Zimbabwe

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​The Zimbabwe 100-trillion-dollar note has become the global shorthand for hyperinflation—a kind of visual punchline for hyperinflation. It’s the image everyone recognizes: a single piece of paper carrying a number so large it admits, openly, that money has failed. Macro economic influencers use it as banners in their social media profiles.  They’re a novelty item. “TRILLION”.  Of course, I burned one, perching it on a cardboard cross and watching it burn and fall like the yoke of a broken egg. 

 

But as I investigated, I became more interested denominations leading up to the surreal sine qua non, especially the Special Agro-Cheques Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe, under Governor Gideon Gono seen above. This is paper given to farmers for their harvest for which they could, in turn receive “real” hyper inflated money. This is the government supported 

 

You can also see that this money an expiration date, issued in May 20118 and redeemable until December 2008. In that year, prices were doubling every 24 hours. 

 

In practice, the agro-cheques were money. They were denominated in Zimbabwe dollars, used in everyday transactions, and printed with the full visual language of currency: portraits, seals, serial numbers, security threads. Yet legally, they occupied a liminal space—closer to IOUs than cash.  It also allowed the state to inject liquidity without admitting the extent of monetary breakdown.

 

Handling them now, years later, that instability is still present. Some are stained, some carry a faint, unexpected smell—tobacco, grain, storage dust—suggesting time spent in warehouses, pockets, circulation loops that were never meant to last. They’re soaked in sweat. Even in the small batch, I obtained for this project, the paper stock varies. The inks feel inconsistent.  Even when I glue them to the wooden blacks they feel unstable, life the giraffe wandering toward the grain elevator on the back could escape.  But all of that submits finally to the flames. 

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