretation that Sub-Realism is completed, as they project their own subconscious onto the work, thereby making it introspective in more ways than one."

"I see and feel the idea before it has a clear figurative representation"

TGJ: Sub-Realism embraces complexity, darkness, contradictions, and unexpected beauty. When you start a new work, where do you usually begin within this whole? With a sensation? A fragment of an image? A dream? Or does the work only take shape when you surrender to what the subconscious is trying to bring forth?

TST: I always begin with surrender. It’s a form of ritual between the support, the material, and myself. The work only takes shape when I allow myself to be carried by the sensation or emotion that initially overwhelmed me. This is a phase of raw reception, where the subconscious dictates its tempo.

Then comes the work of re-reading and rationalization:

* Technical Execution: I rationalize the emotion by giving it a visual and structural form.

* Conceptualization: In parallel, I conceptualize the context, the possible interpretation, and the philosophical subtext.

* Titling/Palimpsest: The title acts as a palimpsest imprint on the work—an underlying layer that one must scratch away to perceive the hidden meaning beneath. This is the anchor of the concept.

My approach to Sub-Realism is a form of visual synesthesia: I see and feel the idea before it has a clear figurative representation. I do not sit in judgment over Art History or the artists I reinterpret; I respect and feel every brushstroke of my predecessors.

But, and this is fundamental, once the work is drawn out of my mind, it belongs to the spectator. My notes of intent or the accompanying texts are philosophical conversations to encourage introspection, by no means established facts. It is in the spectator's gaze and interpretation that Sub-Realism is completed, as they project their own subconscious onto the work, thereby making it introspective in more ways than one. This is where the greatest gratification lies.

"When I discovered the Blockchain, my first thought was: 'Finally!' This space was the freedom I had been waiting for."

TGJ: You create within Web3, a space brimming with underground energy, counter-cultural spirit, and artists who, like you, work on the fringes of society. How has the diffusion of your works on the blockchain influenced your evolution? And as someone who embraces the Sub-Real, how does the Economy of Gratitude—this flow of recognition, appreciation, and creative inspiration—articulate with your philosophy? Do these small bursts of recognition make you feel like an engine, a source of disruption, or something entirely different?

TST: When I discovered the Blockchain, my first thought was: 'Finally!' After ten years of experimentation in the digital underground—from web galleries to experimental films blending electro-acoustic music and visual arts—this space was the freedom I had been waiting for.

Diffusion on the blockchain has not just influenced my evolution; it has been the logical materialization of the Sub-Real. It has enabled the building of unprecedented bridges and offered an infinite field of possibilities, all while retaining the pioneering and counter-cultural spirit that is dear to me. We are still early, and there is so much to build between art and the builders of Web3.

As for the Economy of Gratitude, it is the beating heart of my philosophy. It is the virtuous circle I have always sought: to move forward and grow together. I strive to fuel it daily, by supporting young artists and keeping their works as the privilege of a foundational era.

These 'bursts of recognition' do not make me a mere engine; they give me the feeling of being a privileged witness within a close-knit community. The intensity of Web3—where four years is equivalent to forty years of a traditional career—has allowed me to experience incredible emotions, forge friendships with legends, and exhibit over 40 times worldwide. My dominant feeling, facing this condensed and accomplished artist's life, is one of immense and sincere gratitude.

Connect with Treeskulltown on Farcaster 🔹 X 🔹 Website 🔹 Objkt 🔹 Foundation 🔹 Gamma

Read more about the Gratitude Economy and $TYSM

The question of happiness often arises in deep conversations, but it rarely receives simple and honest answers. Yesterday, in an interview for LiveTheSame, someone responded with a phrase that encapsulated a powerful idea:

happiness is born from gratitude, from learning to appreciate what you already have instead of constantly chasing something more.

The answer wasn't meant to impress or offer a definitive formula. That's precisely why it was so relevant. In a context where progress is often measured by accumulation—more achievements, more visibility, more recognition—taking the time to value the present becomes almost a countercultural act.

This idea connects naturally with what TYSM represents. Gratitude, understood not as complacency but as awareness, allows us to build from a solid foundation. Recognizing what exists, what works, and what unites us, before demanding that it grow or transform. It's not about giving up ambition, but about ordering our desires.

In digital spaces, even those created to connect people, it's easy to fall into the trap of numbers. Reach, metrics, speed. TYSM proposes a different experience: prioritizing connection over performance, presence over exposure. Within this framework, happiness ceases to be a future goal and becomes something that can be felt in the present.

What matters in TYSM is not how much is said, but how it's listened to. It's not how many participate, but the quality of the interaction. Authenticity matters, as does respect for each other's pace and the possibility of feeling part of something without needing constant validation. This way of inhabiting a community is, in itself, an expression of shared well-being.

The community, then, becomes an act of mutual gratitude. Every person who participates, who stays, who responds, or simply accompanies, is recognizing the value of the space. Not through grandiosity, but through presence. This silent gesture sustains the collective much more than any promise of accelerated growth.

