Embracing the Chaos: How Bipolarity Fuels My Absurdist Tendencies

Absurdism, to me, is a way of laughing at the confusion and randomness of life. It’s the freedom to embrace the weirdness without trying to pin it down or force it into a logical structure. Life itself can feel absurd, especially when you’re navigating the ups and downs of being bipolar. There’s a certain humor in how things don’t always make sense, and absurdism gives me a way to play with that.

When I’m creating, especially in the absurdist style, I feel like I’m channeling the chaotic energy that comes with the high points of mania or the slower, more reflective moments of depression. Both states allow me to see the world differently than most people might. There’s an openness to possibilities, to strange combinations of thoughts and visuals that others might overlook. That’s what makes absurdism such a perfect fit for me. It’s about leaning into the nonsense, the unpredictability, and finding meaning—or even joy—in the lack of structure.

In my art, I don’t try to explain why things are the way they are. A fish might be flying through the sky, or a clock might be melting over the edge of a table. It’s not meant to be understood in a conventional sense, because life often doesn’t offer neat explanations either. I find comfort in creating work that mirrors that unpredictability. There’s a certain power in embracing the absurd, in letting the art reflect the strangeness that exists both in my mind and in the world around me.

Being bipolar adds a layer to this that I think is unique. It’s not something that holds me back; rather, it gives me an edge. The highs give me this energy, this drive to create something that doesn’t need to fit into anyone’s expectations. The lows, while tough, often bring a deeper sense of reflection, a quieter, more subtle absurdity. It’s a constant fluctuation, and my art follows that rhythm.

Absurdism, in its way, is a form of rebellion against the idea that everything needs to make sense. It’s a perfect medium for someone like me, who experiences life in extremes. In those extremes, I find images and ideas that might not come to me if I weren’t bipolar. It’s a gift in that way, allowing me to see connections between things that others might miss. The absurd becomes a playground for my mind, a space where I can let go of expectations and just let things be strange, fun, and, most importantly, honest.