It is the white hot lead that throbbed in my spine last night. Coloring every second of every hour a bloody shade of red. The red from my bitten lip, the red of my sleepless eyes.
Why last night, when I’d been doing so well- doing so much so well ? Hmmm…let’s see….let us analyze:
Saturday: Ride horse.
Yup. There ya go, Dopey.
So now I am lying on a frozen bag of broccoli, contemplating a pain pill, contemplating calling an ambulance and wishing I had a gallon of chocolate ice cream and a liter of scotch. I haven’t had a drink in 21 years…but I gotta say, oblivion has a certain appeal right now.
And doesn’t it just figure that when I’m hittin’ on all cylinders in my art business; applying for grants, apprenticing to a famous sculptor, putting in bids on murals, putting paintings in shows and working on another-BRAINSTORMING MY BIPOLAR ” HEAD OFF-this, this is the week I decide to ride a horse.
Well, it’s just another day in the life. I wish I could avoid these conundrums, but that’s just not me. (on a side note, I just noticed that when you hit ‘bold’ and ‘italicize’ even the period dot gets bold. Ooooo….)
Any hoo… I guess that’s all for now. I have another grant opportunity I have to finish applying for by this Saturday, and tomorrow I go to the metal shop, so I better try to rest and see if I can walk in the a.m. Oh, wait, maybe I’ll look outside for a hippo to wrestle first! Sheesh!
(all that being said, I am creating a bunch of awesome art right now!)
KODAK Digital Still CameraKODAK Digital Still Camera
This Artist is changeable, like the wind. I dance from one canvas to the next, one substrate to the next in an endless flow of ideas. To stop the flow of creativity is to stop my heart from beating. My Art from beating.
Being bipolar causes duality of purpose in me, and in my work. SIMULTANEOUS urgings: High, Low, Sideways, Backwards; Round. And yet , somehow, a cohesive whole is made.
I AM STRONG TODAY. I AM FREE OF THE BAGGAGE OF MY PAST TODAY.
I RUN UNDER A SAILING SKY, WILD-EYED and BREATHLESS… there IS a way forward for me… I WILL FIND IT. MY ARTISTIC VISION WILL NOT BE DENIED. I AM GOING TO MAKE PUBLIC RECYCLED METAL SCULPTURE. IT WILL BE IN PARKS AND GARDENS, IT WILL CELEBRATE THIS GLORIOUS ACT OF LIVING.
Back when I was a semi-pro pool player I had a mantra, because I was a clinch player. I came back when I was down, and that can demoralize an opponent, when you can beat them. But it wasn’t about that, not for me. It was staying in the game, never quitting, never saying ‘die’.
This quote has been attributed to many, so I will attribute it to an anonymous kindred spirit:
“It’s not the dog in the fight; It’s the fight in the dog.”
I have tried to associate myself with the local metal sculptors here in St. Pete, I have offered my labor free, begged for apprenticeships, offered to be the coffee runner, the shop cleaner, the grinder… I’ve been here 4 years now, and I feel choked and thwarted.
I know I’m older, I know I’m a woman, I know I’ve got marks against me as someone with “disabilities”. BUT I’M STILL HERE, AND MY VOICE WILL BE HEARD. What I have to contribute HAS VALUE! I can work most men under the table, even in the shape I’m in. (Ok, I could work my ex-husband under the table, which isn’t sayin’ much cause he was usually loaded!! But I AM a very hard worker…)
I’m strong as an OX and twice as GOOD LOOKING!!
So, while I have been quietly seething here in Pine Bay, creating my works on canvas, on board, on paper…. Painting my recycled furniture and selling cute little cat pictures…. THERE is a SHE -TIGER here in this cage…and I have found a way out.
I am NOT giving up, I am not going anywhere, and I’m certainly NOT GOING QUIETLY!
So, whether you see me shooting across the sky on the back of a winged Andalusian Stallion, dashing past you in my ‘souped up’ Kia Soul, or building a mind-boggling , solar powered work in a local park, be forewarned…
The Waterplant, mixed media on canvas by Susan T. Martin(sold)
The torment of Immobility
Riding a wave, tall as a mountain, I rush headlong thru my day
One project done, the next begun:
All clarity-no haze.
The transition came, I know not when(wound up on my butt again)
I wandered thru today amazed:
No clarity-just dazed.
When does it happen/Why?
I did not cause it/Did I?
Now huddled under an ocean of covers, immobilized for days
Not project done, not even begun
Just futility-today.
Where do I go to/Why?
I do not cause it/Do I?
I rode a wave, tall as a mountain, rushed headlong into here
The vast Empty, the foreboding, feeling death is very near,
The quiet is not tranquil, the peace turns into fear
Will I find the will to struggle, will my vision ever clear?