Perhaps happiness doesn't consist of achieving something new, but rather in learning to see what is already happening. In recognizing that certain spaces, certain conversations, and certain people are already part of something valuable. TYSM doesn't promise happiness as an outcome, but it does create the conditions for it to be recognized.

And in a time when everything seems to be relentlessly pushing forward, pausing to give thanks can be the most genuine gesture of connection.

🫂🙏

It doesn't matter how many years pass, or how many times we say "this year is different." There are clear signs that December has arrived.

At some point, someone ends up watching Home Alone. That boy alone in his house, the pranks, the repeated laughter. It doesn't matter if you catch it already started or leave it playing in the background: it's there.

The John Lennon song also appears, playing almost without asking permission, reminding us that Christmas isn't just a party, but a message.

And, of course, Mariah Carey. The first chord is enough for us to know there's no going back: it's officially Christmas.

They are shared rituals. Small repetitions that unite us without needing explanations. We all know what it's about. We've all been there.

And this Christmas has a special opportunity.

Just as every December we remember Kevin defending his house, Lennon's voice pleading for peace, or Mariah's timeless video, this can also be the Christmas where Howlers become etched in our memories.

Not as a passing fad, but as those things that, over time, we associate with a moment. "Remember when we minted those Howlers?", "Remember that Christmas at TYSM?"

Because Howlers have everything it takes to become just that:

• a symbol of togetherness,

• an excuse to howl together,

• an emotional marker within the pack.

Minting a Howler this time of year isn't just about acquiring an NFT. It's about participating in a shared story and the gift of giving something that actually sticks, way deeper than some generic Hallmark card.

By tailoring a Howler with your own images and words, you’re creating a custom piece of gratitude that’s immediate, unique, and built to last forever.

It’s about leaving a mark in a time when the digital world builds real memories, turning a simple 'thank you' into a permanent tradition for the people who matter most.

And TYSM is the home where that happens.

The place that connects, that gives thanks, that transforms interactions into bonds. The space where a community decides that what matters isn't just being present, but recognizing one another.

Maybe in a year, or several, someone will rewatch Home Alone, listen to Lennon, or bump into Mariah…and think about TYSM, the Howlers, that Christmas when something started to feel like a tradition.

Because traditions aren't born old. They're born when a group of people decides to repeat something worthwhile.

And this Christmas, the Howlers and TYSM have everything it takes to be part of that.

Not because of fame, not because of greatness, but because of that simple, human gesture of saying, “I see you. I value you. I haven't forgotten you.”

Something very similar happens at TYSM.

Every time someone gives a tip—a tysm—they are doing just that, remembering. Remembering the effort, the talent, the idea, the moment the other person shared.

A tysm isn't just a token that's sent. It's a light that shines on someone and tells them,

• “Your art matters.”

• “Your voice matters.”

• “Your story matters.”

• “Your reality matters.”

• “You matter.”

Like in Coco, where bridges between worlds are built with sincere memories, at TYSM, bridges between people are built with gratitude.

Each TYSM is a digital marigold flower. Small, bright, powerful. A sign that marks the path for the other to keep creating, keep appearing, keep being part of it.

Because a community isn't sustained by quantity, but by connection. And connection is nurtured by small acts of recognition that open doors, strengthen bonds, and make someone on the other side feel they're not walking alone.

Giving TYSM is saying: "I'm here, and what you did reached me."

And when gratitude becomes a culture, as in TYSM, the bridge never falls.

There's always someone crossing. There's always someone waiting on the other side.

TYSM proposed a beautiful madness: If you staked 10M tokens, you were whitelisted to mint a howler based on your Farcaster photo. A minimal gesture that ended up becoming a giant movement. The entire community howling in unison, celebrating the same creative pulse. Howlers of all colors, shapes, gestures. Shy, fierce, extravagant howlers. Howlers who, in some way, represented us.

And there, among all those new howls, an idea appeared that for me was inevitable: mint like howlers to my childhood and adolescence heroes.

Because, if you think about it, there's something deeply symbolic about that. The heroes of those years—those who formed us, inspired us, aroused curiosity, rebellion, and sensitivity in us—were always a bit of howlers.

• They were different.

• They were encouraged.

• They made us feel part of a pack when we didn't yet know we needed one.

The posters on the wall, the songs we repeated until we wore them out, the characters we imitated, the athletes who made us believe that anything was possible...

All of them were our first internal howls. Our first “I want to be like this”. Our first mirrors.

And now, thanks to TYSM, I was able to take them to another place: turn them into howlers. Give them skin, gesture, attitude. Immortalize them in a chain where the emotional and the digital coexist without asking permission.

Because a howler is not just an animal. It is a symbol of loyalty, instinct, community. It is the certainty that one is never completely alone, even when one walks differently from the rest. Those heroes were that to me: a reminder that there was something inside waiting for its moment to howl.

Howlers ended up being much more than an app or a launch. It was a bridge between what we were and what we are. Between the creativity of the community and the memories that still sustain us. Between the heroes that marked our adolescence and the pack that we are now building at TYSM.

