Category: Confidence!

  • LANDFALL(In the Garden of my Father)

    LANDFALL(In the Garden of my Father)

    .  You know I like to keep working on my paintings, don’t you? I believe it comes from not having enough money for canvases , as well as not sketching out my paintings first, as well as total and complete impatience to put my idea down fast, for gratification. So I thought I would make a brief compilation to see what this work has gone thru on it’s journey to fruition… I will make a better video tomorrow… No sleep for me (again) last night…Can you say, “MANIA!!!!” It may Hurt later, but right now it’s SO EXCITING!! PAINT PAINT PAINT!!!

  • Fighting

    Fighting

    Cats outside, raising a ruckus, peeing on everything

    .   I wash it off.

    .   Dog inside, rolling with glee, woops! she takes a pee

    .   I clean it up.

    .   I’m so tired, clumsy and hungry, spilling my juice, ants come

    .   I kill them all.

    .   Round we go, round and round, cleaning and messing

    .   I am fighting.

    .   Was I born for this kneeling ?

    .   Cleaning up piss?

    .   Break my back, have an attack? For a hovel?

    .    A place like this.

    .   A place my very Own.

    .   Who are you, growing up rich?

    .    Drunken and spoiled

    .    Face down in a ditch.

    .    “Clean it up Joe, find you a Doe!”

    .      You kissed her, now Dad says

    .     “Get hitched.”

    .      You will hate her, yet deny it,

    .      Wishing you did not choose it

    .      Now you beat, berate, and tie her

    .    ( You can’t keep your wick lit.)

    .    It was too hard to comprehend,

    .    This awful struggle to the end.

    .    You see, the fight’s the thing,

    .   This is the madness our life brings

    .   It’s not the lovely picnic resting,

    .   But the jabbing and the testing

    .    The Cat’s reign ends in terror,

    .   When the rat’s the standard bearer,

    .    When the pigeon trumpets loudly

    .    ” Too much foreplay, much too rowdy”

    .      Lay down your arms,

    .     Your legs, and tiny minds

    .      Pursue peace, seek you’ll find

    .      Even in these troubled times.

    .      I am sad and very weary,

    .      Throw in the towel,

    .     Wipe your eyes, Deary

    .     The fight now over, lost and gone

    ,     Send the soldiers to their homes.

    .    Bruised and battered , torn and crusty,

    .    Their uniform so dank and dusty

    .   Where’s your fight now, wheres your medal?

    .    All alone upon the Pedestal.

    .    No more gallant hero jesting

    .   No more contact sport or testing,

    .   The battles over and we won.

    .   The fighting is now dead and done.

     

    .

     

    .

     

     

     

  • The Journey, a Debut Art Video

    The Journey, a Debut Art Video

     

    .  This project was a couple years in the making for me, and was born from the bottomless grief I was dealing with then. As caregiver to both of my parents after a 23 year-long active addiction, and after a devestating breakup of my marriage when my ex went to Federal Prison, I was an emotional train wreck. I had not been creating visual art except for private sketches and some mural work, but I made a smart move during those early years back home with my parents by purchasing a Surface Pro in 2006 with all the bells and whistles. As a result, I did have a creative outlet in the new digital editing and photographic capabilities of this amazing device.

    .  During the  long illness of my Mom, who was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer in 2007 (after years of passing blood but afraid to get a colonoscopy!!!!), I had much pent up emotion to release. Any moment of freedom I had was spent exploring the new medium I now possessed. I think I was at an advantage due to the fact that I knew no rules about photography, so I was very free to experiment and play. As a computer illiterate during my long years away from civilization, this was both hell and Utopia as I navigated thru the most basic techie stuff. But I was enthralled. I could take a photo and make it a work of art!

    .  Alas, my next 9 years were so pain-filled, as Mom’s cancer progressed she and I had to navigate colostomy’s and ileostomy’s and her suffering was so acutely mine that I wanted to die with her. And a huge part of me did, on the first day of spring in 2010, her birthday and day of death. I wrote endless prose and poetry, keeping her alive in words and rivers of tears.

    .   That seemed like a joy ride compared to nursing my father until his death. Dad developed dementia even before Mom died, and it became full blown Alzheimer’s afterwards. He also had prostate cancer which had been diagnosed 20years before but had never been treated. Years of violent outbursts and vile language and hate filled conversation poured out of my Father for the better part of Six years, and out of my warped sense of love for my mean Dad I determined in my heart to never let him go to a nursing home.

    During those years I had a catastrophic fall which injured my brain, neck, back, shoulder, hip and knee, causing me to undergo a 12 hour double neck and back operation so that I would only have one recovery and could be up and about within weeks to caregive again. Wow. Five levels in my neck were fused and a previous 3 level lumbar fusion was repaired and taken up another level. I had torn major cartilage in my hip, needed arthroscopic surgery there and in my shoulder, and also was left with a type if vertigo that still effects me on a regular basis 7years later! Oh, my. Need I mention my mental illness battles with rapid cycling Bipolar Disorder and  PTSD from a history full of childhood sexual abuse, violent sexual assault and rape as an adolescent and severe emotional and physical abuse due to 7plus years of Domestic Violence? No, I really had given myself a heavy, heavy load to carry with Daddy. But somehow I did it.

    62CE659F-0442-4C6E-94DD-F677F1D335D3
    For Our Lost Ones, “Cry Me a River” detail of larger work©susant

    .   I cannot describe the last weeks of his life, as there was a lawsuit and a non disclosure agreement with the establishment that hastened his death. But his last night was spent in a hospital bed at home, alone with me, while he screamed and pleaded with God and me to help him. For hours. And hours. The morphine did absolutely nothing so I covered my ears with my fists and screamed with him.

     

    WIN_20170724_08_18_38_Pro (2)

    .  During this unimaginably daunting, heart-wrenching and overwhelming time in my life there was a story on the news that just planted itself in my brain, because it was so horrific. A group of 27 immigrants were being smuggled into this country from South America. My video is my interpretation of what they went thru, and also a cry for compassion towards all who suffer such indignities and trauma.

    .                                                                                 Susan T. Martin