Out of the Gutter Art

Category: garden art

  • Yellow Belly.

    Yellow Belly.

    Red Jello. Green jellybeans…Green-Eyed Greedy Gut: runs around eating the whole world up.

    Red Beans and Rice. Red Eye Gravy. Red Bone Coon Hound,

    Yellow Rice. Condaleeza Rice. Yellow-bellied Sap Sucker. Red Robin. Red Skin Potatoes.

    Green Godess. Long Island Iced Tea. Rum. Lots and lots of Rum.

    Brown Gravy, Brown Eyed Girl…Skin Browned by the Sun. Skin.

    Smooth Skin, Tanned Skin, Supple Skin. Skin Head

    Random Words, Targeted Pain. Lasting Pain, Throbbing, Stabbing, Burning, Achy , Dull, Acute Pain.

    Red Yellow Green and Brown Pain. White Pain. My pain.

  • FAIL…SAFE?

    FAIL…SAFE?

    Stick your neck out. You gotta fail to win. Break a leg. And on and on…

    A new Hybrid Creation!! A physical 3/D art mask with Digitally Painted surround!! Cool, man! ©Susan T Martin

    Do you think of yourself as fearless? I used to think I was-when I was very, very drunk. Then I would cling to my “old man”, laughing like a lunatic, as we would race down I-26 at about 120mph on his old shovelhead. Whew…

    That is not fearless. That’s just insane.

    I was asking God the other day, to let me know what kind of art I should create. He did not suddenly give me skills like Michaelangelo, unfortunately. However, I share the same birthday with that marvelous personage. (Michaelangelo, that is…)

    God has remained quiet, and has allowed me to decide what to make. That is why he gave me an imagination. And a drive to put what I see playing on my internal projector out into the real world, for others to see. Sometimes what I choose to show is not pretty, but has some meaning for me. At times my work is mildly odd, at others it can be painful for me to see, because the images or emotions have come from a deep and scary place. This particular type of art can be very therapeutic for me as a survivor; I take the monster out of the box, turn it this way, then that, think on it a bit, maybe beat it up a little, and then put it safely away again.

    I feel strong after I do that, because I chose how to interpret the emotion, not the perp.

    I saw it thru my lens, from a distance I am comfortable with, and I share what I choose to share. When I am at my bravest, I am not considering what the viewer might think at all. That may sound counter-intuitive , after all, don’t I want to please the viewer? Coax them into buying my art?

    Aren’t I actually shooting myself in the foot?

    ( It really is going to be Allright, Mother…I will not starve…)

    I feel like such a big chicken when I create art to please the masses. Well, I don’t have “masses”, how about a ‘mass’. How about a ‘mess’? If messes were my main concern I’d be Uber famous, because I have messes everywhere.

    Anyway, I create art because I am an artist. It’s part of me. It’s not a job, it’s my identity, my natural state of being.

    Should I paint “safe” so as not to “fail”….

    I will create art, that is what I do. As long as I do this , I will always be ‘safe’ in the knowledge that I gave that which I have so graciously been given.

    Don’t let fear of failure cause you to fence yourself in. Find a break in that fence, gather your courage and break thru!! When you free yourself from the constraints of creating for someone else, your imagination will soar to great new heights!!

    This was one of those paintings that Hurt, as I was painting it… But it had to be done, for my own healing…

  • Starting Over, Over Again

    Starting Over, Over Again

                 Things will seem to go OK, when suddenly they’ll stop,

    .            Face in the dirt, there I lay-then poof! I am up top.

    .            This brain of mine, this machine, that whirrs inside my head,

    .             Makes the bells and whistles ding even when I lay in bed.

    .             I need relief, some way, some how, to quiet racing thoughts,

    Instead they throw some pills at me to make me who I’m not.

    I always knew I would wind up alone,

    .             Now that it happened, now that I’ve grown…

    .             It’s the worst pain I’ve ever known.

    .             Can you see me going mad in here?

    .             Can you hear me? Can you, Dear?

    .             There’s a slim chance, if you hurry,

    .             That all the scary things will scurry,

    .             That the sky will clear, the rain will stop-

    .             And once again I’ll be on top.

