After the first four or five exhibitions around Nørrebro, I somehow managed to put together something much bigger at Dome of Visions that same summer.

The whole thing came together within roughly four months of the very first event. I was the one pushing it forward, making the calls, finding the people and trying to get all the pieces to meet in the middle. When time got tight, good friends stepped in and helped carry it over the line.

What started as a small art walk had suddenly turned into something close to a festival, with visual art, music and performance under the same roof.

And somehow I walked away from it with a loss of around 1,500 DKK.

No funding.

I remember thinking: this is actually fun. There might be something here.

Not because losing money is a particularly brilliant business model, but because people had shown up. Artists wanted to take part. Audiences came. A place like Dome of Visions had opened its doors, and a strange little idea had suddenly become something people were willing to put their own energy into.

I think a large part of the attraction was a certain sense of fandenivoldskhed.

A kind of: Fuck it. Let's just do it.

The artists could feel that. And yes, being able to say "Dome of Visions" obviously didn't hurt either. A strong venue gives people something real to imagine themselves inside. Whether you were making visual art, performance or something else entirely, there was suddenly an actual space where the idea could happen.

But I think the energy mattered just as much.

It wasn't about waiting for somebody else to approve the project. We weren't sitting around hoping for a foundation, an institution or a gatekeeper to tell us whether the idea was worth pursuing.

If we believed there was something in it, we tried to build it.

_to be continued!