Hollow’s Journal


Kanal geosi va tili: ko‘rsatilmagan, ko‘rsatilmagan
Toifa: ko‘rsatilmagan


Documenting art, creators, and digital culture I believe in. Supporting imagination, craft, and projects that deserve to exist.

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Kanal geosi va tili
ko‘rsatilmagan, ko‘rsatilmagan
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ko‘rsatilmagan
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Damn telegram intern rekt for sure


Pretty sure the telegram intern selling was a psyop.

At least I hope for his sake it was 😂


TONKOL TRADES dan repost
🚨TONKOL ALERT🚨

💰Hollow aped 324 $GRAM ($525) of $Yoda 💰

EQC7vuKEYLdC72YhUWt3AUVA-Oi66Q1DxTHXH7r6pXaV50j7










cat szn bros










Journal Entry — Early Characters

Lately I’ve been thinking about how some of the earliest versions of worlds don’t just appear as sketches or concept art, but as characters.

Simple, expressive characters that people start using long before anyone thinks of them as “important.”

Telegram stickers are an interesting example of this.

They’re not just images — they become part of how people communicate. Over time, certain characters stop being just drawings and start becoming a kind of shared language.

The more expressive they are, the more they get used. And the more they get used, the more they begin to feel like they belong to the culture itself.

I’ve been paying attention to a few creators working in this space, especially those who clearly treat their work with a high level of care.

One pattern I keep noticing is that the best sticker artists approach their work almost like animators or game designers. The characters feel alive, expressive, and consistent. You can tell when someone is a student of the craft.

The Baby Yoda-inspired sticker set on TON (along with my other favorite, Cherry) has really stood out to me for that reason.

It wasn’t just the character itself — which is already culturally recognizable — but the execution:

• expressive animation
• clean visual language
• consistency across the set
• and a clear understanding of how people actually use stickers in conversation

That combination is rare.

From a broader perspective, TON itself has been gaining traction, largely because of its deep integration with Telegram and the ease of building and distributing apps, tokens, and digital assets directly within a massive user base.

That creates an interesting environment where:

characters → become stickers
stickers → become communication
communication → becomes culture

And occasionally, culture becomes value.

I’m less interested in predicting which tokens “pump” and more interested in recognizing when something feels like it’s starting to embed itself into how people interact.

When that happens, the character often matters more than the asset.

And sometimes, the earliest artifacts tied to that character end up being the most interesting to own.




Journal Entry — Early Worlds

One thing I’ve always loved is seeing the earliest versions of worlds before they fully exist.

Concept art, sketches, early illustrations — the stage where imagination is still forming.

Some of the most fascinating artifacts in culture come from this moment.

Leonardo da Vinci filled notebooks with sketches of flying machines and strange mechanical devices centuries before the technology existed to build them.

Jules Verne imagined submarines, deep sea exploration, and journeys to the moon long before engineers could actually create those machines. His stories helped readers visualize futures that hadn’t arrived yet.

Later, artists like Ralph McQuarrie painted entire cinematic worlds before they existed. His concept art for Star Wars helped people see a universe that had only lived in imagination.

What fascinates me about these early visions is that they contain entire worlds in seed form.

They’re not polished yet. They’re exploratory.

But you can feel the idea beginning to take shape.

Sometimes those early sketches or illustrations eventually become films, technologies, or entire cultural universes.

Other times they remain beautiful glimpses of possibilities that were never fully realized.

Either way, there’s something special about encountering imagination at that early stage.

It’s like seeing the first outline of a world before the rest of us know it exists.

And occasionally, if you’re lucky, you get to watch that world grow.


Journal Entry — How I Decide Who to Back Early

People sometimes ask how I decide which creators or projects to support early.

The truth is, I’m not trying to predict markets. I’m looking for people who are clearly students of their craft.

When someone truly cares about what they’re making, it shows. Animation feels alive. Details feel intentional. Each new piece feels slightly better than the last. You can tell they’ve studied what came before them and are trying to push things forward.

Skill matters to me because it reflects time invested, mistakes learned from, and genuine respect for the work itself.

There’s a Japanese idea — shokunin — describing artisans who dedicate their lives to mastering their craft, caring even about details most people will never consciously notice.

Steve Jobs once said that even the parts of a computer nobody sees should be made well. The belief was simple: craftsmanship matters, even when invisible.

I’m drawn to creators who think this way. People who would rather ship fewer things at higher quality than flood the world with mediocre output. People who focus on doing one thing well instead of chasing every opportunity.

Originality and speed usually follow naturally when someone is deeply invested in becoming great at what they do.

Over time, I’ve realized that supporting creators at this stage — before recognition arrives — means you sometimes get to watch something meaningful grow from the beginning.

And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get to help it along the way.

More than anything, I enjoy meeting builders who are quietly working on things they believe in long before the crowd notices.

Those are usually the people worth paying attention to.




All of these stories have in common:

• People doing something before it was cool
• People building from obsession, not consensus
• People who gathered a few like-minded outcasts to build something memorable

That’s the energy I’m trying to spot when I collect early.

Collecting early isn’t about speculation. It’s about seeing the shape of something before it’s obvious, before others have put a narrative around it, and before it’s priced that way.

This journal is a way for me to document those early convictions — to capture why certain creators and projects stand out to me while they’re still being built, before the rest of the world notices.


Yellow Magic Orchestra (YMO) were three musicians in Tokyo in the late 1970s — Haruomi Hosono, Yukihiro Takahashi, and Ryuichi Sakamoto — experimenting with synthesizers and computers before a clear mainstream path existed for that sound. They were pioneers of electronic and synth music, influencing everything from early video game soundtracks to techno and hip hop. Their use of electronic textures, even sampling sounds reminiscent of early arcade games, helped shape what game and electronic music would become.

Their classic track Rydeen has always felt like one of those artifacts where you can hear a future emerging before people knew what to call it.

🔗 Yellow Magic Orchestra — Rydeen
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yxep-gS-Btg


Stories like that capture the energy I’m drawn to: people obsessively pushing boundaries because that’s what feels right to them — not because a crowd told them to.

Same thing happened in music.

20 ta oxirgi post ko‘rsatilgan.