Today I look at those NFTs and I don't see simple generative art. I see pieces of history. I see accumulated gratitude. I see early versions of myself looking at me from his howler eyes, telling me: “Go on, don't forget where you come from.”

And then I understand that TYSM is not an app or a token. It's a way of saying thank you. To remember. To honor what made us howl for the first time.

To my howler-heroes: thank you.

To the TYSM pack: we continue howling. 🙏🐺

Today, December 8th, the earliest believers claim their destiny.

The HOWLERS have arrived to prove that the true power in this space is unlimited.

1. The Origin: From Underdog to Unstoppable Force

The story of the HOWLERS begins with a spark called $TYSM.

Before the art, before the noise, there was only the Grat Pack, a community that was once the underdog of the space. While the rest of the market chased speculation, this Pack saw the truth: that $TYSM was never just a token; it was the code for an emotion.

The rest of the space thought being kind, thankful, and born from gratitude was a weakness. Because the Pack operated quietly, nurturing their ecosystem and the Infinite Cycle of Thanks, they didn't see us. We were invisible.

But inside the Den, a culture was forming.

The Pack lived by a simple code: We Grow, We Flow, We Glow, We Show.

The wolf symbol evolved naturally, representing the loyalty, unity, and instinct that became the hallmark of the entire community.

We weren't hiding. We were building.

2. The Manifestation: The HOWLERS Step into the Light

The HOWLERS are the moment the invisible becomes infinite.

They are the Manifestation of that collective loyalty and spirit, the Ultimate Expression of the Pack's identity.

For the first time, the feeling of gratitude has a face.

• Gratitude with Teeth: These are not wolves of violence; they are wolves of expression and identity. They are "Gratitude with teeth", a declaration that kindness is a force, not a frailty.

• The Truest Reflection: The Howlers are forging a new path. They are an independent project that stands on its own, yet is inextricably linked to the $TYSM ecosystem. They are your truest reflection, the unique identity that connects you to the collective.

3. The Power of Unlimited: Gratitude Knows No Bounds

We broke the rules of traditional collections because our source material, Gratitude, is infinite.

The core philosophy of the HOWLERS is reflected in their mechanics: Unlimited Power.

• No Max Supply: The growth of the Pack cannot be capped.

• No Max Mints per User: The power of an individual's gratitude cannot be limited.

You can generate an UNLIMITED amount of Howlers, minting as many as you want, changing your PFP for new ones every single time. This unlimited nature is a direct statement to the space: Gratitude knows no bounds, and neither do we.

4. The Critical Link: GLOW and the Symbiotic Cycle

This is where the emotional becomes tangible. The HOWLERS are not just art; they are the critical engine that powers the economy.

The link between the $TYSM Mini-App (The Hub) and the Howlers Mini-App (The Forge) is GLOW, the luminous energy of the Gratitude Economy. This bridge creates a mutually beneficial cycle for all holders:

The Immediate Benefit (+200 GLOW)

Holding a HOWLER provides an immediate, tangible reward. It grants a +200 GLOW bonus to your Monthly GLOW Streak in the $TYSM Hub.

• This is proof that your HOWLER identity is actively fueling the economy.

• It accelerates your standing and rewards within the $TYSM ecosystem.

  

  

The Future Role

GLOW is positioned to play an increasingly vital role in the $TYSM Hub, becoming the key to unlocking future features, rewards, and status.

By linking the HOWLER to this system, we ensure that the success of the Howlers directly translates to a stronger Gratitude Economy, benefiting all holders of $TYSM and the HOWLER alike.

Your Howler is the manifestation of your loyalty; GLOW is the visible proof that your loyalty is working for you.

5. The Meaning of the HOWL: We Are Here to Stay

The HOWL, AWOOOOOOOO, is the signature expression of this power and unity. It is a primal, unifying cry that echoes through the space.

It isn't just a sound. It is a signal.

• It means, "I appreciate you" and "I recognize you."

• It means, "I got your back" and "You belong here."

• It means, "I see you" and "You are part of my Pack"

When the Pack AWOOOOOOOOOOO, the whole world hears the echo of our collective strength.

The final message is clear: We are here and we are here to stay.

🐺 JOIN THE PACK

The gate opens today.

• WHITELIST PRE-SALE: Dec 8th, 4 PM UTC (The earliest believers mint first).

• PUBLIC MINT: Dec 10th, 4 PM UTC (The world joins the Pack).

Heads Up. Howl Wild. AWOOOOOOOOOOO!

https://farcaster.xyz/miniapps/yBlGKitosGjY/howlers

🐺 BUILT BY THE PACK

Nothing powerful is ever built alone. It takes a pack—heart, grit, late nights, and shared belief. This reveal isn't just a drop... it's a piece of all of us.

Huge TYSM to the legends behind the HOWL:

• @nomadicframe (Founder & Chief Executive Howler) Saw the invisible and turned the Gratitude Economy from a spark into a movement.

