Imagine
being flooded with negative emotions: unable to process them, not knowing or
willing to accept where they are coming from, not understanding why simple
tasks get connected to feelings of terror. Not knowing the reason for one’s
depression becomes the biggest elephant in the room; it is the question
everyone wants to be answered.

I could not
see an answer or I did not want it to be an easy equation. From my perspective
there is a lot to me, there is no simple answer. Ultimately however it is
simple.

Confidence
issues are the source of my depression.

The first
time I can clearly say I had a mental struggle between what I wanted to do and
an emotional response was Oslo 2001. I wanted to join a live role-playing
group, but when I saw them I was not able to approach, it was an anxiety attack
stemming from a lack of confidence. This was the catalyst, but many events
leading up to this had been feeding into it. Bullying, being an outcast,
dyslexia, not being a part of any group activities that help bolster a young
boy’s confidence, my quiet and non-assertive demeanor and many other little
drops in the water. Up until this event I believed I had a strong will and
mind, that I had struggled through my challenges and become stronger, but this
was and is not true. I’m highly sensitive and easily have negative reactions
that I let affect my confidence. When my confidence is challenged, I retreat
and become disconnected from the world, as I do not want it to be seen that I’m
lacking in confidence. One negative aspect is that I do not create art in these
periods, however, it still fuels my creation. What truly is the killer is that
I’m not able to do research, write applications and put myself out there when
I’m caught by the tendrils of apathy.

Where I am
strong is in the willingness to continuously put myself back into situations
that have the potential to knock me down again. I’m like that man who never
lies down; I always get up again from the punch, a stubborn boy who does not
know how to fight, but worse still does not get any smarter after each punch,
which makes me rather stupid. To top it off, I picked the career of an Artist,
a bad idea for someone with my problem. Studying art was an excellent time of
growth, as it was in a framework that supported and celebrated good work. The
flip-side is, outside of the university framework, making good work is only 10%
of what is needed; it is about making good connections, being forward, writing
application after application, demonstrating oneself to be trustworthy, selling
oneself and stimulating egos. Nothing wrong with most of that, however they are
all actions that hammer at my confidence. I do not have tough skin, I feel a
lot, which makes me an extraordinary artist but a bad salesman and ultimately a
bad artist. Oh how I love paradoxes and oxymorons: I’m both good and bad at
what I do.

If life is
like snakes and ladders, then one could say that there have been times I’ve
played well, landing on some amazing ladders and going up and away, but my
confidence issues have landed me on a lot more snakes. For the last year I have
fallen down the biggest snake, walked up one amazing ladder, which was Venø
Gård KUNST, just to immediately fall down a big snake once more. I would say
I’m currently right back at the beginning of the game, reflecting on my past
work, uncertain of how to actually play the game, clueless of how to reach the
ladders, wondering if I can walk the path, knowing that with the person I am, I
will be landing on many snakes, telling myself platitudes in an attempt to push
myself forward. Ultimately I can but do one thing: struggle.

To accept
Sisyphus’ tale of pushing a boulder up a mountain (which rolls back to the base
every time he reaches the top,) as a positive reflection of life, we must
imagine that it is the struggle that is his source of happiness, and not
reaching the top. I, on the other hand, am not enjoying the struggle. How can
one enjoy pushing one’s confidence up the mountain only to see it roll down
again, knowing from past experiences that this will happen time and time again?
I continue not for the vague chance I might actually reach the top or because I
enjoy the struggle. I continue because I believe my definition of art—to
explore the unknown and encourage others to explore—to be immensely important
for humanity.

Amidst
self-doubt and depression I have that one belief which is rock solid: I have
something to say, so Hear Me.