Category: Artistic Excellence
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She’s Back Online
SUSAN IS WRITING AGAIN!
Yay!
The Artist I. CHICAGO 2023 to attend the INSIGHTS VI Exhibition at the Zolla Lieberman Gallery. For the Benefit of THE RYAN LICHT SANG BIPOLAR FOUNDATION!! I’ve had an excellent end to 2023, being the Special Guest of The RLSF when INSIGHTS VI headed down to Palm Beach Gardens in December. It was the greatest honor of my life! And meant ever so much more due to my Brother Eric, his wife Gail and my dear Nephew Christian being in attendance! This was held at The John Surovek Gallery, in Palm Beach.
I was interviewed by the Writer and Director of the upcoming film “Brainstorm,” a documentary about Bipolar Disorder, she is the Author of the book of the same name. Totally worth reading and definitely seeing when it airs!
So,.you see the HIGH I was riding as the curtain opened onto 2024’s stage! The sky is the limit, into the great wide open!
THE FLIP SIDE: STAGNATION BEGINS
A vision of Lonely Cat Lady future? NOOOO! The mental brick wall crashed down rapidly as the year began… but I didn’t recognize it at first. ( A common modus operandi of sneaky, deadly Bipolar disorder). I was exhausted, sleeping all afternoon, no interest in work or play. My dear friend (who I was a caregiver for part-time) suddenly took ill and was gone in a week. Then, the back to back anniversaries of my parent’s deaths in March. My father’s on the 7th, Mom’s on the 21st. Major trauma in my psyche clinging to the violent end of Dad, these 8 years after it. Coupled with the void left of my Mom’s demise; she was the only one in my family who had ever loved me enough to learn about my Bipolar diagnosis: who understood my life’s disastrous course had been symptoms of it, not moral failing.
As the year wore on therapy helped a bit, but injury and outpatient surgery on my spine and knee just kept me immobilized, as did a bout of Covid.
A month of unexpected relocation across the state to care for an elderly aunt who was experiencing elder abuse by friends and neighbors caused EXTREME stress, as attorneys and the law were involved to try to keep her safe. Going along with this, I found that she had been victim of a Publisher’s Ckearinghouse scam; a loss of $118,000 dollars. She also purchased a house for a woman who was posing as an RN, who was in the process of attempting to change my poor Aunt’s will by going to her hospital room with a Notary in tow (where said Auntie was recovering from a stroke). This treacherous poser had actually not informed me of Aunt Betty’s stroke until 15 days after; while arranging for her to be put on hospice. The hospital had actually gone along with these plans, just on this criminal’s word that my Aunt had no next of kin and that she (criminal) was a real Nurse!!!
Note: I was able to make my Aunt’s last weeks of life more comfortable before she had 2 strokes and died. And yes, the awful, lying faker did inherit the house my Aunt purchased, while none of my family got anything. I was saddened, but am now happy to know that the rest of her estate went to The American Cancer Society and Shand’s Hospital.
Two major hurricanes, Helen and Milton have caused havoc, ripped my carport off and caused me to have to evacuate my home twice in the past 2 months; I belive these are the last of the life-changing occurrences up to now. Whew!
Writing all this down has allowed me to see how hard this year has been, and I don’t feel guilty for falling short of my goals.
It had been one bumpy ride!
Rising from the Ashes!
I am determined to push on!!! Keep climbing this hill until I reach the summit, keep reaching out for opportunities to get my business off the ground, to get a solo show and even work on grant applications again. Most of all I am getting to work on new art!!
The deadline for INSIGHTS VII will be here; much to be done!! I’m ready to face the future with HOPE and JOY!
The White Stag and the Thistle Thank you for visiting!
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The Days of Trouble Begin
A guy can be going along so well, everything chugging along, when suddenly; the bottom falls out of the world. Just when it seemed like smooth sailing.
Is that shocking to me? Shouldn’t be. I’ve felt like Wile. E Coyote many times. This time was different. This time is different.
Until the day comes that I can speak, I will paint. I will draw. And I will carry the Hurt. But it WILL NOT defeat me.
Inside I am safe, free, loved, cherished.
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The Mural Dream of a Cool Kid
THE MURAL DREAM
DOOR MURAL , 2018 
DETAIL, DOOR MURAL, 2018 
DETAIL, DOOR MURAL, 2018 
SHED MURAL IN PROGRESS 
Mural Idea, 2016 
SHED MURAL PROGRESS) 
Reaching Out, acrylic on canvas, Work in Progress, Susan T. Martin 2017 
Last Years Insights II WINNING Entry! A long way from painting on bridges, but I still long for a blank wall!! Mural painting is fine art today. Just as great frescoes in the days of Michelangelo, and centuries before, large scale art is an artist’s dream. Is that why children inevitable write in crayon on the playroom walls?
I am sure of this: As long as I have been able to appreciate fine art and my burning desire to depict what I see thru it: I have wanted to paint murals. At times, in my youth, I exercised this need, painting in spray enamel on any available wall in the dead of night. “HELLO WORLD!” in six foot tall red letters over a grinning, fanged 30 foot tall caricature, scrawled on an underpass along I-95 southbound. Painted in 1985, before the Interstate had even made it to West Palm beach. Ah, what satisfaction to drive by it in the backseat of Dad’s Mazda, grinning silently.
