th I used to think so. Especially in High School. My mind was ablaze with boundary pushing content, just under my skin and ready to burst out in neon glory. Most days it did, and if I had a dollar for every cool doodle I left in that building I would have at least 500 dollars . I was going to say a million, but….
Me, doodle?
Chicken Head Guy
. No, seriously-why am I so stuck? So careful? Who really cares if I am different anymore? In the Arts it is desirable to be different! Many artists feel they need a gimmick or a persona to excite interest. That is not always the case, however it really helped me drop my self-consciousness.
NOTE TO SELF: Take pride in uniqueness, courage to explore, new and untried substrate and media. I must push myself to new heights. I want to. I am still that artist.
It is beginning to pain me, keeping all my hair in a nice, neat ponytail. It is time to set the locks free, jump up and down, scream like a banshee!! Roll myself up in Saran-Wrap and hug the world! Paint my body, paint my face, paint! Paint!
. PAINT!! PAINT!! PAINT, GIRL!!!
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I applied for a new grant today, and I have some prize money coming soon from the 2nd place award I won in “The Art of Possiblities” Show and Sale. These are certainly lean times for all of us. I am heartened by all the offers for grants and loans that can be found for all artists online, with just a few minutes searching. My advice is to just “Apply, Apply, Apply!!!” Fill out applications till your pointy finger turns blue!
Also, I have committed to walking more, getting outside and seeing! I will also write down 3 things I am grateful for each night before bed, and draw them. We mustn’t let our mind’s stagnate!!!
That’s a cheery title, eh? Yes, I’ve been wallowing again, in me muck. (as the Brits’ say.) I guess that’s what they would say, actually, because I have never heard Benedict Cumberbatch say he was wallowing in his muck. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I spelled that dashing young man’s name properly either… So now I can really wallow in it…me Muck, that is. (why this godawful computer wants to capitalize Muck is way beyond me, it also capitalizes Young. See?
“A Wee Bit Peckish”,detail
By now you have most likely discerned that this post is winding itself around my consciousness like my fairy python-mother, to the end of pinching my head off like you would a bug. Not me, I don’t pinch bugs’ heads off, no way. I freeze them. Especially grasshoppers which grow to monstrous dimensions here in South Swampland. I do not freeze them out of malice, or hunger, just a matter of survival for my broad leaved tropicals and dahlias.
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. In actuality I find grasshoppers rather endearing and one of my first works of art in 5th grade was of a lovely grasshopper. That was before I moved from the Allegheny Mountains just north of the Mason Dixon line to South Florida’s semi-tropical jungle of behemoth bugs. It really fakes you out down here, cause the hundred tiny-baby black and yellow-striped grasshoppers you see in your yard today are tomorrows’ five-inch long yellow-green monster’s that decimated your mango trees in ten minutes flat.
My hunting technique is to take a few (10) plastic grocery bags and race around my property swiping those suckers off my plants with ninja-like swiftness until I have about 20 to 30 per bag. Then, whoosh, seal it up real quick before they can turn those bottomless black orbs of eyes towards you to make your will turn to water. They plead in tiny high pitched squeaks: “noooooo” and “pleeeeze”. Don’t listen, whatever you do, because it’s all lies, if you looked like a plant they’d mascerate you like it was their aim in life.
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. After the big seal of the bag, I dash into the kitchen and whisk them into the freezer and slam the door. Then I get another bag and do it all over again until grasshopperville is no more. It may seem cruel, but when I used to raise saltwater fish and animals, the really top fish guys said that is a humane way to euthanize a fish, so I just assumed it would work as well with my grasshopper friends.
. The only downside is when you tell your auntie to help herself to a glass of iced tea and she reaches in your freezer for some ice cubes. When you hear her unearthly screams you know one of your critters has escaped his grocery bag tomb and decided to gasp his last in the ice cube bin. Sometimes you pull out the whole carcass, other times it’s just a random leg in the bottom of your glass.
. Ok…any questions? That’s where I’m at, I hope y’all are keeping as tight a grip on your sanity as I am! On that note, Cheers and Bottoms Up!
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
Yes! We all want to be a great “success” in our chosen field, and many artists have a clear idea of what they need to be successful. Speaking for myself, I thought success would mean the end of financial struggle, to a point. As a person with mental illness (Bipolar Disorder and PTSD for starters) and physical handicaps (use your imagination), I felt that my “happy day” would come when I could pay my bills and buy my art supplies, and eat what and where I wanted, with a few more bucks to put by.
