Hatsune Miku: How an Online Fandom Became Artists
- Sophie McMillan
- Aug 16
- 6 min read
The illustrious and iconic Yamaha synthesizer exists in a variety of forms - her image is freely disseminated, reworked and reproduced throughout online spaces and her fandoms, unconstrained by continents, cultures and language barriers. Her name is Hatsune Miku. Whether she is known purely for the technology through which she is created, or as her anime avatar, she exists through you, through code and through culture.
Hatsune Miku (tr. “first sound of the future”) is a Japanese Vocaloid software produced by Crypton Future Media in collaboration with Yamaha. At her core, she is a voice synthesis program that samples the Japanese voice actress, Saki Fujita. Users arrange these samples into words and produce a “voice,” which can then be freely manipulated into singing any song or saying anything they wish. The software’s moe-anime-styled mascot has turquoise twintails and an outfit that mimics aspects of the Yamaha DX7 synthesizer - its colour scheme, its preset buttons and sliders. When combined, Hatsune Miku comes to life.
Since her release, over 170,000 songs have been produced and shared online using her vocaloid technology, alongside countless artworks, ranging from simple sketches to animations and intricately designed figurines. Hatsune Miku’s creator, Crypton Future Media Inc., allows her to exist under a “sharealike license” - meaning anyone is free to produce whatever imagery they would like, free of legal restrictions. It is a radical decision which has shaped internet culture, one that was both far ahead of its time and emblematic of the freedom, generosity and excitement felt during the early days of Web 2.0. Miku exists completely devoid of a diegetic canon - all aspects of her are freely reworkable by any person online - each emotion, form and narrative is ever-shifting, and each equally canonical as the last - millions of people collectively contribute towards the figure of Miku, every day, without any skill or monetary barrier.
Our desires to create, share and provoke are often expressed in terms of a relationship between one individual and another - artist, audience, lovers. Miku, however, is the interconnected passion of thousands of strangers. She is an accessible surface that permits creativity without limits and an unlimited range of interwoven, global collaborations within communities online. The freedom that she affords users has flourished into a networked assemblage of fans and artists: a self generating work of art that constantly shifts, reaffirms, negotiates and rewrites itself, and has done since 2007. The lack of hierarchy within the online community, maintained by the refreshing absence of corporate intervention, as well as the fans’ legitimate ownership over a “canon”, has built a self-sustaining circuit; propelled, uninterrupted.
If a fan says “This is Hatsune Miku”, then they are correct. She can look however they like, she can sing however they like, she can act, walk, talk, however anyone would like but she will always be Hatsune Miku.
Miku expands infinitely beyond any structuralist interpretation of desire, evolving on little more than the distinctly human urge to create, explore and engage within a community; there is no control from within, no algorithm to follow, no decided limit. Fandom practices have always been tactics of the disempowered - those which do not find themselves represented within mainstream media are given access, within the fandom, to an open space and avatar on which they can build and project the most intimate parts of themselves. Hatsune Miku gives them this agency. As there is no canon, there is no contextual barrier to unique interpretations, nothing to prevent relatability or connection: anyone and everyone is allowed to choose and negotiate their own truths, untethered from real demographics or personal identities. She is a blank canvas to paint upon, a digital doll. Her intangibility provides a veil of safety for her fans and artists who can express themselves without fear - and so, Hatsune Miku becomes a unique vehicle for authenticity.
While each interpretation is clearly individual, all are Miku. A deep sense of familiarity is felt when the fandom, a collective, is constructed within a single structure, but most importantly, there is a sense of belonging. This is where the anti-hierarchical nature of Deleuze’s Body Without Organs is most tangible. Miku is best thought of as this, a form of assemblage. Deleuze and Guattari expand upon Šuvaković’s definition of the body - a paradoxical symptom of representation, presence, absence and existence - as additionally “inceptive, arousing, effectuating, producing or performing” and, most importantly, “between many potentialities.” Miku is a space for participation in a state of potentiality and, as new connections are created, boundaries between the fans, others and “Miku” become blurred: an intense and deeply moving transcendence from the self, rooted in a perpetual, active belonging in a self-rejuvenating community. Such flowing intensities are the continued sustenance of a Body Without Organs.
Miku, as an assemblage, possesses both poles of a singular continuum: on one side stasis, on the other, change. The lack of legal or narrative limits pushes creativity further than traditional text-based fan cultures. Change happens so freely and as constantly as the day she was released to the public. There are Mikus of all body types, all genders, all nationalities, all races - plenty of representations reach towards the posthuman and technological. There’s Mechanised-Skeleton Miku, Edo-Period-Party-Girl Miku, Geordie Miku, Cockney-Punk Miku, Palestinian Miku, Brazilian Miku, Mikus fat and thin, with curls and coils, with surgery scars and disability aids. You can hear her duet alongside the IBM 7094, the first computer programmed to sing in 1961. Ascribing narratives onto Miku can be done with ease, yet she retains in stasis, as any representation is always valid. If a fan says “This is Hatsune Miku”, then they are correct. She can look however they like, she can sing however they like, she can act, walk, talk, however anyone would like but she will always be Hatsune Miku.
The passionate fandom attending [Miku's] large concerts often describe an immediate connection with everyone in the room, a flow of sensation that surpasses language barriers.
Hatsune Miku concerts make the most of her as a Body Without Organs - a live performance that showcases music, lyrics, and choreography created by fans, for fans. These concerts are known for the crowd’s immersive dance moves and hypnotic waving of green glow sticks in perfect synchronisation. Over time, powerful call-and-response chants have developed. The passionate fandom attending these large concerts often describe an immediate connection with everyone in the room, a flow of sensation that surpasses language barriers. While it may seem absurd to some, those who have devoted hundreds of hours into contributing, sharing and consuming artwork within the community describe her concerts as one of the best experiences of their life. The intense, bodily participation with others in the community, paired with songs of their own creation and collaborations can be overwhelming. Everyone knows exactly when to cheer, how to cheer: everyone is in sync, and everyone performs together.
Hatsune Miku is comparable to that of a religion - many of her fans are open in discussing how Miku remains omnipresent in their lives, from figurines on their bookshelves, to tattoos. Many fans recognise Miku as present on the internet even before their active participation within the fandom - she is deeply ingrained within early internet culture, as long-running memes, iconic imagery and memorable songs remain in multiple overlapping fandoms to this day.
Participating in Miku's fandom is not simply to be a “fan of Miku”, but rather about fans being fans of each other. Freedom for human connection, even when under a veil of anonymity, naturally leads to spiritual growth. Miku and her fandom will continue to grow, almost indefinitely, alongside humanity. In the unlikely event that regulations around her usage change, it is almost impossible that the vast multiplicity of connections, representations and artworks could ever be censored or erased, the assemblage runs so deeply and widely across internet culture that it would be completely impossible to remove it. Many believe that as long as there is humanity, there will be Miku. Even after this, traces of her will remain.
Author
Sophie McMillan is a writer and journalist based in the North-East of England.
Editor
Caleb Carter is a co-founder/editor of The Big Ship.