These were days before I heard of graffiti culture, I was a transplant to the largely undeveloped east coast of Florida an hour north of Fort Lauderdale. These were the days when the County Sherriff had bricks of coke and bales of weed being dropped on his private airstrip a few miles north of my house. I hung out with a bunch of dudes who owned a race car shop, building mid-engine Mustangs and drag racing on Glades Cut-off Road.
Before Race-day one weekend, the boys let me use all the leftover spraypaint in the shop to paint huge murals of fire breathing dragons and heavy metal chicks everywhere. I was high on life, and probably paint fumes and Columbian gold. What a rush, the guys all in amazement at my grand design. Now I was a real artist, a legend at the shop, “The Girl Who Painted Barrel Road “. Now I knew how Michelangelo must have felt when he unveiled the Sistine Chapel for the Pope! (Unveiled it? How, exactly?) Well, anyway, it felt cool.
FASTFORWARD NOW, 25 years clean and sober, a professionally recognized fine artist in my own right. Now living in St. Petersburg, Florida which hosts the annual “SHINE” mural festival, an event which brings mural artists and fans from all over the globe, and I’m still dreaming.
I know it will happen, I will have a wall to call my own. I will keep pushing, keep striving, keep believing. After all, I was born on the sixth day of March- the same day as Michelangelo!
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Peeping Out
Squinting. Blink, blink…blink, blink…
The coast seems clear, dare I step out-into the light? I think I must, after my last cryptic and elusive post. Nothing bad happened, artistically. I was uplifted, encouraged, validated. People needed to hear from me, needed to hear how a girl with so many odds stacked against her from the “git go”, plus the things I had piled on myself-how I had teetered at the edge of the abyss…and made it back to tell the tale.
Why? Why? Why? ©STMartin “Growth” detail Many are grieving themselves, their pain written in their beautiful eyes, on expertly made up, flawless faces. They searched mine, looking for an answer- “Why.” Why? Why? Had they missed the signs? Were there signs? Hadn’t they done everything, sought the right help, paid the right physician, listened closely in the therapy sessions?
Why hadn’t their love been enough?
Of Love Lost…©STMartin2021 I could only tell them that there was no rhyme or reason as to why I am here and their daughter is not. They did nothing to cause Bipolar Disorder. It doesn’t come from privilege, nor does it spring from want. It isn’t kept at bay with hugs or attention, nor is it fueled by neglect. At least none of this was true in my case.
My family was dysfunctional, true. So were many of my peers families. So are nearly all families. But my friends had not led lives fueled by a burning need to shoot across the sky in a blaze of purple confetti. Or to try to beat the Guiness world record for consecutive shots of 100 proof vodka. Nor had they experienced the kind of despair that left them lost and disheveled in their bathrobe when they were supposed to be graduating college or accepting an award.
A very trippy feeling…©STMartin I wanted to tell them they did more than my family ever did. That my Mom was the only one who believed that I did not want to be a train wreck. She asked the questions, walked thru broken glass for me and held my hand when the meds weren’t working. But ultimately she couldn’t divert the catastrophe either.
I’m trying to tell you it’s not your fault. Grieve the loss, but don’t blame yourself. I know when the darkness comes over me, it’s no one’s fault. And if I hold on really tight, it will pass. I white-knuckle it many nights, but a new day always dawns.
One day in the future there will not be any mental illness, or suicide. Until then just love your Bipolar person, hold on tight when you can and bask in their amazing glow. Be there when their sparklers fizzle and love them back to their feet. When they jump in their little rocket ships to the moon, put on a brave smile and wish them all the love in the world…till you meet again.
And if you are Bipolar and you are feeling alone, please reach out if you can. Know that you are worthy of love and that this darkness will eventually pass. You will be back on top again. The rain will stop. The sun will shine, the pain will ease. Hold on for dear life my friend.
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Round One: Let the Game Begin!
I Will find the WILL!!
My Founding Artist painting: The first of my works to be placed in The Ryan Licht Sang Bipolar Foundation’s Permanent Collection! Fittingly titled “Crossing the Deleware, Well Aware” it shows my journey from despair and being held back by my past to shedding the overcoat of depression and walking into the sunlight of my artistic future! I based this title on the little “George Washington” Dude lurking down in the bottom center of the painting…See his funny hat?
My “Doubting Suzie” Ways
Ok, friends, here’s the deal: I quit working as Frank Strunk III’s intern last week. Why, when I was enjoying learning from him so much? Why, when my mind was blooming open to all kinds of brilliant metal working techniques, and my mind was being blown by his artistic vision?
“Why in the world would you do that Susan Todd?”, Susan Todd asked Susan Todd.
