Out of the Gutter Art

Category: Recovery, Healing

  • Imagination LOCKDOWN

    Dear Friends, I woke up this morning believing the world was fine, normal. I had no thought of a world on lockdown for a few fleeting seconds.

    Dawn Moon in September by STMARTIN2015

    .   Then, as was wont to happen after my Mom’s death, the awful reality came down on my brain like a sledgehammer. It did actually stop me in my tracks in the hallway. A punch in my tummy that brought me fully awake: My world was indeed shuttered and sheltered in place. I couldn’t dash down to the donut shop to drink coffee and chat with friends, I could not go over to my elderly Auntie’s and give her a gentle hug.

    Regaining my bearings , and with a profound feeling of sadness , I finished my way down the hall to the kitchen. However, there was no longer any wind in my sails. I was just  tired…”bone” tired, as they say in Carolina .  My aim for the day now seemed to just be sleep, sleep and forget, sleep and dream of a new world, free from death.

    Before Reaching Out, Landscape of St. Lucie River at River Park Marina,Acrylic on Canvas, Susan T. Martin, 2016

    Suddenly I remembered I had to be somewhere! I hurried to hook up to my Sunday Meeting on Zoom, which took enormous effort as I had only 13 minutes to prepare. I washed and put on a dressin rapid-fire  succession , drank a glass of milk and flew over to my chair, just as the meeting started! Now I was with friends and loved ones. With gratiude in my heart I lifted my voice in song, then bowed my head in prayer-thanking God for the sacrifice He made by sending His Son Jesus to die as a criminal. To give His perfect Son so that we humans could have a chance to live forever and see our dead loved one’s  raised from the dead to join us a perfect world.

    .  My mind now soothed, my thinking set right, the day was now on track. Yes, I did go back to sleep afterwards, but it was a nap free from dread, and full of hope. My creativity  freed, my imagination is no longer on lockdown. I will paint my way through this, and the light of hope will shine thru in my art!

    Crossing the Delaware, Well Aware, acrylic on canvas, Susan T. Martin, 8/11/17
    Portals to Peace (detail of Legacy of Lunacy)Acrylic on Canvas
    Great Signs, Digital Paint File, $150.00

  • MAKING ART to QUIET MY NERVES!!!

    MAKING ART to QUIET MY NERVES!!!

    I don’t know about you , but I’ll starting to feel it…It’s like a weak electric current close to the floor , strengthening as each day passes… More awful news, more isolation and “distancing”-the current gets a little stronger moving to the top of my legs now. I’m getting antsy, and even though I have learned how to cope much better with my Bipolar Disorder-the tension is here. Little headache-y, a little grouchy, a little jumpy…a-search-for-sue-022crop

    .      Stress makes me hungry, and tired:  I slept all day. All day. I didn’t go to bed before 6a.m., but still. One reason I’m getting stir crazy is because I’ve been told to stay home, just like everyone, and oooooh, its aggravating to be told to do anything…But I want to help save lives, and I am happily doing it. However, Bipolar mood swings really seem to occur more when I’m isolated.  The undercurrent of sadness and negativity makes me want to eat poptarts, watch murder mysteries and worry…

    The Water Plant(detail)
    Plugged In, Digital Painting ©STMartin2020
    Lying in Wait

    I know what I must do: Work. On something-on anything, just like when I was in jail. If I have a project , something to engross myself in, then the anxiety can’t grow. If I don’t feed the elephant hourly negative news updates then maybe it will leave the room. Just like my Kiko-Dog does when he realizes the lunchmeat is all gone…

    Me, doodle?

    .  This is the perfect time, as day blends into day, to start on all the furniture projects I have scattered in every room of my house. I am foregoing jello molds for a while, and instead working on tables, chairs, lamps, headboards, murals on my sheds, my laundry room, in my bathroom and all over my back fence!

    KODAK Digital Still Camera

    .  I placed a huge order to Jerry’s Artarama, counting on my free Government Virus Check to pay for it. So instead of chewing the inside of my lip, I can do this:WIN_20200327_03_18_50_Pro

    And this:WIN_20200408_21_11_14_Pro (3)_LI

    And these:

     

    Hopefully I won’t wig out , because my mind and hands will be making beauty, soothing my mania, and preparing me for a future of unimaginable wealth when I sell all thus stuff !!!!

