The concept traces back to Tumblr, where the blog "cursedimages" published its first post on October 28th, 20153. That inaugural image showed an elderly farmer surrounded by crates of red tomatoes in a wood-paneled room. In a 2019 interview with Paper, the blog's creator described it as "the perfect cursed image" because "there's nothing inherently unsettling about any part of it. It's a totally mundane moment transformed into something else by the camera and the new context I've given it"4. The post picked up over 1,200 notes in its first two years3.

The term "cursed image" had floated around Tumblr in loose usage before the dedicated blog launched. The Twitter @cursedimages admin later recalled seeing "one or two posts on Tumblr of an unexplainable and odd picture and the caption was simply 'cursed image'" earlier in 2016, but searching the term at the time turned up nothing organized2.

The concept drew substantial media attention in its first year alone. The New Yorker, Gizmodo, and New York Magazine all published feature-length pieces analyzing the trend in late 2016126. Wikipedia notes the term was "coined on social media in 2015 and popularised the following year"4.

The "cursed" label spread well beyond the original image-sharing format. It became a general-purpose internet descriptor for anything unsettling or off-putting. Cursed videos, cursed comments, cursed compilations, and cursed emojis all adopted the vocabulary3. The word "cursed" itself shifted meaning online, moving from supernatural connotation to a shorthand for "this makes me deeply uncomfortable and I can't explain why."

The academic study of creepiness that The New Yorker cited alongside the trend suggests cursed images tapped into something psychologically real: the human discomfort with ambiguous threats, situations where harm isn't present but can't be ruled out either1.

The roots of cursed images run deeper than the 2015 Tumblr blog, even if that's where the name was coined. The anonymous @cursedimages Twitter admin told The New Yorker about a lifelong fascination with the paranormal: "To this day, I waste a ridiculous amount of time watching videos of dolls supposedly caught moving on camera." As a child, the admin traveled with family to supposedly haunted locations, including the Sallie House in Kansas, a white brick residence notorious for ghost stories1.

That personal sensibility shaped the curation. When asked what makes an image "cursed," the admin told Gizmodo that the photos "leave you with a general uneasy feeling" and that certain qualities help, "like someone looking directly at the camera or an orb floating in the background"2. But the admin also acknowledged the line was blurry: "I know sometimes I post images that seem more silly than cursed, but I try to stay true to that weird feeling. I think a good balance of funny and creepy is important, and it leaves people wondering if the whole 'cursed' thing is really a joke or not"2.

The academic dimension is worth noting. In 2016, the journal New Ideas in Psychology published a study by Francis T. McAndrew and Sara S. Koehnke called "On the Nature of Creepiness," which found that "creepiness is a function of uncertainty about threat." The researchers argued that creepy situations involve "the question of whether there is something to fear" combined with "the ambiguity of the precise nature of the threat"1. This maps neatly onto the cursed image experience, where danger is never explicit but something feels deeply off.

New York Magazine's Feldman offered a different theory grounded in media history. He argued the "cursed" quality comes not from the image subjects themselves but from the photographic technology of the early 2000s6. Point-and-shoot cameras with harsh flash, low-resolution sensors, and orange timestamps produced images that now sit in an uncanny valley. They're "not old enough to scan as 'vintage,' but not well-manicured enough to be recognizable as contemporary"6. In a world of Instagram filters and FaceTune, unprocessed digital photos from 2002 look alien. Feldman's conclusion was pointed: "To insist that these images are 'cursed' because their subjects create an 'uneasy' feeling misses the point... they're just images taken from the last cultural moment when photography was meant to faithfully record events, not elaborately perform them"6.

The @cursedimages Twitter account also spawned an attribution companion. An account called @uncursedimages began sourcing the original photographers behind the images1. "Not too long ago, someone mentioned that they recognized a few images as professional photographs, and suggested I start crediting the artist," the admin explained. "Usually when I find these images, they're submissions given to me without sources"1. Some of the sourced stories only deepened the unease. One image of a woman encased in medical equipment with balloons around her face turned out to be from an Associated Press story about a woman in Memphis who died after a power failure shut off the iron lung she'd lived inside for nearly sixty years1.

The concept's vocabulary expanded rapidly through the late 2010s and early 2020s. "Blessed images" emerged as the positive counterpart, and "blursed images" combined both categories4. The r/blursedimages subreddit became its own thriving community on Reddit3. Beyond images, the "cursed" label was applied to videos, emojis, comments, and compilations, creating an entire taxonomy of unsettling internet content3. One notable spinoff was друг (pronounced "droog"), a cryptid character from a cursed image of a Deathclaw from the Fallout video game series, named after the Russian word for "friend"3.

The admin's own self-description may be the most revealing detail. "I am a very paranoid and generally uncomfortable person," they told The New Yorker. "The unsettling feeling people get when looking at these is pretty much how I feel most of the time"1.