I’ve been working toward that end for over 50 years now, and while my life has been unusual (to put it mildly), I fancied that with all my obvious creative talent my art would be sought after. Notice that I did not say “highly” sought after. No, I tried to be realistic-it would take some time to get well known, etc… Well, that day I envisioned, that “happy” future success day has not come. Big sigh, and big pity party…
. Wait. Just. One. Minute…
What am I talking about? All of my life I dreamed of a time when I could create my art whenever I wanted! I dreamed of pursuing My artistic vision! Did you, also? I have made that time for myself, I have chosen to pursue my artistic life no matter what my life circumstances. No time to paint? I get my paints out at 10 pm. some days. No where to paint? I live in a single wide mobile home, crammed to the gills with projects I’m working on! No money for canvas? I find things in the trash, at thrift stores, on ebay-cheap things that no one wants anymore- and I find ways to make them unique, colorful, extraordinary …
Success! From a Broken Cement Block!Intergalactic Dragonfly made of TrashGutters, Plastic Containers,Spaghetti Forks!An Old Patio Table!Recycled Everything!My Dream in ProgressMy Dreams Taking Flight!
. At this very moment, right now, I have no bread in the house. No bread, about a half cup of milk and some ramen. (Not the “Cup o Lunch ” kind with the veggies either.) Not to get too personal, but 2-ply T-P. (Feel your little butt tighten up?) Am I crying the blues here? Making myself seem a martyr? An arter-martr? (sorry, I just had a silly moment…)
. No, I am telling you that I AM a success. I AM AN ARTIST SUCCESS STORY.
. Let that stew a moment: A 50-something improperly-art-educated-disabled-crazywoman-in-a-run-down-trailer-park-in-a-flood-zone-with-no-homeowners’ insurance-no-coffee-using-2-ply-TP is a SUCCESSFUL ARTIST?!?
Woop woop! Yup, that’s me!
my idea of an artistic selfie!
. I have no looming prospects of fame, of a sudden, amazing “breakout” work, or even of a teeny weeny inheritance, but I am as happy as a clam in mud, happy as an accountant with a pen that works, happy as a rotund, pink, rather hairless, animal who squeals in a pile of feces!
I have chosen to live my Artist’s dream, to get up each day and paint a stroke, glue a something together, write a poem. I am not too broke to go get a gallon of milk or decent toilet paper, neither am I well off enough to buy the best brushes, or even decent canvas.
But I am an ARTIST. That is who I am, and that is what I make a conscious choice to do. Every day of my successful life. Hey, it’s wonderful to be on top, isn’t it?
. This is not just a litany of my own happiness with my art career, which I would define not really as a “career”, but as a life choice…No, I want to help YOU , dear reader, to see where your own happiness lies. What are you holding out as your carrot? What does your “success” look like? Are you, like so many, comparing where you are to what other artists are experiencing? Are you kicking yourself for not painting a still life, when that’s what Mr. Prize Winner painted in the last show? Were you let down when they announced the “winners” to the last member’s show you entered? (yeah, me too…) See what I mean? Are we longing for some recognition, some prize or award, another feather in our cap, while we miss the sensual sensation of paint flowing onto canvas ? Or the startling moment when that perfect shade of turquoise comes to life on our palette? Or, here’s one: The moment when you jump up saying ” Yes! I got it!” because the line you laid down is exactly where you want it to be?
. Yes, my artist friend, these are the true successes. I never want to be Michaelangelo wishing I was Davinci. Can you imagine? The creator of the “David” wishing he had painted the “Mona Lisa”? Thinking he was not a successful artist?
. Let us remember this wonderful gift we have now, and revel in it, delight in it! Then all of our art will be successful.
HELLO RILEY! long time no see, kid! This is Riley today as of 9/19/19, with SO much Detail! He’s a doozy!
An Update on our dear friend Riley! We have not forgotten him, nor any of our multitudinous works in progress! Perhaps if the Artist could just focus her efforts on ONE project at a time….?…
But what fun would that be?
A close up of Riley’s Jewel-Encrusted headgear! He is Royalty, after all!
Here is a first look at my new metal sculpture, “Praying Praying Mantis”! I am so excited about this effort, it was my first time welding and plasma cutting, which I did freehand. I absolutely LOVE the medium, and hope to incorporate more metalworking into my portfolio in the future. I hope you enjoy!
I found this little post in my recycle bin… My “Praying Praying Mantis” has been standing watchin my garden for the past 3 years , praying for humans to take better care of his habitat!
Intergallactic Dragonfly, mixed media sculpture,Susan T. Martin 2016, sold
Here is another sculpture of mine, from 4 years ago, from which I coined the name ” Out of the Gutter”. I have every intention of making more gutter sculptures, I just have to find a way to construct without using toxic glues… That is why I learned to weld, but I never did get a machine…
I used to think so. Especially in High School. My mind was ablaze with boundary pushing content, just under my skin and ready to burst out in neon glory. Most days it did, and if I had a dollar for every cool doodle I left in that building I would have at least 500 dollars . I was going to say a million, but….
Why am I who I think I am not? That is the question of the day.
An Update on our dear friend Riley! We have not forgotten him, nor any of our multitudinous works in progress! Perhaps if the Artist could just focus her efforts on ONE project at a time….?…
Out of the Gutter Art 
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