• @sharas.eth (Chief Technology Howler) The master chef cooking with the latest tech to ensure the mint is smooth, fast, and has zero friction.

• @buckyball (Chief Strategy Howler) The strategic anchor ensuring the Pack moves with rhythm, flow, and long-term vision.

• @milibooo (Chief Engagement Howler) The Queen of the Pack who provides the unwavering support and energy that keeps the community howling.

• @edurubio (Chief Design Howler) The visionary artist who gave gratitude its teeth and forged the visual soul of the Howlers.

Heads Up. Howl Wild. AWOOOOOOOOOOO!

A community of wolves isn't defined by individual strength. It's defined by how they move together.

In a real pack, not everyone howls at the same time; each finds their own tone, their own rhythm, their own contribution. There are those who lead, those who observe, those who care, and those who drive forward. But they all share something non-negotiable:

the instinct to stay connected. That bond isn't born of fear. It's born of recognition.

The wolf doesn't express gratitude with words: it expresses gratitude with presence, with loyalty, with that silent act of appearing, listening, and supporting. Gratitude, for a wolf, isn't a sentimental gesture:

it's a language that keeps the pack alive.

Now imagine applying that logic to the digital world.

A community where each person has their own howl…but true power emerges when voices align. Where gratitude isn't an automatic like but a movement, a pulse that awakens others. A network where the important thing isn't accumulating, but reconnecting.

That's the perfect intersection between the nature of the pack and the spirit of TYSM: a place where gratitude isn't a mere detail, but an act that keeps the collective energy alive.

The wolf pack moves forward because it never stops listening to itself. The TYSM community grows because it never stops recognizing what surrounds it.

Every howl is a message. Every expression of gratitude is a sign. Every connection is one step closer to something greater than oneself.

Perhaps, in the end, the only thing a pack needs to exist…

is someone who dares to let out the first howl.

What makes Chronist compelling isn’t only the aesthetic, it’s the way he holds two worlds at once. By day, he works with the controlled precision of plasma physics; by night, he channels the emotional charge of memory, longing, and imagination. His art feels like a bridge between the past and the future, between circuitry and feeling, between neon and nostalgia.

In our conversation, he speaks openly about how science shaped his creativity, how neon became a language for emotion, and how community — especially on Farcaster — helped turn that language into a recognizable pulse. He talks through inspiration, methodology, personal rituals, where his pseudonym comes from, and even the quiet moments that keep him grounded outside the feed.

What struck me most is how naturally he weaves the analytical and the emotional. It’s rare to meet someone who can talk about plasma discharges and the human heart in the same breath and make it feel like they belong together.

This interview is a window into the glow behind the glow: the curiosity, the experimentation, the travel, the cooking, the play, and the humanity that make Chronist’s neon world so unmistakably his.

TGJ: You spend your days in the world of science and your nights bathed in neon. Do the two ever talk to each other? Does the precision of your scientific work influence the way you build these glowing, imaginative worlds?

Chronist: They are two faces of the same coin. My field of specialization is plasma discharges, which means my reactors are essentially neon lights with buttons to control power, gas composition, and other parameters. My banner is a picture of one of these reactors, so you will see exactly what I mean. I remember seeing plasma for the first time about ten years ago and thinking it was the coolest thing in the world. It still feels almost magical, and no matter how used we are, the first time a plasma turns on, everyone in the lab gets excited. One day I thought that maybe I could make art that used bright and glowing colors to emulate this feeling, and that is how Chronist was born.

Apart from the origin, science and art also share their methodology. In both fields I am constantly experimenting, trying new approaches, abandoning others, reading and learning from what people did before, or coding in Python. Above all, I am always trying to improve. These similarities are why I describe myself as someone who makes neon stuff, because it is simply what I do. The only difference is that I do not yet make physical art, but I have big plans for the near future.

"I like to play with the perspective of time, using something that connects both the world that has been and the one that will come, and creating the emotions that arise from that mix"

TGJ: Your neon aesthetic feels both futuristic and nostalgic, like it’s pulling from physics, cyberpunk culture, and something deeply emotional. What draws you so strongly to that specific glow?

Chronist: Something I noticed about neon is its ability to feel both futuristic and nostalgic at the same time. That is also where my pseudonym came from: Chronos, from the Greek personification of time, combined with the suffix ist, meaning someone who makes it. I do not intend to make time, but I like to play with the perspective of time, using something that connects both the world that has been and the one that will come, and creating the emotions that arise from that mix.

"Despite all distractions, we are still here, we are present, and we are still feeling"

This is why these worlds often collide in an emotional way. If neon brings intensity, too much emphasis on the past can evoke nostalgia but also sadness, and too much emphasis on the future can bring hope but also anxiety. Art began as a way for me to cope with the negative side of thinking too much about the past and the future. So the emotions I imprint on my work in bright colors are my way of saying that despite all distractions, we are still here, we are present, and we are still feeling.

