KÆRE SELVBILLEDE: Wearing Vulnerability with Vigga Storm

Art Monday is pleased to introduce you to Vigga Storm, a multidisciplinary artist working across text, visual art, journaling and clothing as interconnected forms of expression.

In connection with the pop-up at Monday Studio, Vigga presents a curated glimpse into their artistic universe - unfolding through unique artworks, prints, and a dedicated clothing collection. Rooted in lived experience, contrast, and symbolic language, the works explore vulnerability and resilience, intimacy and distance, and the ongoing search for authenticity and relatability.

Drawing from the poetic diary "I Hope You Find Me Relatable, in a Time of Contrasts" the presentation translates personal narratives into visual and tactile forms. It is an honest, raw, and uncompromising universe that invites viewers to engage with the human behind the symbols - and to find connection within the contrasts.

To preserve the personal nature of Vigga Storm’s writing, all texts are presented in their original language, as first written in their journals. An English version can be found at the bottom of the page.

Når jeg bliver spurgt om hvem jeg er, går jeg næsten altid lidt i baglås, bortset fra når det er min dagbog, der spørger. Identiteten er dynamisk, fra sekund til sekund, og kan vendes og drejes som en fem-dimentionel figur, derfor har jeg valgt at besvare hvem jeg er, ud fra dagbogsskriverier fra forskellige momenter af mit liv.

Hvem er jeg?

Hvordan ser jeg mig selv?

Hvordan ser andre mig?

Er jeg autentisk?

Jeg er fisk i stjernetegn, og månen står i fisk lige nu. Det var fuldmåne for et par dage siden, og jeg har menstruation sammen med den. Den shamanistiske cyklus.

Jeg kunne måske afslutte skrivet her, for det er nok sådan jeg ser mig selv, i hvert fald for tiden.

Jeg føler jeg står et sted i mig selv, hvor sider der har ligget i dvale kommer frem. Sider som har været fyldt med skam, og sider der er blevet talt ned til.

Siden mine trekvart bukser blev færdige, har jeg gået i dem, og nogle nye jeg strikker på, er næsten færdige.

Jeg er Storm, Vigga Storm, som også skal lære at bære fortiden som andet end stolthed. Vigga tager pride i hvad der har været, for empowerment, kontrol, er noget af det der fik dem til at overleve. Storm skal slippe den igen.

I symbolet af gråd gør jeg det, og jeg græder meget, det har altid været en stor del af mig at græde, og som jeg har skrevet før er jeg smukkest når jeg græder. Eller griner helt nede fra maven.

Jeg tænker på sidste år, hvor mit selvbillede var famlende i den mest stålfaste version, i frygten for at nogen skulle opdage hvor meget jeg forsvarede mig selv, for mig selv.

Og jeg tænker på da jeg mødte bedstevennen, og jeg for første gang i lang tid faktisk grinte.

En tidlig morgen fik jeg talt mig selv op i et hjørne, og da han spurgte mig, “men hvem er du?”, brød jeg sammen og svarede “jeg er ingen, jeg findes ikke”.

Og det gjorde jeg ikke, for i fikseringen på at finde mig selv, glemte jeg selvet, det mest vigtige.

Det tog nogle måneder på keta i et trygt fællesskab for at jeg turde igen at være alene.

Det tog to måneder helt clean, og det tog en ny viden om udiagnosticeret adhd.

Det tog at mine tics kom tilbage, efter mange år med masking.

Nu står jeg den dag i dag og har svært ved at sætte ord på min identitet, efter at jeg forsøger at slippe de små teenage identitetsmarkører, som f.eks frygten for at nogle ruller smøger bedre end jeg selv, for hvem er jeg så?

Så er jeg ingen, hvis dette er det autentiske jeg.

Men jeg er mange, flere end de fleste, for mine stemmer er en del af dette, og jeg er.

Identiteten er vel som at gribe om røg, og som jeg sagde til min terapeut i går føles det som at jeg er stoppet med at gribe efter den, men i stedet sidder i røgen og håber på den ikke svier så meget i øjnene.

