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The artist

Botros Saied

Botrehan · multi-disciplinary artist, Egypt

Over the past 10 years, Botros Saied has pursued a diverse range of artistic crafts, dedicating himself to their discipline alongside an elite career in global operations. His visual storytelling began in street photography—capturing urban landscapes and frozen human moments—before expanding into Arabic poetry, short stories, and spoken word. On Tezos, operating as Botrehan, he treats minting as a daily practice where titles serve as the poems from which images grow, earning feature recognition in Art D'Égypte from 2021 onward.

Over three years of daily generative AI practice, he has engineered over one million Midjourney assets across 70+ completed projects, developing high-speed visual curation and advanced prompt mastery. Moving fluently between abstract painting, photography, and figurative surrealism, he translates private imagination into high-impact visual concepts at scale.

Botros Saied · Botrehan

Collection 01

Sur-Real-Pain-T-h-ing Vol. 001

I took it as a daily personal challenge to make just one perfect artwork about something I saw in my imagination mirror in a fleeting moment in a dream somewhere.

The first volume is a long poem of interiors and bodies: pink flesh, studio rooms, birth and farewell, the devil with no god, a woman looking up as if the sky had spoken.

Collection

https://objkt.com/collections/KT1B346LLP9Mgymp4xfRG7GSCFGdCw6w4NrD

Botros Saied · Botrehan

At the center of my heart, There is a garden, I am originally a rare flowers collector that has a 9-to-5 job to support the family

I can not see well anymore, but I know exactly how the color purple tastes and without touching, it knows me, old friends

My backbone is made of rare flowers, When I tried to stand up years ago, The universe was filled with the unique Aroma coming out of the grand breaking, of my backbone, of course

I went to a great doctor who was dead already when we met, all he could say about my pain was that I only needed a new religion to emerge to help cure me one day, and that was a rare event

I saw the flowers come alive, I swear, I saw life, nobody else can say or claim, I am the one who can, Visit me some other time when you are free, just to see, and witness the miracle, I swear

When you look back, you laugh at your big problems, so you should laugh at them from now on, Stand up, fight, play, eat, sleep, wake up, fight, and laugh a lot

Collection 02

Sur-Real-Pain-T-h-ing Vol. 002

I took it as a daily personal challenge to make just one perfect artwork about something I saw in my imagination mirror in a fleeting moment in a dream somewhere.

The second volume turns the same discipline inward: time that no one can catch, the vanity of being named an artist, a body full of other faces, a man shaving in a cracked mirror.

Collection

https://objkt.com/collections/KT1SKivzD7EUPcGXEqyGs9HiG3VCwGTVLBmF

Botros Saied · Botrehan

Hold my love, Hold me, Love, Hold my core, Time is a thief, I do not trust the places, I miss the grief, Holding might leave many traces, Hold in your heart, Hold and stay still, It will all be brief

Interpret whatever you want to interpret as you wish to interpret it, And no one will prevent you from doing so, For this is your life and whatever you want to be or happen will be and happen

Sometimes, Revenge is a word, Sometimes it is a moment of silence, Revenge can also be in the form of a person, It can be a day we get to spend together, It can be many things, It can not be just IT

With people I hate myself and love people, and with myself I hate people and love myself, And I kept switching between being alone and being with people to the point I do not know anymore where I am

I am nothing but a skeptical observer, and as long as I don't like it, writing is my secret refuge, As long as people outside and everywhere are crazy, I will write so that I won't be crazy like them

But who needs to be called an artist by these people, Who truly needs the world to recognize them, and how can they be an artist if they truly need it, You be an artist without knowing about it

Collection 03

God's Favourite Hobby

Abstract AI experiments, exploring how God sometimes gazes upon the earth to form its surfaces beautifully, as a hobby that is unattainable for the men and women of this very earth.

Coded titles — ACS 650, EWC 437, LBC 682 — like catalog numbers for weather, mineral, and skin. Close looking until landscape becomes cloth, and cloth becomes a living cell.

Collection

https://objkt.com/collections/KT1XQZTtqPHgnqGFQ4iTFfvaYgPSABe4HNnn

Botros Saied · Botrehan

Collection 04

On the way to a sweet dream

On the way to a sweet dream, you saw flowers you had never seen before. You wake up. You think you remember them, or you seem.

Here is what I could steal, from your dream, to show people just how it feels.

Collection

https://objkt.com/collections/KT1VDK1SRQ1oRf2txM7y7p4r65VFehLqqAKg

Botros Saied · Botrehan

From the Sur-Real volumes

Titles as poems

A farewell is inevitable, after many days or years, it will happen, whether you ate your plums or not.
Happy birthday to the new world within. Happy birthday to every new second about to arrive.
Time races on, and no one can catch it. Everyone tries, and everyone fails. Time is the strongest runner in history.
Leave me alone and don't ask me, because I'm already questioning myself. Fragments of memories from a past I lived.
We must return everything to its origin, so that all origins become lost in one another, and we may rediscover and love our chaos.
The human face is the most private part of the entire body.
I have an urgent desire to sleep naked on the bare ground. What a nostalgic desire it is.

I found myself saying it, I hate you, baby. She left the place without a word. She once was my little angel.
The devil cannot ever dream of a better life, for he has no god, no rules, no life, and no friends. The devil is lonely.
But who needs to be called an artist by these people. You be an artist without knowing about it.
Life is ultimately just a series of images. Everything takes its time, so don't rush it.
If the son becomes exactly like his father, who is to be blamed. I guess no one. That's only life.
Writing must continue, driven and propelled constantly from within.
Childrn of the world, let's unite, let's not grow up. Heaven is now.

Botros Saied · Botrehan

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Where the work lives

Botros Saied · Botrehan

Botros Saied

Line by line,
by my art.

On the way to a sweet dream, you saw flowers you had never seen before. You wake up. You think you remember them, or you seem.