I would not wish this on an enemy, nor even onto me
This terrible stuckness, it's inevitability
Knowing it will leave doesn't help it go
The pros say that will, but they don't really know
I will find my meds, somehow take a few
Sleep a dreamless sleep, tomorrow start anew
Hope against all hope, stagnation soon will end
I will be on top to ride that wave again.
Have you ever felt totally overwhelmed? That has landed on me today, a crushing weight, and I feel powerless. I like to forget my illness sometimes, and it is SO deceitful to me; top of the world for weeks, but It is always waiting. Just around the corner.
My cat Zagnut loves to play hide and seek, and he’ll leap out from around a corner, swat me on the leg and dash away, one hundred miles an hour. If I am cogent, I’ll dash after him, then retreat-to leap out at him in turn. The only problem is that “It” doesn’t let me play back. It just leaps out, when I seem to be doing well, latching onto me like a 150 pound panther, dragging me into It’s lair.
It’s dark in here, and smells of sweat and fear. I just know It is coming back, but I’m wounded. All kinds of nasty doubts swirl in my head…was I a fool to think I could be a sculptor? Why do I want to, anyway. Nobody buys my art, I’m a failure and the house seems to be echoing my mood by failing too. Leaks, creaks, holes, breakers tripping, no AC…I can feel that panther’s breath now…
This is not new, this trip down into It’s den. No, I recognize it oh, so well. I believe the worst is the immobility, standing frozen in It’s gaze and being unable to dash away. I know what I need to do, but the strength escapes me. The therapist I liked so well has left the building (literally), I know I can call for an appointment with the new one…but. I know that I get paid in a few days and the house won’t collapse any time soon…but. I know that I can call any one of many friends and talk, if I just pick up the phone…but. But but but butt head.
So I have done the one thing I can do without moving. I went inside my head, got on my mind’s knees, and cried out to God. You see, I know he is the ONLY ONE who can close It’s gaping jaws. He did it for Daniel and he will do it for me. I just have to exercise patience and make a tiny effort to climb out of this death trap of discouragement. It is It’s favorite tactic, because It knows that despair and feelings of worthlessness lead me to the edge of the abyss. And when I stand at the edge of a great hight it feels like I’m being pulled right over the edge. But my God hears me, he helps the broken hearted, and those crushed in spirit he saves.
I am able to write this, and that is my answer for today. I will not lose this fight, for my God is stronger that anything my illness can do, or anyone else, for that matter. Sure, my brain is wired different, science has proved that bipolar brains behave differently. What science forgets is the One who created that same brain.
I must have forgotten that for a minute, also. I will ride this one out today. And if the phone isn’t too heavy, I’ll call for that appointment. Thanks for listening.
Woo Hoo ! I am an artist WHIRLWIND again! Hang on, cause art is flowing out of me in a torrent, and I need more hands. I am happy to be out of “funk town” for a while! I entered six shows in the past month and now have 5 paintings accepted into these shows . Four of the five shows. I can’t believe how things snowball. The piece above is a Work in Progress, one of my Surrealist pieces, with a working title of Angry Birds, a little pun on the silly game people play on their devices. I’m rethinking that right now, I may put people off by that. But who cares if I like it, right? Naming Art is the Artist’s privelege. Kind of like children; you made it, you name it! And here’s a fun little twist…how many Birds do you see?
I painted what I believe to be my best piece as far as figurative art, it’s an acrylic mixed media piece which is a statement piece about justice and human trafficking…It is named “Stuck in Traffic (Framed) and I will post it, and the one mentioned above as soon as I sign them in a few minutes here… Be patient, I had to lie down for a minute. I decided a while back that I must sign my work before I post it online… Silly, really, you can’t stop the thievery no matter what you do, if you decide to post your art online. I recently read a piece considering the benefit vs risk of putting your art online. If you decide not to you are missing out on reaching millions of people, perhaps billions. If you want to sell your art, and/or share it with an audience, then the risk is one you must take. Unless of course you are going to let it spead just by word of mouth. Then it would take 100 years telling 5 people a day to reach 182,500 people, if they did not tell anyone else. If each one told 5 others then… wait a minute, you get the idea. It would take a long time.
