Aquatic Depths isn’t some professional aquarium design firm or a consulting business run by marine biologists. It’s just a bunch of regular people who got weirdly obsessed with keeping fish tanks and figured we’d share what we’ve learned — the good stuff, the expensive mistakes, and the algae disasters that made us question our life choices.
None of us have degrees in aquatic biology or professional aquascaping credentials. We’re just hobbyists who spend way too much time watching our tanks instead of sleeping, reading forum posts at 2am trying to figure out why our plants are melting, and explaining to skeptical family members why we need “just one more tank.”
It started with Billy, who picked up this hobby during a rough patch after his divorce. Used to work in pharmaceutical sales, spent fifteen years flying around the Midwest, and then suddenly found himself in an empty apartment in Columbus with nothing to do and too much time to think. Walked into a pet store one Saturday because it was next to the grocery store, saw this massive planted tank, and stood there watching it for twenty minutes like some kind of weirdo. Bought a 20-gallon setup that day with absolutely no idea what he was doing. Lost fish, killed plants, created algae farms, made every beginner mistake you can make. But slowly figured it out, got obsessed with aquascaping competition videos from Japan, started documenting what actually worked versus what just looked cool in theory. Now he’s got five tanks in his apartment and his landlord is convinced they’re going to leak and destroy the floor. Marcus writes about this as someone still figuring things out, not as an expert — when he mentions techniques or best practices, it’s stuff he learned from forums and YouTube, not professional training.
Then there’s Bobby, living in a 600 square foot apartment in San Jose where every item has to justify its existence. Works as a QA tester, grew up watching her dad’s koi pond in Sacramento, and now has three nano tanks crammed into her tiny place. Started with a 6-gallon cube during lockdown after falling down an Instagram rabbit hole of planted aquariums. Turns out those first few months were a complete disaster — algae explosions, melted plants, fish deaths, the whole mess. But she’s stubborn and had already spent money on it, so she kept going. Learned to propagate plants from tiny cuttings because she couldn’t afford to keep buying new ones. Collects rocks from hiking trips instead of buying expensive aquascaping stones. Figured out which budget equipment actually works versus what’s just overpriced marketing. Her boyfriend moved in last year and she had to negotiate how many tanks were acceptable in their small space (settled on three, though she’s lobbying for a fourth). Priya writes from the perspective of someone making this hobby work with limited money and limited space — proving you don’t need a massive budget or a fish room to create something beautiful.
Tom teaches seventh grade science in suburban Portland, which means he spends his days convincing middle schoolers that mitochondria matter and yes, this will be on the test. Started with a 55-gallon tank inherited from a retiring teacher who was going to throw it away. Set it up with basic goldfish and plastic plants, realized it was boring, discovered planted aquariums could be actual teaching tools. Spent a summer vacation researching aquascaping, converted the tank to a proper planted setup, and watched his students go from mildly interested to genuinely engaged. They’d volunteer for tank maintenance, ask detailed questions about nitrogen cycles, request to do science projects about aquarium ecology. The tank became this living laboratory where abstract concepts became concrete. Tom’s not a professional aquascaper — he’s a teacher who figured out how to use planted tanks for education and ended up with four tanks at home in the process. His wife vetoed putting a tank in their bedroom because she doesn’t want to hear bubbling water while trying to sleep, which is apparently non-negotiable. When he writes about aquascaping, it’s from the perspective of someone balancing hobby interests with teaching responsibilities and the reality of maintaining tanks when you’re juggling seventh graders and lesson plans.
Elena spent thirty-two years as an ER nurse in Minneapolis — the kind of job that either hardens you completely or burns you out, usually both. Retired at 62 partly burnt out, partly qualified for pension, suddenly had all this time and no idea what to do with it. Her granddaughter asked for a fish tank, so Elena bought a saltwater setup without researching first (turns out saltwater is incredibly difficult — who knew?). Struggled with it for six months, almost gave up, switched to freshwater planted tanks instead. Discovered aquascaping, found it meditative in a way she desperately needed after decades of high-stress emergency medicine. The process of arranging rocks and plants slowly, watching her tanks in the evenings, the routine maintenance without urgency — it was like the opposite of everything that had stressed her out for thirty years. Her blood pressure dropped. She slept better. Her daughter the therapist pointed out she’d accidentally stumbled into perfect stress management therapy. Now Elena’s got multiple tanks, spent more money than she probably should admit (but it’s her retirement and it’s cheaper than actual therapy), and documents her progress mostly to share with her grandkids. She’s not trying to be some expert — just a retired nurse who found planted tanks helpful for decompressing after a stressful career.