    Yep, Definitely Michaelangelo’s Reincarnation
    My Invite!
    My SOLO SHOW AT THE MOREAN!
    The Mighty Hunter
    So Happy to Be in CHICAGO!
    Susan Past ©STM2018

    Just a thought: I never want to seem insensitive to the pain and suffering of my fellow man. Not during these trying days, nor ever… But for me, for my sanity in coping with my own mental health issues, and depressive and manic upswells during stress, I MUST STAY POSITIVE. As an individual with PTSD, Rapid Cycling Bipolar Disorder and Complex Grief , it means my very life. This is my health regimen. My art frees me, my voice strengthens me, my faith saves me… I hope someone out there can glean a small token of comfort from the routines that help me, or from the art I create. Let’s keep pushing on! And, oh, by the way, my art is for sale! Yup, it really is!

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    Sleeping Sadie…

    *and don’t forget, if you need cheering up…there are always puppies!

  • A New Reality

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    The awful Pandemic we are living thru today reminds me of when I contracted Chicken Pox as an adult. While not nearly as deadly as Covid-19, I was very ill. I had a fever of 102.5 for a few days and extreme discomfort from the lesions(pox) that burst forth all over my body, in my mouth and everywhere else.

    This was a particularly distressing time, as my Mom was in the latter stages of her battle with Colo/Rectal Cancer. She was frail, sick from Chemo , but with the heart of an angel. Her loving hands bathed my fever wracked body with rubbing alcohol, which was an enormous relief. The experience of her loving ministrations  makes me weep to this day, 10 years later.

    .   Our Earth’s entire population of human’s is being ravaged by a deadlier virus, much deadlier. Bombarded with mis-information and outright lies, we are being toyed with by callous and profit obsessed leaders. And many of us “regular” folk are feeling betrayed, for we were raised to believe the power’s that be would save us from any danger, whether foreign of domestic . Why, there have always been new drugs advertised for any and every ailment that we had never even heard of, being touted and mass marketed in the middle of our prime time TV series! So what a dumbfounding shock to learn that our country has no plan, no surefire way to rally the population in a morale inflating mission to help every single citizen by a national united leadership.

    I am SO GLAD that I don’t depend on anyone but my Creator in these devastating times. No, God is not the cause if this disease, and He will ultimately be vindicated and the whole world will be a peaceful paradise with no sickness, no death and no mourning or pain.  I have found so much comfort and hope in the Bible,  I hope that you can also.

    One great way is to visit the website JW.org, where you can learn about God, his perfect Son, Jesus Christ, and about God’s promises that will come true. Today, April 7th , 2020 at 7:30pm Eastern Standard Time, is the Anniversary of the “Last Supper”. Jesus commanded that this meal be commemorated ever year, which you can participate in tonight. Just visit the website , JW.org and learn about God’s perfect son, Jesus, and how he gave his life to save all of us. To forgive all of our sins, and to help us learn how to live forever.    Thanks for listening with an open mind, I hope you find the love and comfort the only our Creator can give.

    (this short video is made up of photos in the public realm that I compiled in video format. Same with the music…)

     

    A Visitor to one of my Giant Zinnias
    Fifth generation (at Least!) red Amyrillis from Grandma’s House in St. Pete…
    Pop goes the Color! My Bouganvilla in full bloom(it is over 10 feet tall and 20 feet around !
    dusk, river park marina
    Fire in Heaven, c.STMartin2016
    Revelation on the Drive, c.2016STM
    Sailor’s Delight, c. STMartin2016
    Pink Dusk, c.Susan T. Martin

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  • Trapped in Time

    Trapped in Time

    Emotional Stuckness, that’s a common ailment.

    .  Irrational Mydeation, another common complaint.

    .   Rottenitude and a False Sense of Ineptitude can also add to the mix.

    THEN YOU ARE LEFT WITH THIS:WIN_20200113_05_42_25_Pro (2)Why am I who I think I am not? That is the question of the day.

  • An Awakening

    An Awakening

    Sleep has been a constant goal for me since I put down drugs and copious amounts of alcohol. Yet it has been the most evasive and endangered of species, teasing me with scattered glimpses of it’s eternal beauty. Oh, how I have longed for it’s soothing embrace, and so have everyone I have contact with; they also wish sleep would embrace me!