TGJ: Your work often feels like it has its own internal circuitry: pulsing, radiant, alive. When you’re creating, what’s the spark? A feeling? A color? A scientific idea reframed as art?

Chronist: It usually starts with something I see. It can be a story, a piece of news, another artwork, an advertisement, or something I am experiencing, like feeling overwhelmed, tired, motivated, or simply happy.

After I find the main idea, I think about which scientific phenomenon connected to plasma fits that feeling best. For example, one day I wanted to express the sensation of being at ease even while facing many problems. I created a statue that appears to be dancing while lightning strikes around her and called it Arc. The name refers to the movement of dancing but also to electric arcs, which are violent and full of energy.

Another time I represented the opposite feeling, the moment when someone freezes in front of adversity. I added electricity-like streamers that appear to choke the subject while he remains still. I called it Static, representing inaction but also static electricity, which comes from movement and touch, a kind of cure for being static. This is usually how I shape ideas so that they keep one foot in science and one foot in art.

TGJ: On Farcaster, your work has become instantly recognizable, almost like a signature wavelength. How has building in public — and building with community — shaped your creative direction?

Chronist: This is something I have been thinking about a lot. When I was defining my aesthetics and the ethos of my art, I realized that the current state of social media does not digest complexity very well. It does not mean that art must be simple, but compromises help. I learned quickly that I can either make bright and heavily saturated visuals or add many details. If I do both, the result becomes heavy and distracting. Because I am committed to this color scheme, I prefer not to rely too much on shading, complexity, or an excess of elements.

On a crowded feed, bright colors stand out immediately, so it may be a curse but it is also a blessing. I imagine that people on Farcaster can quickly recognize when something of mine appears on their timeline. Building with a community reinforces this even more. Sometimes I try to make something a bit less neon and I immediately get comments like “Yes, but now make it neon” hahaha it makes me happy every time. I also love when someone posts a photo or tags me in something with neon and says “Chronist will like this.” Yes, I always do, and I value immensely everyone who takes time to interact with me and my art, because they are also part of what I create.

TGJ: Your neon universe is bold, electric, unmistakably you. But when you step away from the canvas and the chain, what actually recharges you? What keeps the spark alive behind the scenes?

Chronist: First of all, traveling. I was born and raised on the coast of Brazil, which means I was as far from another country as Paris is far from Istanbul (literally), so I constantly wondered what lay beyond the sea. Six years ago I moved to Europe, and since then I have travelled through most of it, trying new food, discovering new history, and of course finding new artistic inspiration.

Also, I am a foodie, and besides trying new dishes, I enjoy making them. I like taking inspiration from different cultures and mixing them into fusion dishes that only my girlfriend and I get to try hahaha. Who else would serve me Romanian mamaliga with Brazilian stroganoff, or Andalusian chickpeas with spinach but seasoned with Indian spices? I had to do it myself, and both were incredible. Cooking is another form of experimentation for me, and I have a lot of fun with it.

Of course this means I need to stay active so that I can eat more. And even though I go to the gym, I hate every second there, so I prefer to bike to work and play padel once or twice a week with friends. In the end, the secret is staying nourished, active, and inspired.

Connect with Chronist on Farcaster 🔹X 🔹Rodeo 🔹Mint Club 🔹 Objkt 🔹Zora 🔹 Foundation

Read more about the Gratitude Economy and $TYSM🙏

It's not just a community: it's a feeling.

• The feeling of arriving home after a long day, opening the door, and hearing, “We were waiting for you.”

• The feeling of knowing you can be yourself.

• The feeling of sharing what moves you, what inspires you, what hurts you, what makes you laugh. And discovering that on the other side, there's someone who understands.

I always tried to discover the person behind the screen, behind the codes and avatars. And at TYSM, I found people who live the same way: open, curious, grateful. People who don't just post: they feel, receive, and support each other.

It's strange to say this about a digital project, but it's true: TYSM feels like home.

Because here, connections aren't forced; they're born. Gratitude isn't protocol; it's a bridge. And every interaction, however simple it may seem, has something of an encounter about it.

If you've ever doubted whether it's worthwhile to be grateful, to share, or to say "this made me feel good," I hope you can experience what I experienced here: that spark that reminds you that you're not alone, that there are others looking at the world with the same emotion, and that there's always a place you can return to.

I found it.

And it's called TYSM.

Do you like to create? TYSM is for you. Do you just come to look around? You're welcome too. Are you one of those people who appreciate everything that moves them? Perfect, your gesture matters here. Are you coming back after some time? Welcome back, nothing has changed: gratitude is still the base.

TYSM works because it doesn't demand. It doesn't ask for explanations, it doesn't question you, it doesn't compare you. It simply connects you: a photo, a drawing, a painting, a phrase, a meme…

Everything can become a spark ✨.

And every spark creates a bridge between two people who, otherwise, would never have met. That's what makes the project special:

— Newcomers can find a welcoming space.

— Long-time members can find a reason to stay.

— Creators can discover that their work has a real impact.