    Detail:Growth, Susan T. Martin
    “Mania Illuminata” sold
    Most Recent, “Growth!” by Susan T. Martin
    FRONT VIEW ( of a sphere?!?)
    Prayer for Magdallia, by Susan T. Martin
    9 x 11 Marker on Board
    Plugged In, Digital Painting ©STMartin2020
  • IN the DOGHOUSE

    IN the DOGHOUSE

    • MUNSON, embellished cement sculpture, (Award of Merit at Best of the Best Show at A.E.BACKUS MUSEUM2014)©Susan T Martin(Inquiries Welcome)
    • DOOR STOP or START? recycled Concrete Block©Susan T. Martin 2014(sold)
    • SELF PORTRAIT, (detail) ©Susan T. Martin2019(Inquiries Welcome)
    BLOCKY the ROCK HOUND, work in progress, Concrete Block and Rocks©STM

    Sigh… I’ve been feeling crappy… Really Awful… SICK. It has caused a pause in my production of work. There is this niggling worry, of course, about the big C, CO I mean…VID. I don’t believe this is it, am hoping very strongly that this is not it. The headache is from a sinus infection that seems to always correspond to this changing season. So, I have been fighting, on this front, for about a week.

    • Screen Siren
    • Kiko-Man!
    • Baby Klee
    • Commissioned Portrait
    • Commissioned Portait
    • Don’t touch my hat!
    • Kleopatra of the Nile, my big nose Baby…
    • coooooookkkie!!
    • Aiko Xoxo Izabella, Dear Heart, best Mom ever…
    THE DOG HOUSE GALLERY ©Susan T. Martin

    I rely so much on my little Kleo as a huggable, furry sounding board , having recently experienced the grief of losing her uncle Kiko last month. She became violently ill yesterday, and had to be rushed to the astronomically expensive emergency vet. Five hundred plus dollars and a day later she is stabilized, but I’m not sure I am. The running total on all my credit cards is the highest I’ve ever had, and the gallery I use has been virtual for months. Sales are nil for now, so I feel pressured to create a masterpiece . But I keep falling asleep with my paintbrush for my hand, and abstract ain’t my bag at the moment. Perhaps it should be. I could, in my stupor, lay a blank canvas on the floor by my couch and hold an open paint jar over it while I doze. Perhaps some nice swirly “pour”will result…( This is a JOKE. )

    • FIRE, BLOOD, SKY, WATER, 2nd Version ©Susan T Martin2009
    • The Guardian, acrylic on board,© Susan T. Martin 2016(donated)
    • Grouchy Grouper, Palm Frond and Pine Cone Fine Art©Susan T Martin2014
    • UNDERCURRENTS, ©Susan T. Martin2014
    • RUNNER THE CLOTHES HORSE-recycled Ironing Board, Couture Gown, Palm Fronds , Nylon Pantyhose, Grocery Store Bags, Feather Boas, Curtain Rods, Old Yarn over Chicken Wire Cage, NFS
    • GEORGE,©Susan T Martin (Inquiry Welcome)
    • COUNTRY CLUB STABLES, PINE CHEST (detail) ©Susan T Martin(inquiry Welcome)
    • NEVOA, 3rd Version©Susan T Martin 2011
    • Mural in Progress 2016©SusanTMartin
    • Intergallactic Dragonfly, mixed media sculpture©Susan T. Martin 2016,(sold)
    • THE MUTANT FROG BOX(detail)©SusanTMartin(sold)
    • The MUTANT FROG BOX, recycled vintage tool box ©SusanTMartin(sold)
    • ONE FISH TWO FISH RED FISH BLUE FISH, fine art Print©Susan T Martin(Inquiry Welcome)
    • FISH OF A DIFFERENT FEATHER “Outrageous Jello Mold” ©Susan T. Martin(sold)
    • ROUND UP, Palm Frond Art, ©Susan T. Martin, in progress
    • DANCE of ANDALUSIA,©Susan T. Martin2018
    • Babs the Crab©Susan T. Martin2018(sold)
    • Riley, Palm Frond Assemblage©Susan T. Martin2019(sold)
    • DANCE of the ANDLUSIAN fine art print©Susan T. Martin2018(Inquiries Welcome)
    • NEVOA, 4th Version©Susan T. Martin
    THE ANIMAL HOUSE GALLERY Animal Art from 2010-2020©Susan T. Martin

    The day before my illness I painted a new canvas, and I feel very pleased with it, even though my freehand jug is rather “interesting”. I do have more works in progress , soon to come to fruition as Kleo Pup and I mend. Yay. I mean, “YAY!!”

