Could You Survive as a Blogger?
August 14th, 2026
I read a factoid online in the last ten years that told me “the things you enjoy the most as a teenager will persist as interests throughout your entire life.” I have no idea if this is scientifically quantifiable or not, but my first thought was “Well fuck, I guess Rainbow Dash using a Portal gun is the peak of my aesthetic interests.”
In some ways it’s true, though: there are a lot of artists and musicians I found in my teens that would go on to inform my taste in everything later down the line. Most often, these were things I found through coincidence, crawling the web or scrounging through blogs on Tumblr. Even on social media platforms, there was still a friction of actually having something of interest to post, which lead to people seeking interests outside of the platform to bring back to their blogs.
I was (and still am) a huge fan of a lot of Japanese media, primarily manga and indie music. I studied Japanese as a hobby from 14~17, and nowadays when people ask how much of the language I know, I say “just enough to buy CDs online.” Most of the things that I’m the most attached to still are works by artists that I saw somewhere online, and immediately tried to seek out any and all information about them. The mystery of trying to glean information from the Japanese web (which is a lot more private, in addition to being in Japanese) was so frustrating and thrilling that I would come back to it day after day. I learned how to torrent things (frequently from other non-English language sites) to listen to Group_Inou when their music was still only available on CDs.
My favorite Youtuber, Rian Phin, once posed this question: Could you survive as a blogger? Which is to say, in an era where all aspects of taste can be gleaned from surfing the algorithm, could you form a coherent aesthetic taste or identity with only your own interests and research ability to work with?
I’ve been interested in aesthetic + affective experiences with art recently because I’ve actually been pretty depressed for the last month. I’m taking a mood stabilizer, so I’m saved from the depths of despair, but I still struggle with other symptoms like fatigue and anhedonia. It’s so hard to try when nothing feels good. Even with good experiences and people I like, I still feel like a dim bulb once the party’s over. Basically, it sucks, I don’t recommend it.
Like any BFA-haver, I’m really pretentious and burdened about art. I am always over-thinking the thematic content and technical execution of whatever I make, and it prevents me from even getting started a lot of the time. I feel sad and disappointed when I think about how drawing used to be a coping mechanism for me to feel better about myself, but my relationship with it has deteriorated a lot over time.
When I’m in my head, unable to feel anything good, and without hope for the future, the one thing that sparks something in me is spending time with the work of artists whom I’ve been a fan of since my teen years. It takes me back to the point where I was just developing a sense of self, but before I could even describe what that was. I know I love it with all my heart, but I still don’t know why.
So, here are a few of my favorite things, that I am both organizing for my own aesthetic pleasure and your interest:
Tsuchika Nishimura
I wanted to write something in response to that Rian Phin video for a while, but what actually made me want to sit down and make this post was purchasing a copy of Tsuchika Nishimura’s art book this week. It’s yet to arrive, but I’ll be wearing out the spine soon enough.
Cover for the manga Sayonara Minasan by Tsuchika Nishimura
I can’t remember where I saw Nishimura’s artwork for the first time. It was probably a Tumblr post with minimal context that I had to follow to the ends of the earth to find anything else. I remember back when Instagram was still fun, following them and feeling so enchanted by every new illustration posted. I spend a lot of time copying their visual style while I was in high school, but can you blame me? It’s so striking, affective, and unlike anything else. A totally unique fusion of influences from Tezuka and Shigeru Mizuki to Tove Jansson. All the parts of a picture book that are actually a little too weird and scary for you to understand as a young kid.
The part of Wisconsin I grew up in had huge, pastoral, rolling hills separating every town outside of the capital city. I did a lot of night driving back then, and observed the light pollution from the city, the research greenhouse, and the monolithic radio towers that crept over the hills. I would emulate Nishimura’s style of dense crosshatching to capture the queasy isolation I felt every day of my life there, relating more to the earth and the sky than the people around me.
The Concierge at the Hokkyoku Department Store, available here.
For a long time, none of Nishimura’s work was easily available in the US. I was (and still am) desperate to get my hands on a copy of their manga Sayonara Minasan, but could only find it listed on an online french retailer. Luckily for me, their manga The Concierge at the Hokkyoku Department Store was translated and distributed by Seven Seas, and I picked up both volumes the week they came out.
Cuushe and Yoko Kuno
I discovered both of these artists simultaneously, when the music video for Airy Me was going around my Tumblr circles back in the day. Cuushe is a dream pop artist whose work has actually received a fair amount of attention from stateside indie music press. Kuno is a visual artist and animator, and has notably worked on the anime series Land of the Lustrous. She created the video for Airy Me as thesis work for her Master’s degree, and since then she has created most of the visual art for Cuushe’s albums. I could not think of a better pairing. Each of their work is clearly drawing from a similar world of fantasy, and combining the two emphasizes the latent, fuzzy emotions in each.
In 2018, I bought myself a copy of Kuno’s book, Amagi Yuiko no Tsuno to Ai (The Horns and Love of Yuiko Amagi). It’s a collection of manga short stories, each showing off her distinct visual style and storytelling interests. I haven’t been much able to parse the book’s contents, but it’s in line with the thematic interests found in her other works. What I really enjoy about Kuno’s work is the strange warmth and comfort of mysterious and somewhat unsettling images. She has paintings that border on the erotic, but stop at just expressing something sad and pathetic instead. There’s a sense of sensuality undercut by childishness and unreality; I feel like I’m being prompted to play make-believe.
Also in 2018, I think I listened to Cuushe’s Red Rocket Telepathy nearly a hundred times over. That spring, I was in a drawing class in college where we would stand for hours in a dark room, spotlight on figures or still life installations, drawing with charcoal. Her music spanned the gap between the sublime fantasy of art school and the seasonal mood-disorderedness I was experiencing that kept me from enjoying it. I still get into periods of listening to her music on repeat every year.
Paul Peng
Paul Peng, Tomorrow Will Be Better...!, 9"x12", paper, ink, crayon. 2017.
My friend Claire, the first trans furry I met in my adult life, showed me Paul’s work one morning while we sat in the dining hall of our college. It was that “what is this/why does it feel like this” response I got from all the works listed above, but shown to me by a close friend rather than an anonymous blogger. Flash forward nearly ten years, Paul and I are neighbors, and also love each other and have sex and stuff. Life imitates art.
For as long as I’ve been really consciously pursuing my interest in drawing and comics, I’ve been aware of a kind of masculinist streak in the art form: fetishization of technical skill, exalting masters of the craft, a total lack of affective or libidinal interest in one’s own work. Kind of like “Fuck yeah science!” but it’s fuck yeah comics. I also hate comics guys (yes indie comics guys too, you guys are actually more fucking annoying) and I will always go on the record saying that. BUT I DIGRESS… [exhasperated sigh]
Paul’s early drawings make me remember, in the Lynda Barry sense, what I love about drawing. The feeling of dripping your imagination onto pages and pages of notes because it’s too much to keep inside. The depth and breadth of unnameable feelings that you just can’t keep your hand from exposing. All of the interests, views, and feelings that don’t fully add up or make sense, but make you who you are. It’s not about being legible, perfect, or proving you’re the best; this is eschewing that circus altogether and making drawings that just feel good.