Anna Neshyba
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annaneshyba.bsky.social
Anna Neshyba
@annaneshyba.bsky.social
34 followers 49 following 57 posts
Neurodivergent crip artist who likes drawing, fairytales, queer liberation, and disability justice. Currently in Japan.

Website: https://www.annaneshyba.com/
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/annaneshyba
Substack (free): https://substack.com/@annaneshyba
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annaneshyba.bsky.social
I would so love that! What have you been interested in recently? A little project I've been working on is drawing mobility aids in a fantasy setting (I'll attach some pics). I want to start including characters and people. If you had any ideas that could be very small, and spoon-friendly collab!
Illustration by Anna Neshyba titled "The Bee Keeper's Cane" It depicts a very tiny cane, next to tiny gloves, and a tiny kettle. There is a honeycomb behind them and lavender behind the cane, and a bee is perched on the cane. Illustration by Anna Neshyba, depicts elbow crutches that are flying through the air. They have scarves attached to the bottom, and the background image is a cloud.
March 2, 2025 at 8:39 PM
annaneshyba.bsky.social
An illustration of The Green Man, by Anna Neshyba, as the artist remembers seeing them as a child. They have a heart shaped face, with a mane of leaves. Their skin is green and veiny. They have ram horns. Image of an illustration by Anna Neshyba. Done in watercolor and pencil, the illustration shows two children sitting on a log bridge. One is crouched, the other is sitting with their legs dangling over the side. The background shows trees receding into the distance. The children are smiling. An excerpt from the essay "When I Saw The Green Man" by Anna Neshyba. Text reads "I was six years old when I saw the Green Man. Evocative of children’s television characters, there is a simplicity in the name and the being. “Big Bird,” “Cookie Monster,” “Sun baby,” a kind of literacy that appealed to my child mind. “The Green Man,” the man who is green, the man made of green. When I picture my childhood, certain images rise in the darkness of my mind, like white apples bobbing to the surface of a murky pool: Cat’s face, my mother’s house, my father’s university, and the Green Man. I saw the Green Man at Point Defiance Park, the large urban park that adorns the Northern tip of my hometown of Tacoma, Washington. Calling it a “park” doesn’t feel quite right. Surrounded on three sides by the Salish Sea, it is an old-growth forest with a heavy canopy that shrouds the numerous trails in green shadow. Enormous tree carcasses frame the walkways, riddled with fungus, and everything smells like mud, and wet, and evergreen. It was my family’s favorite place."
March 1, 2025 at 2:15 AM
annaneshyba.bsky.social
A lil' watercolor I did. Based on a photo I took of my cousins on a walk around their beautiful neighborhood.
Watercolor and ink painting. It depicts a landscape scene, with many trees and foliage in the background. There are two people dancing with umbrellas in the right hand corner. Power lines overhead draw the viewers eye to a large tree that takes up the left hand side of the middle ground. It is painted with greens, blues and purples.
February 22, 2025 at 1:03 AM
annaneshyba.bsky.social
Heello, this is a little illustration I did for the essay "Forest Grew" by Cat Neshyba. The essay is wonderful, read here: catnesh.net/writings/for... Feedback is welcome, but not too much. I'm sure it's valid, but crying will take too much time, and I've got stuff to do.
Illustration by Anna Neshyba for the essay "Forest Grew" by Cat Neshyba. Made with watercolor and ink, the image shows a child’s raincoat and sandals, abandoned in an evergreen forest. The forest was based off of reference photos from Point Defiance Park, the park where Cat and Anna spent our childhood. There is a dirt path, enclosed by a corridor of trees and vegetation, and at the end of the path is a bright light.
February 17, 2025 at 9:38 PM
annaneshyba.bsky.social
Yoooo, I wrote this lil' essay, "Don't Tell me to do Yoga," about unsolicited advice given to people with disabilities. I wrote it while reading @thellpsx.bsky.social book, The Future Is Disabled. It was such a good book, and it taught me so much. Read full essay on substack. Hope ya'll enjoy!