  • In My Room

    In My Room

    “Sleep to Dream a Dreamer’s Sleep…Let the Midnight Watchman Creep…”
    A step into a past full of Victorian Charm, all furniture and walls handpainted and restored…by me.

    your home is your place to dream, to find peace and rest. A cocoon, a safe haven, an island in the storm… a place to create, to define, to highlight who you really are-in your own space. Welcome to mine…

    I always lived with others, my family, my husband, friends… I expressed my own style in little flourishes, here and there. Once I got my own home, that I truly own, and no one else shares it with me….now I’ve been free to create my own space. Painting anything, be it wall, floor, furniture or canvas; at any time of day, in any colors, in any style!! There are days I sit here, depressed and immobilized. Then I remember to look around and be so, so grateful…

  • The Door is Wide Open

    The Door is Wide Open

    There are ideas percolating just beneath the surface of my consciousness. They are not fully fleshed out but the juices are flowing and I feel “on the verge” of a breakout work. What is a ‘breakout work’ you ask? Well, I’m asking too, and I believe there is a new direction coming.

    ideas under construction…

    I have been cleaning and gardening and remodeling while the first flickers have steadily growing in size, ready to flame up when the fully formed idea strikes. So I’m just stoking the fire now, setting my mind free to dream in big color…

    my garden calls me , more and more…and I’ve been gathering beloved and beautiful finds and setting them behind the house while this “thing” fleshes out. And it will.

    Oh, yes. It will…

  • Forgetting the I

    Forgetting the I

    Running full tilt thru each day

    leaves no time for reckoning

    no time to breathe or seek relief

    till exhaustion stops the flight

    feeling can be too intense

    too mundane-much to real

    icky sticky hugs and kisses

    that Hurt too much to feel .

    ” Renata’s Path” commission
  • I Miss What I Imagined I would Miss

    I Miss What I Imagined I would Miss

    this isolation is kind of nice, (she thought), it gives me time to explore my thoughts. But too much pondering of self is no good, (she thought to herself), it can get messy. Really, it is messy, all this thinking in isolation, (she remembered), because it makes me so sleepy, (she yawned), not doing the dishes, nor combing my hair, (she sighs), flummoxed, just flummoxed. I should try to eat something, (she groans), but there’s nothing here I want, (she moans) it all takes too much energy… e-n-e-r-g-y…(she sleeps…)Izzy's 3rd Litter Dec 16,2011 5am 026footsteps recede, door closes. 

    Ahhhh, fresh air… Curtains of pale yellow blow in the morning breeze. We know it’s morning, hear the cardinals breakfasting at the feeder. A nuzzle of cold snout under the hand leads to the opening of an eye: Here is Izzy, the proud mom, ready to show us her new brood.100_0306

    ” Good Girl Za-Za!”, we exclaim, thrilled now to sit up, taking a long draw on the crystal glass of water at our bedside.

    . “Hey, Kiki old-man! You gonna show us the grand babies?”3D0E4E9E-4112-4873-9B74-C8D27E8CE8F0

    .  Swing the legs over the side and stretch, then again before standing…

    “Show me!”.

    .  With that, off they dash as we stumble along behind, into the hall then into the den. We can already hear the tiny grunts and squeals as the teeny pups angrily demand breakfast.

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    “Get in there, Izzy!” She’s already in the basket, dutifully cleaning little backsides as they squirm and nuzzle in for a teat. “Good Za!”

    .  She gives us a look of pure bliss, eyes narrow and smiling with a mother’s pride. Not to be outdone, Uncle Kiko, gives a little nose-nudge to the basket as if to say, “I helped too!!”

    .  ” Good Boy Kiko, you’re a trooper, indeed!”

    In the quiet of the morning the scent of brewing coffee tantalizes our senses, and as we look up into the kitchen, there is Dad, in his Dad chair, reading the newspaper as he’s done ten thousand mornings before. He glances up from his cup, mid-sip, to wink and smile, mouthing a silent ‘good-morning’.

    .   We move down the hall towards Mom’s bedroom, still closed as she slumbers on. We can’t resist a peek, gently opening the door and gliding over to stand and caress her sleeping face with our eyes. She is so beautiful in her repose, a wisp of brown hair touseled over her brow. We must have made a sound, she stirs and the room seems to awaken with her, the birds chirp louder, the golden rays fall around her like the petals of an opening rose. She stretches, smiling, her hand reaches out to touch ours…

    Sailor’s Delight, c. STMartin2016
    Fire in Heaven, c.STMartin2016
    Susan Past ©STM2018
    Burning Sky, c.STMartin2016
    Passed On©STMartin2010
    Prayer for Magdallia, by Susan T. Martin 9 x 11 Marker on Board $50.00
    For Our Lost Ones

    It’s just a dream, just a dream. But it will be a reality soon. I miss you, Mom and Dad.

     

     

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