I was merely 9 years old when I first saw her. I had gotten a Nintendo DSi for Christmas, and after discovering that I could do more than just play “Kirby Super Star Ultra,” I fell into a rabbit hole of online content. You see, DSis came with a program called Flipnote Studio, an animation program that allows you to hand-draw sequential animations and input your own audio. You could even post them to the program’s built-in social media platform, Flipnote Hatena. Through Hatena, I discovered all sorts of new things as a child, from music to anime. What most permeated my experience on Hatena, though, was an unknown, twin-pigtailed anime character. I saw her everywhere, in eerie, dramatic animations or cutesy, joyful ones. Almost every time she was accompanied by robotic-sounding songs; I instantly became mesmerized by the sound — the voice of the singer was energetic and girlish but sounded automated, inhuman and always represented as a blue-haired anime girl. These were my first experiences with the iconic pop legend Hatsune Miku.
So who is, or what is, Hatsune Miku? She is, in essence, a mascot. Miku is a Vocaloid software, an installable voicebank with which you can add vocals to music. She is often called a “singing computer,” but she is by no means the first instance of this. The first “singing computer” was used in 1961 by the IBM 7094’s speech synthesizing technology — you may have heard this before in “2001: A Space Odyssey” (and if you want to hear Miku singing with the IBM, check this out). However, what differentiates Miku from your average speech synthesis programs is her personification. She was created by Crypton Future Media Inc., who had previously created Kaito and Meiko, but Miku’s release in 2007 marked the beginning of Crypton’s “Character Vocal Series,” which directly tied these anime personas to each voicebank. Miku’s cutesy anime look quickly gained popularity, particularly through MikuMikuDance, a fan-made 3D animation program created in 2008, which allowed users to make animations featuring the character.
Miku is a robotic singer that will never die; as long as Vocaloid exists, Miku can be used to make any sort of music and star in any music video. I’ve been listening to Vocaloid music since my Flipnote days, and I can say from experience that the breadth of Miku-based music is insane. I’ve listened to her used in metal songs, as well as modern pop takes; her voice was sampled in Ashnikko’s “Daisy 2.0.”
Besides her influence in music, she serves as an internet icon (here you can see her in all her holographic glory opening for Lady Gaga). I believe that a huge reason for this is her simple yet spectacular character design. At first glance, it may seem complex; her arm warmers are covered in techy buttons and switches, and she’s got those crazy square-shaped hair ties. Designer Kei Garou was given loose instruction when creating Miku, told only to “convey the image of a singing computer.” It’s very clear through her design that she is robotic and futuristic, demonstrating artistic complexity. However, all you need to see to recognize Miku are those big, greenish-blue pigtails. Fans across the world have picked up on this, creating a spin-off character called Shiteyanyo, who exists as a simplified Miku: a floating head with blue pigtails for legs. Her signature blue color has gained such popularity over the years that you can purchase blue, Miku-themed ramen.
What works so fantastically in her design is her complete lack of characterization; Miku does not have a set personality, giving any artist that chooses to depict her total freedom. She is a blank slate, akin to cereal mascots or sports team characters. She will always be directly related to the arts, whether it’s as simple as how someone chooses to illustrate her or what key she’ll sing in.
Because of these aspects, Miku’s influence on the online art community is huge — a tweet giving testament to this went viral earlier this month, stating, “its not your skill level, or how long youve been drawing, or having gone to art school that makes you an artist. what determines whether or not youre an artist is if youve drawn hatsune miku.” The replies to this tweet are filled with fan art of the Vocaloid, each stylistically different yet recognizable. Whether it was a traditional anime-esque style or a more Pixar-looking one, those blue-green twintails were an instant giveaway. One reply designated this artistic experience as paying the “Miku tax,” implying it as a rite of passage to artists growing up on the internet.
Fans across the world have created hundreds of interpretations of Miku over the years, altering her clothing and hairstyles to embody different aesthetics and concepts. A perfect example is “Snow Miku,” a variant of the character that arose in 2010 for Japan’s annual Sapporo Snow Festival. Snow Miku carries all of the original Miku’s signature traits, but she is given a wintery white hue. Silhouettes of snowflakes permeate her huge pigtails, and she sports a white scarf and gloves. The design and concept for Snow Miku quickly gained popularity within the fanbase — so much so that in 2012, it was decided that “Snow Miku” would be designed via annual online art competitions. Every year, fans eagerly vote for a new Snow Miku designed by fellow fans (you can see 2023’s now-closed vote here). Though loose themes are established — 2023’s centers clouds and skies — there is always diversity of interpretation within designs. It’s amazing to be able to see so many fan interpretations and even more incredible to see them praised by the creators of Miku themselves — each Snow Miku that wins gets her own official figure and minifigure, as well as a custom-composed song and animated music video. The small passion project of designing a wintery Miku has shifted into a huge internet phenomenon, filled with collaborative, fan-made love and creative passion. Artists love Miku because she can push their skills, can help them to make lovable designs while playing on recognizable traits that people across the world have grown to love.
Snow Miku isn’t the only recurring Miku design. Each year, we get a new design for Miku’s anniversary (this year’s is strawberry-themed) alongside figures and merchandise. We get a new design for the Super GT, Japan’s premier motorsport race, called “Racing Miku.” New, unique figures are made for “Sakura Miku” each year, too, a pink variant with a cherry blossom theme. These, of course, are only official products; there exist dozens of variants within fan communities, as well as special designs dropped at random by figure companies. My personal favorite as of late is Kotobukiya’s “My Little Pony” Miku figure, which combines Miku herself with a miniature, pony version happily alongside her. It’s particularly incredible how well big companies receive fanworks, allowing artists everywhere to feel like they’re a part of expanding Miku’s image.
Her popularity and design have had a huge impact on my own artistic growth; after seeing Miku for the first time on Flipnote, I tried to animate her often. She was one of the first characters that I consistently drew, and in this sense, I could track my progress as an artist through drawing her. I remember struggling to draw her hair as a kid, using a ruler to measure the shapes of the twintails. Now, after drawing Miku for so long, she feels like a friend. I don’t draw her the same way every time, but there’s a sort of muscle memory in depicting her — I know what her essence is, and I get to experiment with it. It’s so much fun to see how my peers online depict her, too. Miku brings people together, helps artists to challenge themselves; she’s a pop icon, but she’s also my best friend. Over time, she’s tended to embody a character of her own, despite, and perhaps because of, her lack of personality. She’s always smiling, she’s experimental in her fashion. She has lots of friends, her favorite vegetable is a leek. These traits aren’t set in stone, but it’s the image I have come to hold of Miku after looking at so many interpretations of her. She’s almost a real person at this point. I have come to know her quite well. It’s certainly odd to attribute some of my creative journey to a singing software mascot, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Daily Arts Writer Katelyn Sliwinski can be reached at ksliwi@umich.edu.