Jeg er Storm, som er et et lysvæsen, der mærker andre væsner.

Jeg er Vigga, fra Christianshavn og Amager, som så mørke steder af sindet i en for tidlig alder.

Jeg er Vigga Storm, som tager det hele med, som ikke er herfra, men som nyder rejsen.

Jeg er stadig det lille væsen som jeg var fra mange år siden, som blev misforstået, men forstod sig selv gennem fantasi verden og planter.

Jeg var skizofren stofmisbruger - som højst sandsynligt startede med adhd og en åbningen til det tredje øje, der ikke kunne kontrolleres. Jeg er.

Det regner lige nu, og lyden blander sig smukt med musikken, Billie Eilish.

Jeg lyster at gå ud i det, og det er nok sådan mit selvbillede ønsker at være, en der danser i regnen.

Se mig sådan og find mig relaterbar i den reneste menneskelighed.

På den note vil jeg afslutte skrivet, droppe jakken, og gå ud i sommerregnen...

ENGLISH VERSION:

When I am asked who I am, I almost always freeze a little — except when it is my diary asking. Identity is dynamic, from second to second, and can be turned and twisted like a five-dimensional figure. Therefore, I have chosen to answer who I am through diary writings from different moments of my life.

Who am I?How do I see myself?How do others see me?Am I authentic?

I am a Pisces by zodiac sign, and the moon is in Pisces right now. It was a full moon a few days ago, and I am menstruating along with it. The shamanistic cycle.

I could maybe end the writing here, because that is probably how I see myself — at least for now. I feel like I am standing at a place within myself where sides that have been dormant are coming forward. Sides that have been filled with shame, and sides that have been talked down to.

Since my three-quarter pants were finished, I have been wearing them, and some new ones that I am knitting are almost finished.

I am Storm, Vigga Storm, who also has to learn to carry the past as something other than pride. Vigga takes pride in what has been — because empowerment, control, were some of the things that made them survive. Storm has to let it go again.

In the symbol of crying, I do so — and I cry a lot. Crying has always been a big part of me, and as I have written before, I am most beautiful when I cry. Or when I laugh from deep in my stomach.

I think about last year, where my self-image was fumbling in its most rigid version, in fear that someone would discover how much I was defending myself — to myself.

And I think about when I met my best friend, and for the first time in a long while, I actually laughed.

One early morning, I had talked myself into a corner, and when he asked me, “but who are you?”, I broke down and answered, “I am no one, I do not exist.”

And I didn’t — because in the fixation on finding myself, I forgot the self, the most important thing.

It took a few months on ketamine in a safe community for me to dare to be alone again.

It took two months completely clean, and it took a new knowledge of undiagnosed ADHD.

It took my tics returning, after many years of masking.

Today, I now stand here and find it difficult to put words to my identity, as I try to let go of the small teenage identity markers — such as the fear that someone rolls cigarettes better than I do, because who am I then?

Then I am no one, if this is the authentic me.

But I am many — more than most — because my voices are a part of this, and I am.

Identity is probably like grasping at smoke, and as I said to my therapist yesterday, it feels like I have stopped reaching for it, and instead am sitting in the smoke, hoping it doesn’t sting my eyes too much.

I am Storm, who is a being of light, who senses other beings.

I am Vigga, from Christianshavn and Amager, who saw dark places of the mind at too early an age.

I am Vigga Storm, who brings everything along that is not from here, but who enjoys the journey.

I am still the small being I was many years ago, who was misunderstood, but understood themselves through worlds of fantasy and plants.

I am a schizophrenic substance abuser, who most likely started with ADHD and an opening to the third eye that could not be controlled. I am.

It is raining right now, and the sound blends beautifully with the music — Billie Eilish.

I long to go out into it, and that is probably how my self-image wishes to be — someone who dances in the rain.

See me like that, and find me relatable in the purest form of humanity.

On that note, I will end this writing, drop my jacket, and go out into the summer rain…