Cynthia has two kids under five and works from home doing freelance graphic design, which translates to constantly juggling client deadlines while preventing toddlers from eating crayons. Their spouse works restaurant management with weird hours, so Jordan’s often solo-parenting evenings while trying to make enough money to justify childcare costs. Started feeling guilty about how much screen time the kids were getting, wanted something alive in the house besides sad succulents, figured a fish tank might work. Bought a 20-gallon during a Petco dollar-per-gallon sale, went through the confusing cycling process, finally got some colorful fish. The four-year-old was immediately fascinated — would help feed them every morning, watch them instead of demanding TV. The tank became part of their daily routine, helped with screen time reduction, turned into this unexpected teaching tool about ecosystems and responsibility. Jordan’s added two more tanks since then, uses tank maintenance as a meditative break after kids are in bed. Not a professional aquascaper or expert — just a freelance designer and parent who stumbled into this hobby looking for ways to expose kids to nature in their suburban rental. When Jordan writes about setups or techniques, it’s from the perspective of someone balancing limited time, limited space, and small children who like to “help” by dumping random things into tanks.
And there’s Juan, a junior at University of Washington studying computer science. Lives near campus with two roommates, spends most of his time staring at code and questioning his life choices during brutal problem sets. Got into aquascaping during COVID lockdown when he was stuck alone in his apartment, attending classes on Zoom, slowly losing his mind from isolation. Started watching aquascaping videos because the algorithm suggested one, found it weirdly calming, decided to try setting up a tank as a project. Bought a used 10-gallon on Craigslist for twenty bucks, cheap equipment, went the budget route because student loans. Having something living to care for actually helped his mental state during quarantine — gave structure to days that otherwise blended together, provided routine when everything felt uncertain. Got really into it after that, started experimenting with different setups, learned to propagate plants because he couldn’t afford to keep buying new ones, collected rocks from hiking trips instead of paying for expensive aquascaping stones. His roommates thought he was weird when they came back and found multiple aquariums, but they’ve gotten used to it. Carlos writes from a college student perspective — limited budget, limited space, limited time with school demands. How to set up tanks in rental apartments, which equipment is worth spending money on, how to maintain tanks around exam schedules. Practical stuff for other students dealing with constraints.
Together we make up Aquatic Depths — a mix of people from different backgrounds and life stages who all got way too into keeping planted tanks. We’re not aquarium professionals or marine biologists. We’re a former pharma sales guy, a QA tester, a middle school teacher, a retired nurse, a freelance designer with toddlers, and a CS student. We don’t have clients or official credentials. We just share what we’ve tried, what’s worked, what failed spectacularly, and what we learned from the inevitable disasters.
What connects us is this weird obsession with creating underwater gardens in glass boxes and the constant problem-solving involved in keeping little ecosystems balanced. We read studies about plant biology at inappropriate hours, watch aquascaping videos while eating dinner, join online forums to troubleshoot algae problems, spend money on equipment we probably don’t need, and explain to concerned family members that no, this isn’t getting out of hand, we have it under control (we don’t always have it under control).
Aquatic Depths exists because we wanted to share what we’ve learned with other people trying to figure this out. There’s plenty of professional content from expert aquascapers with competition-level tanks and unlimited budgets, but not as much from regular people dealing with rental apartments, tight budgets, busy schedules, skeptical landlords, and the reality that sometimes your carefully planned aquascape just turns into an algae-covered disaster and you have to start over.
So no, we’re not professionals. We’re hobbyists who got really into this and decided to document the journey — the successes, the failures, the expensive mistakes, and the moments when everything finally clicks and your tank looks exactly how you envisioned it. And if you’re into that too, welcome. You’re in the right place.
Grab whatever beverage you prefer, maybe go check on your own tank real quick to make sure nothing’s catastrophically wrong, and stay awhile.