I figured out the answer to that yesterday, although the reasons I gave Frank were that
A. I need to focus on my work I already do, cause it’s what I do. (Huh?)
B. I am doing a piece about my Dad and I’m an emotional landmine.(Hmmmm….What?)
C. I have been invited to a big event and need to focus.(Nope.)
D. Too many scattered efforts make Suzie nuts. (Now THAT makes sense)
Did I do the right thing? I wasn’t sure, because I really want to make metal art. I’m frequently making impulsive decisions and regretting them. He was generous with his time, his tools, opening his shop, his art and heart to help an emerging artist. And I bailed, just when I was really digging in.
An Emotional piece about my Dad…Work in Progress. “Dead Men Tell No Tales”©STMartin2022 (started last week!) I hate how my Bipolar Disorder makes me run Soooo Hot and then drops me on my doubtful butt. But it did, and here I am. Have I done what I said I was going to do? Well, yes. Yes I have. So that is good, I really have benefited from focusing on less! I have finished one of the pieces for the new INSIGHTS V call and started 2 more. I entered the Art of Possibilities Show in Missouri with 3 works, and finished 2 Grant applications plus am working on a third. And this third one is a doozy.
THE IMAGES ABOVE are of ‘THE DREAMING FOREST’ ©STMartin2022 (A New Work!)
I didn’t get the last three I applied for, but I’m getting better all the time at writing them. This new one I am having trouble writing, but that is ok. I AM REACHING OUT!! Oh, and I finished my Art Business course that the St Pete Arts Alliance gave me a scholarship for!
So, have I been working, and trying and FIGHTING for myself?
Yes! YES!! YES!!!! Making connections and forging ahead, breaking new ground in new and exciting directions. Learning new marketing skills and remembering old ones I had forgotten. Benefiting from taking little risks and meeting new artists.
Now that I have written this I am astounded at all I have accomplished in the past 2 months. I really am a creative Powerhouse! Cutting thru the choppy waters like a PRO! Go Suzie, Go Suzie!
There is NO limit on my creative potential! I can SOAR! Look at me go!!
one of my commissions from 2021 -
Will You Forgive Me?
I don’t know if I can…
Self Portrait 2014©SusanToddMartin Here I am again, laying on ‘the sick bed’. It’s my forlorn couch, a relic from the 70’s (in the most excellent and outrageous fabric one could ever hope to find) but alas, my dying body is taxing her. I say dying, and in a literal sense it’s true, in that all things living begin dying at birth, but that’s not my meaning here.
Where did this Skinny Young woman go? Why was she angry? Why wasn’t she jumping for joy in that Young body? I say my body is dying, but it’s immobility, as in the ‘death’ of energy, ambition, drive to do, see, create. Creative death. Self inflicted wound. Very deliberate. I knew when I dragged myself out of bed that I would do nothing but suffer today. Even when an opportunity for joy arose, I quashed it.
Susan Past ©STM2018 . I know exactly the game afoot, I know full well the grant application that awaits my attention. I know that I have a good project in mind- I even laid some initial groundwork out. Did these things help me keep my momentum going? Well…no.
kind of cool photo…but I’m still having my pity party so I can’t enjoy it. No! I’m still going to sit in this bucket of my own $#@% until I nearly miss the deadline, then I will run at the goal full tilt with sweat and tears flying off of me. In this process I will flay myself alive, peeling off each layer to offer up to the powers that be, showing them the very essence of me, turning this way , then that, to reveal my facets.
Me, Drowning in my own effluence…(Reaching Out©STMartin2017) Why do I do this? Lay in ambush for my own success? I have asked too many times and found only euphemisms. So today I quit asking. Today I start
FIGHTING.
One of the many versions of The Sentinel’s Prayer©SusanTMartin2018 I made myself get up, clean up, walk the dog, eat and finish a painting. I still have some fight left in me!!!
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An Artist’s Realization:
Stepping Off
What did I dream of then ? The freedom to create new art, better art than anyone had done before. I dreamt of sculpture, glorious-creamy-marble-gleamy sculpture. Human form expressed in visions of living flesh to make one weep.
Pushing the limits of what had gone before, finessing my gift to a razor fine point that would etch images so tantalizing that Albrecht Durer would be green with envy. I had no doubt in my teenage grandiosity that these goals were within my reach, I knew I was “that good”. All the tools were laid before me, I believed they would always be freely given by a grateful world, an appreciative audience who would grease my path to slide into the role of a modern day Michelangelo, only in female form.
KODAK Digital Still Camera 
Perhaps I dreamed a bit large, but how wonderful to entertain such beliefs! With no guardrails to hem in my imagination my art soared, with no thought to the cost of materials or the the limiting exhaustion that real world work brings.
Well, guess what? I am making those dreams a reality today. I found someone who is willing to give me a chance, an opportunity to learn from his experience. I gathered my courage and kept asking, even when it seemed like I was getting nowhere. After following up on a suggestion a local CAD artist made to seek out this artist (thank you Alex!); I am proud to say I am learning from metal artist Frank Strunk III.
My dreams are NOT dead, I AM following my passion. I have the drive and vision, now with a little funding I will be soaring again! Soaring! On riveted metal wings, in welded metal carriages, in sculpted hot-air balloons and on the backs of giant imaginary sea creatures! Watch me soar, man!!!
Out of the Gutter Art 
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