Right now on YouTube, there are 1.7 million people subscribed to an entity who has never revealed their face or voice. Clad head to toe in a thin, black body suit, this person speaks to their audience in a cutesy, high-pitched, distorted sound. Their face: a chunky, starch white mask with two small holes for the eyes, one small hole for the mouth, and a pointed mound for the nose. This is Uketsu, a multimedia storyteller versed in genres of horror and psychological thrill, who uses video, photos, and literature to immerse his audiences into spine-chilling universes.

Strange Pictures, out in the US in January 2025 from HarperVia, is Uketsu’s forthcoming suspenser. In the novel, sinister mysteries unfold through a sequence of what seem to be unsuspecting images, their significance turned threatening as Uketsu illuminates their details with the accompanying literature. Here, the boundaries between detective and reader, between fiction and reality, begin to blur: university students discover a blog recounting a woman’s pregnancy, a child draws a haunted photo of his home, the victim of a murder sketches a picture in his final moments.

Based in Japan, Uketsu began on YouTube, his first video being uploaded six years ago. We will refer to Uketsu as “he” because sometimes he is “Mr. Uketsu” in his videos, and because Jim Rion, the translator of Uketsu’s Strange Pictures, writes that “it seems they’re a he, or at least the agencies involved have confirmed that for international sales purposes.” His previous novel, The Strange House, is a manga series about a haunted floorplan, which was adapted into a 2024 film (in some regions, it’s called The Floor Plan) that landed in Japan’s top 10 box office films that year.

Aside from his videos and writings, Uketsu is a part of a digital creative collective in Japan called Omocoro, which began uploading in 2005. They publish writings, videos, comic strips, and food reviews. If Google Translate is correct, then Omocoro’s website states that it “does not publish anything that will help you in life or that has meaning. Please use it to kill time in your spare time and relax,” and that their writers are “timid, nervous, and powerless creatures who cannot even cleanly remove the price tags from products. Very occasionally, they will come down to the village to get wild grape juice from the drink bar, but please do not get too close and watch over them from a distance.”

Uketsu and his work is perhaps best described in the words of Mark Fisher, who wrote in his book The Weird and The Eerie: “... the weird is constituted by a presence—the presence of that which does not belong. In some cases...the weird is marked by an exorbitant presence, a teeming which exceeds our capacity to represent it. The eerie, by contrast, is constituted by a failure of absence or by a failure of presence. The sensation of the eerie occurs either when there is something present where there should be nothing, or if there is nothing present when there should be something.”

Uketsu, in what appears to be his first and only magazine interview, shares about his beginnings, his thoughts on fear, and storytelling.

What was the catalyst for Uketsu? Why did you begin publishing writings and drawings and posting short stories on YouTube, especially as an anonymous character?

At the time I started, I was working at a supermarket. I felt a bit embarrassed imagining my colleagues or customers thinking, ‘The person making creepy videos is also stocking the milk shelves.’ So I decided to hide my identity while pursuing my creative activities.

How did you start writing Strange Pictures? What does your creative process look like, and how do you keep your ideas organized and cohesive?

I was inspired by the existence of “drawing tests” in psychoanalysis, which involve analyzing the subconscious mind of the person who created the drawing. I found this concept intriguing and thought it would make for an interesting story if combined with elements of mystery and suspense.

First, I draw what I consider a ‘scary and eerie picture.’ Then, I create the story by imagining, ‘What kind of background would make this picture interesting?’To organize and unify my ideas into one cohesive story, I work in stages. Like creating rough sketches, blueprints, drafts, and final versions, I first design the overall structure and then refine the details.

Why do you think that humans are drawn to dark, scary stories?‍

Everyone, to some extent, carries anxieties about the future, daily life, and relationships. These fears often lack a clear form and are felt on a subconscious level. As a result, people may crave someone to clearly define and articulate these feelings for them— “The fear you’re experiencing looks like this, doesn’t it?” Dark, scary stories satisfy that craving. Through fictional horror stories, people want to confront and understand the “unknown fears” within themselves.

How do you think fear mutates across international boundaries?

‍I believe it becomes more essential or universal. For example, in Japan, there’s a tradition where households with young daughters display many dolls on March 3rd. Even today, this is widely practiced. Personally, I find the sight of rows of dolls unsettling. However, from a foreign perspective, the act of lining up numerous dolls on March 3rd might seem peculiar in itself. Because it’s part of one’s own culture, people might fail to recognize the intrinsic fear it holds.

What are the strengths and weaknesses of each medium— writing, pictures, video—when telling a story?

‍Text is the most effective medium for helping people understand a story, but it cannot be created without literary talent.

Art is the most effective medium for helping people imagine a story, but it cannot be created without artistic skill.

Video is the most effective medium for helping people experience a story, but it cannot be created without money.

Does it ever get lonely, that nobody knows who you are?

‍There’s an organization in Japan called “Omocoro,” and all its members know all of my personal information. Thanks to that, I don’t feel lonely.

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Written by Franchesca Baratta

Special thanks to Julia Smith