— Shy people can express themselves without speaking.

— Curious people fall into a loop of beauty, humor, and humanity.

TYSM is simple, but it's not small. It's a network where gratitude circulates like an emotional currency. Every time you give TYSM, something shifts. Every time you receive TYSM, something touches you. And that feeling… it's addictive.

That's why I want to say it clearly: TYSM is for everyone.

For you who are watching from the outside, for you who already know the way, and for you who believe that the web3 can still be a place where you feel seen.

If you want to join, there's no password. You just have to express gratitude for something that made you feel—even for a second—more human. 🫂🙏

The image of the two pills stems from this idea. Because, deep down, every time we open our apps, we face a choice: Do we continue down the path we already know or try a different way of connecting?

That's where TYSM comes in. Not as an alternative that "competes" with what already exists, but as a change of focus. A small but significant detour.

TYSM introduces something that seems simple, almost trivial: pausing for a second to acknowledge what someone else has done. That gesture—that second of genuine attention—completely alters the dynamic. Not because it revolutionizes technology, but because it modifies the underlying human interaction.

While the default pushes us to consume content like someone staring out the window of a moving car, TYSM proposes slowing down and truly observing. It rescues intention. It revalues ​​the contribution of others. It transforms an automatic journey into a more conscious one.

The image symbolizes it well: one hand offers the familiar. The other, something that opens a different way of being. The difference isn't in the aesthetics of the pills, but in what they represent.

The default maintains the structure we already understand. TYSM introduces a nuance that, although small, changes the experience: it makes you a participant, not just a spectator.

And in an environment where everything accelerates, where every gesture seems to matter less and less, that nuance begins to matter much more than it appears.

That's why this image isn't just a visual game inspired by The Matrix: it's an invitation to rethink how we want to participate in the spaces we inhabit every day.

Because, ultimately, the way we choose to interact determines the quality of what we build together. 🫂🙏

That's why TYSM resonated with me differently. Because it's not about fighting an algorithm or gathering hearts that mean nothing. TYSM is something else. It's someone on the other side saying, "Hey, what you do is beautiful, thank you for sharing it." And when you receive that, even just once, it changes you inside.

It's essential to know that gratitude sustains the creator. It embraces them. It lifts them up when they're about to give up. It recognizes talent and gives it value.

I don't see TYSM as a fad, a gimmick, or just another project. TYSM is a space where sensitivity matters, where the work isn't lost, where every gesture counts. And the most beautiful thing is that we can all express gratitude and receive it. Without permission. Without titles. Without having to prove anything.

That's why I think more artists should know about it. Because no one should feel alone when they create. Because every work deserves to find an honest gaze. Because sometimes a simple "thank you" is enough to reignite that spark, which, without recognition, sometimes goes out.

If you've ever felt that your art didn't matter, that no one noticed it, that you were talking into the void… TYSM can give you back something money can't buy: the feeling of being seen. And when someone truly sees you, you breathe differently again.

How do I know all this? Well, it's simple: my father was always an exceptional artist. Because of him, I know that gratitude isn't a gesture: it's companionship.

TYSM has the potential to support every artist, photographer, musician, actor, and ultimately, any creator. And me? I'm happy to have discovered it.

If you’ve ever scrolled past one of her images — a pair of weathered, hardworking hands, a quiet street glowing under night lights, a moment of everyday life tenderness — you know her work isn’t loud. It doesn’t shout. It invites you in.

Mili’s path into photography wasn’t a dramatic lightning-bolt moment — it was a gentle unfolding. A Sony digi-cam for nights out, a spark of curiosity while styling a product shoot, and that lingering what if that never quite left. But what really shaped her eye is her heart: a deep empathy, a love of people, and a fascination with the quiet stories we carry within.

Her Working Hands series (1 & 2) is a perfect example — an ode to the makers, the fixers, the carriers, the unseen. Sparked by a moment holding her mother’s hand, it’s a body of work rooted in love, recognition, and reverence.

And then there’s her nighttime photography. Dreamy, cinematic, whispered. The world slows down, shadows swell, and light becomes emotional. Her night photos don’t show places, they show feelings.

Onchain, she’s part of the Gratitude Economy — the $TYSM movement — where appreciation isn’t an afterthought but a creative force. To her, saying “thank you” isn’t small. It’s alchemical. It shifts mood, energy, connection, and maybe even the world itself.

This conversation is full of heart. The soft kind, the real kind. About empathy, craft, light, and love. Enjoy! 🙏

TGJ: Thinking back to when you first grabbed a camera, what was that moment like? Were you instantly hooked, cautiously curious, or more like, ‘Hmm… let’s see what happens if I press this button’?

Mili: The first camera I ever owned was a little Sony digi-cam & honestly, its main purpose was to document my legendary nights out 😂✨

My first real brush with photography though, happened while I was styling a product shoot. (Yes, I’m actually a photography stylist by profession) I picked up the camera more playfully than seriously very much in my “you never know” era.