    .   The constant effect of losing this cherished companion is my surliness, my impatience, my wind-like changeability and undependability. Punctuality is no longer a quality I can claim, and it frustrates me greatly. Falling asleep in my oatmeal is also quite frustrating, as is stabbing myself in the eye with my mascara brush. Nodding off at redlights and nearly colliding with oncoming traffic are less than desirable effects of losing my Lovely Sleep’s company, also.cropped-fede7588-4d83-493f-9367-3fbffead6a841.jpg

    Bipolar Disorder, my particular breed of it, thrives on insomnia. The Manic high’s leave me strung out like guitar strings tightened to the breaking point, you can virtually hear my mind humming at high frequency when I walk into a room. The flying mouse-wheel of thoughts is now turbocharged , ready to escape it’s moorings and fly an oblivion my mind may never recover from. The longer she evades me with her unfaithfulness, the more my living quarters look like a battlefield, reflecting her absence in my life. WIN_20191220_02_55_24_Pro (6)_LI

    .  It truly is a war. The other end of the spectrum in this battle is THE DARK. Each day of the mania leads me closer to the brink of devastation. At times THE DARK and the mouse-wheel cohabit my being, bouncing my sanity as if a Rubber ball has been thrown full tilt into a narrow alley.

    . Then the fateful day arrives when my loss of Lover Sleep leads me to the pit, the abyss of THE DARK. It throws me in and pulls up the rope ladder in one fell swoop. Leaving me to stand waist deep in the most desolate places of memory. Abuse, Pain, Rejection, Rape, Loneliness, Fear, thoughts of Harm, Deep All encompassing Grief… They are all here, all come out from the darkness edges of this well of depression to shove and kick me about as I stand in the tiny spot of light that trickles down from the far above opening of this shaft of hell. WIN_20200105_13_55_45_Pro (3)

    The level of Muck rises as each long day passes, and unless I can find the toolbox my years of mental health therapy has given me, or if I can find that lifeline of contact with my support network, or best yet, if I can find a way to kneel and call out over and over to my Creator, begging for the strength to claw my way out, all may be lost. Anyone who has fallen down this DARK, knows how close it gets to oblivion at times…  

    .   Days can pass, this last round a month passed, as you can see by my lack of sharing here. The pen weighs a thousand pounds, the telephone a ton. At times my paintbrush is lost in the sediment, more often than not it is divine release. I let the Dark flow out of me and away, down from my battered heart and mind , then finally draining from my fingertips on to canvas, paper, cement block or found object. The level of sadness ebbs, I have the strength to climb and paint my way up the walls wet with my tears.

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    .  As the light gets brighter, the colors on my canvas turn from Greys and browns to lilac and magenta, then colors of light and freedom. A few minutes of rest in Dear Sleep’s embrace , a gift from above then the final push into the light. The glorious light of freedom of peace, bathing my psyche in cooling water, releasing the bondage of all those fears, flashbacks mental anguish.

    .  My Creator saw fit to give me another glorious day, and finally the strength to reach for help from my doctors, my therapist, and my lifeline of freeflowing art, color, shape and movement.

    Prayer for Magdallia, by Susan T. Martin 9 x 11 Marker on Board $50.00
    Last Years Insights II WINNING Entry!

    .  Finally, my quest is completed, my medicine adjusted, which I take gratefully. Now with this elixer (and a new bipap machine) , some calming music and grateful meditation on all my blessings I fall gently into Sleep’s waiting arms. I lay my head on her motherly bosom, which happens to be my favorite squish pillow, and off I drift down the gentle stream of happy dreams…looking forward to a joyful, rested Awakening.