Comic of two figures, with a caption "Why don't you do yoga?" The question is being asked by the character on the left. He is dressed well, in late 19th century attire, with a top hat, pointing to the character on the right. The character on the right is a little goblin creature. Their arm is in a a sling, and they have several casts and wraps on. They are looking back at the character asking the questions with judgement. First page of text of the essay "Don't Tell me to do yoga," by Anna Neshyba. It reads: Welp, it happened again. I had just sat down with my signature order (espresso and a mochi donut) at my favorite coffee shop and began to work on my latest piece. It’s a paint marker illustration depicting a colorful night procession. The woman next to me struck up a conversation, complimenting my art. She liked it, and we had a very pleasant exchange. I ever so briefly mentioned my disability. I did not speak about it negatively, only its impact on what I do, but the atmosphere of the conversation immediately shifted. She said she was sorry for me, and began to ask me questions. Question: what do I have? Answer: I have Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, a connective tissue disease. Question: what does that do to a person? Answer: it affects the production of collagen, an important protein found in connective tissue. Many people with hEDS experience joint instability, hyper mobility, and chronic pain, but it affects people differently. Interestingly enough, she did not ask what I do to manage it. I do physical therapy, take medication, and I use a wheelchair for energy conservation and pain management. I also use a ton of short term interventions to manage daily aches and pains. “Have you tried yoga?” The question sits awkwardly in the air as I take a deep breath. Here we go again. Second page of text from the essay "Don't Tell me to do Yoga," by Anna Neshyba. It reads: We are now in the prescriptive part of the conversation. She recommends things, and I say yes, yes, no, yes. It’s tedious, and I shut it down as quickly as I can. Why is it so tedious? Well, because I’ve had this conversation before. Over and over. I personally have been asked this question probably fifty times, by fifty different people. It seems to be every able-bodied person’s first instinct. Some ask if I’ve done, or will do yoga, before they even ask what I have. Like yoga is a magical cure all, appropriate for any disease or illness, even if they themselves have never done yoga. It seems as soon as someone learns of my illness, I invariably receive recommendations and suggestions, and this is an experience that seems common among my disabled peers. And it’s not just yoga, I’ve received hundreds of recommendations. They delve into diet and nutrition, e.g. have I tried: keto, cutting out sugar, cutting out gluten, losing weight, etc. They’ll ask about movement disciplines, yoga being the most common, but then pilates, tai chi, dance, meditation, and then if they have exhausted those, they’ll ask about Eastern medicine interventions: acupuncture, reflexology, cupping. I have fielded probably hundreds of recommendations, and for the record, before anyone thinks to ask, the answer is yes. I have tried many of these things. The conversation stuck out to me in a way it hasn’t in the past. Haunted me as I sipped my espresso, and after I put away my markers and returned home. Third page of text of the essay "Don't Tell Me to Do Yoga," by Anna Neshyba. It reads: I truly believe the woman in the coffee shop meant well. I know that most people mean well. They don’t like the idea that I might be in pain, and their inquiries come from a place of genuine concern for my well being. But walking back from the coffee shop, I finally placed my feelings of discomfort; the reason I dislike this conversation. Intent is not the same as impact, and there is often a subtle inquiry in these “harmless” bits of advice, and that is: is this your fault? Is your disability the result of your inaction? If you did yoga, would you still be disabled? I have been re-reading Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha’s book, The Future Is Disabled; Prophesies, Love Notes, and Mourning Songs. I read it about a year ago, but it was early in my disability journey, and there was a lot that I wasn’t ready for. As I read it again, I realize I have come a long way in making sense of my body, the movement, and my place in the world. I am thinking about the book as I contemplate the “have you tried yoga” phenomena, and this exchange with the otherwise nice lady at the coffee shop. Because this kind of uninformed and unsolicited advice is predicated on the assumption that disability is an individual misfortunate, that can, and should, be “fixed” with individual solutions. A core component of The Future is Disabled is that disability is not only a natural part of human diversity, but that disabled thought is critical to creating a just society for all.
February 5, 2025 at 9:18 PM