Impressionism is my dearest love, and I hope one day to paint like Pissaro, or maybe Gauguin… Of course I have my own style, and I concentrated more on my brushwork in this piece, and multicolored skin to show my feelings rather than accurate realism. I especially love the dramatic shadows, I tried to be brave! Like I’m not passionate enough, right? I’m proud of the results! I will list all the shows I’m in in the next few days, with their websites and dates…
How true, how true that Pennsylvania Dutch saying is. I squander my art endeavors, rushing from this deadline to that, frazzled, befuddled and unsatisfied. That may be what drove Van Gogh insane, the constant turmoil to do better. I am making the presumption that perhaps the rapid cycling Bipolar Disorder that I enjoy(!) was somehow effecting him, too. Many artists share this mental illness, I know that The Ryan Licht Sang Bipolar Foundation has held Insights Art Exhibitions, to establish a permanent collection of works by artists who are effected by this disorder. I am proud to be one of the Founding Artists of that collection, and proud to know these beautiful people who have done so much to further research in the field.
Three years, three works of my art in this collection. It blows my mind, just as my art has been blowing peoples minds since I was a child. How easy I forget, and wallow in my mire. That is part of this disease also. The dark days, when no amount of internal dialogue can push me out of bed, out of the bleak landscape in my head. Do you think Van Gogh, or Matisse, or Dali had such dark times? What about Francis Bacon, Pollock, Warhol ?
Then why do I feel so alone in my efforts? Yes, I’m sure the worldwide pandemic has a dampening effect, on artists as well as everyone else. Perversely, I also treasure the isolation it affords me. No one can chastise my late hours, or visit to be aghast at the paint on my floor, on my walls, on me. I think I need to get out of the house more, go walk on the beach, visit a park. All things strange and alien nowadays. I know this will pass, I have been in counselling and under proffesionals care for my Bipolar Disorder and PTSD for nearly 30 years, I take my medication every single day, because I have been all the way down into the abyss and made friends with the monsters lurking there. Only to find out that they all wanted me dead. I don’t want to be dead. I can fully understand why I did, because this pain is all encompassing. I feel each cell screaming at me to give it relief.
Not too happy, guys…
The only thing I can do is paint myself into a painless reality, a utopia of color, a sweet dream of lavender and silk, a field of gold. When sleep won’t come I will disappear into the garden that flows out of my pen, winding its way into sweet fantasy-lands where no one is mean and there is no such thing as loneliness…
One just can’t help getting one’s hopes up when entering shows. You read the call, you think “Wow! Piece of Cake! That’s exactly the kind of art I do anyway!”
If , on the other hand I said, “Wow! That is one tough call. I WILL REALLY HAVE TO DIG DEEP AND PUSH MY LIMITS…” Now, this would be the scenario where I could create a masterpiece.
FRONT VIEW ( of a sphere?!?)
I recently entered a call where membership was a requirement… I have done this type before, but not when funds are low. Because now you have, not only the entry fee, but the membership dues as well. (It’s funny, non artists are often shocked that it ‘costs money?!?’ to enter an art show.) Well, this one seemed right up my “art alley”. I had experience, I had won shows like this before. PIECE OF CAKE! I’M A SHOO IN! (Or is it a Shoe in?) So I dove in. Headfirst. Knocked off a Statement lickety-split. Sent a sample of my work and the entry and membership fee without a backward glance, and it was just a week or so before they would notify me of my big check in the mail.
Ah….about that big check… Not only did I not win, I did not even qualify to participate!
Hear that hissing sound? Pffffffffffffffttttt….That’s the sound of all the air coming out of my big head. Oh, Miss Overconfidence, you not feeling so good, hmmm? Kind of sicklee?
YOU DESERVE THE LETDOWN, YOU GOOF!!!!
Yes, I know that now. I realize how nonchalant I was. I couldn’t even take the time to ask anyone how to send the entry in properly, so I sent the wrong sample work. Too proud to let the judges know I needed help. Such a big, fine, famous, sought-after artist like me!
My job, now that I’m done licking my wounds, is to dust off my britches and learn everything I can from the artists who did get in the show. Be a good sport, celebrate their success and do better next time. Every setback is a stepping stone to bigger and better things!!
(Just not too much bigger or better!)
Sigh…ANYhoo, I finally finished the commission I have been working on since the beginning of December. (whew!) The ‘million dollar by the hour’ painting…Now there is another learning experience. I had a mentor who was a top shelf oil painter tell me to start out charging 22 bucks an hour plus materials, as this was the wages for skilled labor at that time; and “don’t feel sorry for asking for what you are worth!!!”
Those wise words did not stick for some reason…every client is my “friend” and every “friend” wants a “deal”…So I run around making what boils down to about 4 dollars an hour and whining about being “cheated”. Nobody likes a whiner, least of all me. I’m always having to settle for cheap paint, cheap canvas, cheep cheep goes the birdee.
I have made up my mind (again) to work on art that frees my mind and my spirit. Not beholden to any one style or genre or “ism”. Art that celebrates my vision, my unique vision. Hooray!
Out of the Gutter Art 
You must be logged in to post a comment.