    Another Garden Visitor, “Oleander-head Lady”…
    UNCHAINED, UNCUFFED, Mixed Media on Board, $400.00 (Available)
    So Happy to Be in CHICAGO!
    A Visitor to one of my Giant Zinnias
    Pop goes the Color! My Bouganvilla in full bloom(it is over 10 feet tall and 20 feet around !
    My first watercolor for Art Mundo’s Calendar Art Juried Show and Sale, accepted(sold)Susan T. Martin2016
  • Feeling at War with Myself

    Feeling at War with Myself

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    I have been languishing here, letting myself fall off the edge of sanity for a while. Is it physical?emotional?spiritual? No, not spiritual, for I feel close to my Creator. I just feel diminished, somehow, like my life’s blood has been watered down. Perhaps when the rainy season ends I will blossom again. Till then, my friend, bear with me…

     

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  • The Duality of My Artistic Self

    The Duality of My Artistic Self

    Depicting my own image has been a starting point my work from the beginning. As a child my drawings were always of female faces, although I never consciously realized these were reflections of me. Even then, in my earliest work, the duality of my nature is blatantly apparent.

    .  The faces I drew were always divided, half usually in darkness, or different in other ways. I did not know I was Bipolar then, I just had a burning need to express myself artistically. I was not properly diagnosed until I got clean and sober at the age of 35 after a drugging career that lasted over twenty three years.

    . I had always known I was different, I described the feeling of being “painted green”in a room full of “normal” folk. It was like having something tattooed on my forehead, a conspicuousness. When I dug into my diagnosis, learning all I could in the hopes of finally coming to grips with my self destructive life’s course, I could see all the familiar signs in the literature. It made SO much sense! Now, armed with my new sobriety and determined to stay the course on my psychiatric medication regimen, I set out to turn my life around-to leave the wasteland of my past far behind.

    .  There was a slight glitch in my plan, however. The new meds that I was taking had a very unwelcome effect. They dulled my creative impulses, they slowed my manic phases down to a crawl. Rather than my giddy highs and freewheeling episodes of excess that I had lived for, and that had been killing me, I was now just a level hum. No taught guitar string playing harmonics, I was now m e l l o w…Too mellow. Where were the bright colors, the whirling merry go rounds and my peals of crazy laughter? All of the sudden I was boring and frumpy, and immune to excitement. I actually slept…alot.

    .  This is the part of a healthy mental health regimen that causes so many Bipolar individuals to “go off” their meds…but I had lost that option when I decided to stay alive. I had to make this work, I had to stick this out, because the alternative was suicide. Whether thru a drug overdose or tragedy from high risk behavior, I knew that sticking this out meant my very survival. Would I have to be a zombie? Was my wildly creative side lost to me forever? What to do?

    .  Fortunately, I had a therapist (counselor ) who listened, and I had the determination to tell her my discomfort. It took the better part of two years, and many different drug combinations , much discomfort and many tears to find a plan that worked, but we did not give up. Finally, I felt comfortable in my own skin, most of the time.

    I still have highs and lows, and I am still a rapid cycling Bipolar person with PTSD. I still suffer from chronic insomnia and flashbacks, severe depressive episodes and ideation at times. But I never, ever want to destroy this beautiful gift of life, or to disrespect my Creator. It’s a long road, but the view is great!

    Now that all that is said and done, the point I was getting at was that at a point a few years ago, talking to my therapist about my art, and showing him my work I had an epiphany ! BI-polar, TWO-sided! All the faces I drew and painted had told the tale from childhood! As we continued to go through my portfolio, it came rushing home to me. I paint myself as I am, and thru my art I am able to understand and put together all my different facets! I am constantly learning, healing and growing as an artist, and I am

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    Self Portrait 4AM(detail)
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    Flashback 937(detail)
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    “Peckish”(detail)
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    “Mania Illuminata” sold
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    “Mania illuminata” sold
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    “Growth”(detail)
    100 MUST HAVE LOOKS FOR SUMMER JPG 5
    “100 Must-Have Looks”(detail)
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    “A Big Beak”(detail)
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    “yearning”(detail)
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    “Visionaria”sold

    so grateful that I did not give up on myself!

    .  If anyone out there is fearful of a mental illness diagnosis, please give yourself a chance to get well. Don’t be afraid to seek help, because I’m here today as an example of the kind of life that is possible if one keeps pushing on! You can feel better!

    Above are just a few recent examples of the many sides of my bipolar self I paint…

  • Evolution of Self 2008-2018

    Evolution of Self 2008-2018

     

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    My Life as a Doll, digital edit, 2018

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         Quite a Journey, this “Being Me”…These images only show a tiny portion of my different self images, and perhaps one day I will caption them. Right nowI’m just too, too tired…