The Esoteric Artist : A Journey Through Isolation

Imposter syndrome can affect us on many levels and at various times during our artistic journey. One instance where our brain tries to convince us that our art lacks value is when we create art that is deeply esoteric. In these moments, it can often feel like what you’re doing isn’t good enough, like its invisible, and because our art is so intrinsically tied to our soul and who we are, we internalize the isolation that permeates our work and the interior, mirrors the exterior.

it makes us question everything we do. It can make us doubt our voice, our vision, and our place in the world. When the work feels too obscure, too foreign to others, we wonder if it matters at all because ultimately we are our art and our art is us, so the social perception toward our work becomes internalized.

People, but especially artists, find the prospect of “uniqueness” to be alluring and very desirable. Why? Because we associate the great artists and art throughout history with uniqueness. The same can be said for brilliant individuals overall. And because we associate creative brilliance with originality or uniqueness, we in turn equate that with success, and to many, success equates to wealth and validation.

From an early age, we are told that being unique is a virtue. We look up to the figures who stood out in their fields, the ones who seemed to be doing something that no one else dared to do. This builds up the idea of being unique so much in our heads that we are never ready for what such a thing actually entails.

Because what is often left out of the narrative is the struggle unique individuals faced before they were recognized. The years of obscurity, the doubt, and the rejection. The struggle to be seen is just as important as the moment when you are finally acknowledged.

In society, most people are striving to stand out, to be noticed, to be special. We all are the main characters within our story, but what I’ve learned in my almost eleven years as a photographer is that to be unique is often to be misunderstood. It is to be a black sheep. It is to speak in a language that only you can hear until the world is ready to learn and listen. It can be inherently isolating and lonely on multiple levels. This is compounded even more so by neurodivergent Artists.

There’s a certain weight that comes with being misunderstood, with having a vision that others can’t immediately comprehend or simply don't resonate with. But there’s also a freedom in it.

The more misunderstood you are, the freer you become to create without constraint. The more you learn to trust your inner voice and the process itself, the less you rely on external validation. In those moments, the work becomes a conversation between you and your soul, not you and an audience.

But also, what is the Art without an audience that can be shaped by it? Validation toward our Art matters despite it not being what should define it.

Many artists have struggled with this, but it is difficult to articulate this which is one of the reasons i wanted to address it. We’re all inherently unique, but some create work in a league of its own. More often than not, if you create something truly distinct and unique, it’s more likely to be rejected than it is to be immediately loved. However not every instance of standing out from the crowd equates to genius, it is of course like most things circumstantial.

The weight of this uniqueness is heavy, but it is also essential. When you create something that pushes boundaries, it’s not always going to fit neatly into the world’s current understanding of what you or your art is.

That’s just how culture is. People don’t embrace “different” until they figure out how to connect with it.

Sometimes, that connection takes years, sometimes decades. It requires the world to evolve, for minds to open and perspectives to shift. Art that feels like an outlier today can become a defining moment in culture tomorrow. But in the meantime, it can make the artist feel deeply alone and isolated with a truth only they can see. We don't acknowledge enough the mental health ramifications that this can have on people.

Being in a league of your own often means nobody comes to your ballgame, but that doesn’t make the show you put on any less exciting.

It’s easy to look around and feel discouraged when no one is attending your game. But in those moments, you have the opportunity to refine your craft, to sharpen your performance, and to deepen your commitment to your own vision.

I can't promise that people will show up to watch you play but i do believe that we have to continue to play regardless of who is watching.

But it is very hard, it can be deeply isolating to have a vision, a language that few can speak and less can see, but there is value in the way you define art through your reality and i believe that the door you build will help the right people walk into a better place in their life.

Regardless, i see you and i'm with you. Let your voice be heard and continue taking up space no matter what.