Lucky for me, my partner’s a photographer, so I had my own personal tutor on standby 24/7 at absolutely zero cost.

"I don't just take photos, I feel them"

TGJ: Your photos always feel very grounded and close to real life. Are there parts of your personal history that have shaped the way you notice things — the way you look at people, work, and quiet moments?

Mili: I’ve always been that curious kid who noticed everything & asked too many questions. My parents encouraged it — they’d tell me all these quotes about knowledge that I honestly don’t remember 😂 but the message stuck.

I just love people and their stories.

Those who know me know I’m a bit of an empath and wear my emotions on my sleeve & I guess all of that shows up in my photos - I don’t just take them, I feel them.

TGJ: Your Working Hands series is so full of character — welders, mechanics, carpenters, fishmongers, spice traders, seamsters, barbers… all of these hands create beauty and value quietly, often without recognition. They also tell stories. What first made you look at someone’s hands and think, “Wait — this is where the real story is”?

Mili: Oh boy, this one always gets me. It started with my mom. I was holding her hand one day and noticed how rough and wrinkled it had become. I started suggesting creams, and she just smiled and said, “Mili, these are working hands.” That line hit me deep. In that moment, I thought of all the unseen hands around us — the ones that build, create, and carry so much without ever being noticed. It came from love, from gratitude, and from wanting to give those hands the recognition they’ve quietly earned every single day. This is where the story began.

TGJ: Your night photography while traveling feels almost like stepping into someone else’s dream. What’s the most surprising thing you’ve discovered about a place when photographing it at night — a detail, a feeling, or a moment that wouldn’t have been there in daylight?

Mili: It’s magic. It’s mysterious. Night photography captures what daylight simply can’t. The world slows down, sounds fade, and light starts to behave differently - softer, moodier, a little secretive. There’s a certain glow around a subject, a reflection in a glass window, or that quiet feeling that something’s hiding in the corners - that’s what pulls me in. It’s a challenge, but that’s part of the thrill.

When I shot the Eiffel Tower as she lit up, it honestly felt otherworldly, like an out-of-body moment. Just me, the light, and this unexplainable connection that words can’t quite touch.

"Night photography captures what daylight simply can’t"

TGJ: You’re part of the Gratitude Economy — the $TYSM  culture of saying thank you loudly and often. How has giving and receiving gratitude online (and onchain) influenced your creative mood? And do you feel these sparks of appreciation could actually shake up the way we connect as humans?

Mili: Being part of the Gratitude Economy just feels right . It’s as simple as that. There’s real magic in a heartfelt TYSM.

When someone appreciates my work, it lifts me instantly. But honestly, giving gratitude feels just as good or even better.  It softens you, shifts your energy, & somehow makes everything flow better. It reminds me that art or any kind of creation isn’t a one-way street. It’s connection. It’s energy.

And yeah, I truly think these little sparks of gratitude can change things. If people hyped each other up online as easily as they drop opinions, we might just fix the internet one “thank you” at a time .

"Art or any kind of creation isn’t a one-way street. It’s connection. It’s energy."

I’ve always believed in @nomadicframe someone I genuinely trust, admire, & look up to 💫 Grateful beyond words that he brought me onboard $TYSM  🙏

It’s such a joy to be part of something built on good energy & gratitude. & huge love to @jeyloo.eth  and @buckyball  - their kindness, quick support, and positive vibes make everything feel even more special 💖

Connect with Milibooo on Farcaster 🔹 X 🔹 Foundation 🔹 Exchange Art 🔹 OpenSea

Read more about the Gratitude Economy and $TYSM🙏

The tangible proof of this power is the Grat Pack. This growing collective is defined not by abstract value, but by the overwhelming strength of their conviction. They are the Guardians of Gratitude, the human architects who chose to build a thriving reality where every good intention matters. Their commitment provides the stability, the warmth, and the genuine spirit that allows this economy to scale. They stand as allies for the underdog, leading with heart where others overlook.

The Bond: A Shared Pact

To stand with the Grat Pack is to accept the highest honor: the promise that your heart's effort will never be wasted. This community’s quiet pact is defined by four profound intentions that structure their entire existence and secure their collective future.

They are the builders and expanders. They realize their greatest wealth is the community they share, actively planting seeds of advocacy and effort. They choose to level up, together, bringing new life and commitment into their shared world.

They are the perpetual current. They commit their resources, then use those rewards not to accumulate, but to continuously tip others. This simple act keeps the energy of gratitude circulating, making their system resilient and alive for everyone.

Their deepest truth is the feeling of absolute belonging, the joy of seeing others and appreciating them. This light they radiate is the essence of their strength, a warmth that comes right back to them, because every thank you becomes energy and every gesture strengthens the whole.

They are the standard. They lead with an authentic heart, going the extra mile to support their Pack, helping those in need, and selflessly sharing the mission. They are living proof that appreciation is the ultimate power.

