Category: Fine art
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Dreams Realized!
“Bound and Blue” 
“Head in the Clouds” 
A blurry pic of my Statement in the INSIGHTS VI 2024 CATALOGUE of Works 
A Beautiful Dress at INSIGHTS VI at The Surovek Gallery, Palm Beach! 
Kinda Cute Artist 
My painting on the Cover!!! -
Avian Bondage
Plumage of gold and green/
Saturated color, only in dreams/
She flies above my winter bed/
A ribbon tangled round her head/
Beauty’s song is muted now/
Yet so pure and eloquent/
I try to catch her, hold her down/
I need to know what her song meant/
Of Avian Bondage © SusanTMartin’23 -
The Inside Voice
What is She Telling Me?
Can You Hear Me( INSIDE VOICE SERIES)© SusanTMartin 2023
I am trying to hear my authentic self, which is so buried under old baggage deep inside my chest. Losing a 19 year old friend to suicide 2 weeks ago has shot me back to dire times in my own youth. Knowing that she inhabited that black place I once did makes me terribly sad. It’s such a lonely room, with a locked door and impenetrable windows made of mirror that infinitely reflect your anguished face, your broken heart, your pleading eyes.
Such icy tundra you forge through, never advancing. Biting wind in your face you try to reach your loved ones, who are just ahead. You see them in the distance, you shout at them to wait, you want to be in their embrace so desperately, but the wind whips your voice away; they walk on. You struggle to move forward, but the icy ground and frigid cold freeze you through. This is the feeling of isolation, the inability to share your pain, and the terrible longing for love that led me to wanting to leave this life…
I must fight against these lies my mind whispers to me in lonely places. I wish Katy had been able to fight off the demon of depression. But her battle is over now. I will never forget her.
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Hugging You
oh, my/ i sigh,
wisp of memory/ floating by
an image/ remembering us
the smell of clean/ oil of olay
hands warm/ blue veins/ grey eyes
Oh, my/ i sigh.
arm in arm/ hand to hand
laughing again/ I dream
awake oh!
awaken my love!
waiting breathlessly/ drowning sea
I hug you tightly/ brightly
Shining / new penny perfect
Glorious / golden framed
I whisper your name…
Awaken my Love! 
I Dream…
Soon we will finally have peace , enough for everyone, everywhere. No more fighting or hatred. Love will prevail, goodness will triumph. And I will be with my loved ones again.
So I will hold on, just a little while longer. ALL the prophecies WILL come true. And I will be with you, again. Forever.
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Cruelty to Humans
Oh, Woe! To the Earth and the Sea!
Oh, my. So much going on in the world today. So many sad stories, War and pain all around us. It can feel so…
HEAVY.
and it is. I feel it, the weight of this life… It’s not killing me today, though. Not like it used to in the Usingtime.
There were days when I believed the pain of living was too much to bear. Days I self-medicated to blot out stark reality; the blinding daylight. Me in my little wormhole of misery, for 23 long years. It’s amazing how, after 24 years of sobriety, I can romanticize the Usingtime.
Self Portrait, Pastel, ©Susan T. Martin How beautiful I was that night when, slobbering drunk, I danced like a lunatic at an all-night bottle club. Or, how sexy I was when I fell on my butt coming out of a biker bar. Yeah, that was one to remember. Thank God there was no YouTube back then. It’s seared in the “MeTube” of my mind, though. Yeah, those were the gritty days: searing stomach pains from drinking 151 Rum: black eyes and a broken nose from “talking back” to a drunken ex-husband. Hiding my arms with long sleeve flannel shirts in the dead heat of August, while my Mom visited me for 2 weeks. All I could think about was sneaking my next hit.
Reader, “Is this just a sad, depressed jaunt down memory lane? Cause if it is, I have more problems, more sadness, worse pain than that.”
No, it’s just letting you know there is a way out. A way up. To a higher plane, a happier life, a real life with joy and everything! I needed to remember, to remind myself that I’m NOT that girl anymore. I am a new person with a new personality. God saw my pain, He saw my heart and He drew me to Him.
But I had to hit the bottom. Unfortunately, it is painful to stop using. Very. The light IS bright, and in it all your broken parts are visible. But you can’t fix what you don’t know is broken.
Step into the Light, my friend…
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EXPRESSIONS
I have finally begun to create again. I was locked in some inner dilemma for quite a while, but then had an epiphany: I must make a move, pick up a pen or a brush. Dab a color on a wall. Move a muscle, change a thought!
So work has started to pour out of me again, and I am pushing to improve. Take myself to new heights . Hopefully in balanced way, but that’s hard with Bipolar Disorder.
I’m flying up to Chicago soon, to go to INSIGHTS VI, the annual exhibition of Art by Bipolar Artists. This is the 5th consecutive win for me, having 5 works in The Ryan Licht Sang Bipolar Foundation’s permanent collection now. I am very grateful and look forward to the trip! I will keep you posted!
Thanks for listening and have an awesome night!
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That Happy Poor Girl
(or That Poor Happy Girl)
I am happy to be that poor girl…really! I have spent many days and hours working for very wealthy folks, and I am fine with my more humble surroundings. I see sparse, stark interiors; lots of steel, lots of neutrals. Blah. Bluk.
I suppose it’s alright for a little while, just as soaring ceilings might do for a bit. But it’s just not my thing. I’m a cottage kind of girl, a cabin kid, happy in a hovel, at home in a trailer, a caravan, a tent.
I do enjoy running water, electricity and heat/ac at the ready, though. “Younger me” was more of a survivalist, but my poor hands have arthritis now and wouldn’t be able to hold a match to start a fire. So yeah, electricity is pretty necessary.
. Today I worked some hours on the road. I never told you, but I’m what they call a “gig” driver now. So I tote around a lot of different types of people. Today I was reminded to be grateful, after delivering some privileged little teenagers to a “European Waxing Salon”. Uh, yeah. They were speaking in hushed tones about homeless people, and how scary Miami is now. I actually joined in, and felt ashamed afterwards. Who do I really think I am? I’ve been listening to some music I like from some years back, and an Everlast song keeps going thru my head. Some of the lyrics say,
” Then you really might know what it’s like…to have to lose…”
I had forgotten to be grateful. I’m not out on the street, sleeping under overpasses, stealing liquor, shooting coke…I’m not out beating people up, or stealing from my Grandma. I’m not out ripping and running…
Anymore .
I have to keep it real, keep it fresh. I don’t deserve anything I have. It’s all a gift.
This is my old tomcat, George. He came up to me in my driveway one dark night a couple months ago. Could hardly walk, ears tattered and bloody, one eye squinted shut. All his backbone was showing, all his ribs. A big lump on his side; he could hardly walk and his meow sounded like a cough.
But he’s here right now, on my warm lap. Purring his messed-up little head off. Does he want to live in the Taj Mahal? Well, maybe…but he seems pretty content right where he’s at.
So am I💕.
Out of the Gutter Art 
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