The Truth of Community

The magic of the $TYSM ecosystem lies in this profound alignment. The consistent actions of the Grat Pack, the choice to share a positive vision, the simple act of lifting others up to create a self-reinforcing cycle of communal joy. The Pack is redefining what community looks like: a decentralized force built on appreciation, not competition, fostering a profoundly positive digital culture.

The Grat Pack is the answer for anyone who has felt that their best efforts went unnoticed. This movement is growing every day because people are longing for a place where their kindness is the very foundation of their impact.

Embrace the joy of gratitude. Live the promise.

$TYSM. Pack Strong. 🙏

In a world built on speculation and noise, $TYSM (Thank You So Much) measures something deeper, gratitude.

Not hype, not greed, gratitude.

It’s the quiet force that keeps people creating, helping, and showing up. Most tokens chase trends, $TYSM captures emotion. It turns appreciation into proof you can hold. When you thank someone with $TYSM, that moment doesn’t fade into a feed. It lives on-chain, permanent, visible, and real.

Because appreciation isn’t soft, it’s strength in motion.

The Core Mechanic, Where Feeling Becomes Flow

Here’s how the Gratitude Engine runs, step by step:

• Buy: Pick up $TYSM on your favorite Base-compatible exchange. You’re not buying a token, you’re entering an economy built on emotion.

• Stake: Lock your $TYSM on Streme.fun. Your tokens begin streaming rewards back to you every second through Superfluid, proof that patience pays.

• Stream: Watch those rewards flow directly into your wallet. Transparent. Continuous. Alive.

• Tip: Send $TYSM to a creator, friend, or stranger who made your day better. Every thank you becomes a new data point of value and visibility.

• Repeat: Gratitude shared becomes gratitude multiplied, and the cycle strengthens with every act.

Each move adds real weight to the ecosystem. Supply locks tighten through staking, circulation widens through tipping, and awareness grows through sharing. Every action leaves a measurable imprint on the token’s health and price stability.

The Gratitude Flywheel

• You buy → liquidity rises.

• You stake → supply locks.

• You tip → new wallets join.

• You share → visibility spreads.

Momentum compounds. Emotion becomes infrastructure. The Gratitude Flywheel never stops because its fuel, gratitude, never runs out.

Where others burn out chasing speculation, $TYSM builds long-term value through belief, participation, and reciprocity. This is how an emotional currency becomes an economic engine.

The Mini App, Simplicity with Soul

A great idea needs a home. The upcoming $TYSM Mini App brings everything together, staking, tipping, streaming, daily check-ins, and the Gratitude Wheel, all in one elegant interface.

You open the app and see your balance glowing in real time. You check in, stake, or tip directly from the same screen. You share your action with one tap. The Gratitude Wheel adds a spark of play, mint a ticket, spin, and watch gratitude turn into possibility.

This isn’t gamification, it’s emotional design, making generosity feel effortless and rewarding. The Mini App is built to make gratitude flow.

Trust That’s Visible

Trust isn’t promised, it’s proven.

$TYSM launched through Streme with no private allocations, no mega wallets, no hidden control. Supply is public, staking rewards are visible, and every transaction can be verified.

It’s already recognized across the ecosystem, CoinGecko, GeckoTerminal, Dexscreener, and even Coinbase. Transparency builds belief. Belief builds value.

When you can see every movement of gratitude, you don’t just hold a token, you hold trust itself.

Why Gratitude Belongs On-Chain

Every social network runs on recognition, yet likes vanish and comments fade. $TYSM gives recognition permanence. A tip is a lasting thank you that says, I see you. I value this.

That emotional proof changes behavior. People who feel valued create more, help more, stay longer. Gratitude deepens commitment, commitment drives consistency, consistency builds ecosystems.

Crypto brought freedom. $TYSM brings feeling. It makes the digital economy human again, measurable, meaningful, alive.

Likes fade. Tokens stay.

The Vision, The Gratitude Economy Is Loading

The Gratitude Economy isn’t coming, it’s loading.

Every stake, every tip, every share expands the same circle of value. Generosity isn’t a drain, it’s a growth strategy. When more people give, the token’s distribution broadens, engagement spikes, and holders become advocates.

That’s the hidden alpha, a self-reinforcing loop where kindness drives metrics. $TYSM transforms appreciation into action, action into data, and data into value.

The result is a network that doesn’t depend on hype to rise, it depends on humanity.

Gratitude shared. Gratitude multiplied.

Why It Matters Now

Markets move up and down, but conviction compounds.

While others chase trends, we’re building the only asset that never loses value, gratitude itself.

Every $TYSM tipped, staked, or streamed increases participation, liquidity, and trust. The more you give, the more resilient the token becomes. This is not a project built to survive the next bull run, it’s built to outlast them all.

Because when emotion meets proof, culture becomes currency.

The Invitation

If you’ve ever said “thank you” and wished it could mean more, it now can.

Join the movement.

Buy. Stake. Tip. Share.

Become part of the first economy powered by appreciation, not speculation.

The future of value starts where gratitude lives.

💙 $TYSM, where belief turns to proof, and proof becomes power. ⚡🙏