Out of the Gutter Art

Outrageous Bipolar Expressions

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I am an Artist, Poet and Author. I am so much more than this: I feel like a tiny seed that sprouted in a desert, and now has grown into a Passion Vine. My Art is my Voice, Screaming, Crying, Praying, Loving, Laughing, Healing- all in Riotous Color…
  • Fear of Falling (failing?)

    Fear of Falling (failing?)

    • 76ffa3807cc44b63a98d60a087d9fe8b
    Ah, yes…The Lion’s Den

    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.

    The Rummage Sale, w/p ©STMartin2021

    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…

    In the Lair, w/p ©STMartin2021

    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.

    Inside Voice #2 ‘Not Quiet Down’ ©STMartin2021

    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.

    Peach Trumpets ©God

    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.

    “Growth” ©SusanTMartin2021

    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.

    Inside Voice #1, “Can You Hear Me Now?” w/p©SusanTMartin2021
  • The Kitchen Drawer, a short story

    The Kitchen Drawer, a short story

    Dreaming of daisies and butterfly gardens, I find myself running thru mazes and tunnels, sure there are blue skies somewhere above ground…

    How do I get there -Is it safe to come out now?

    Deep in the cellar of abysmal memories, I remember a guy who pretended to love me.

    Remember the father who left without leaving-a mother whose mothering I would attend to.

    The weather has taken a turn for the grey. Icky, foggy, similar to brain matter…if I just lie down for a minute, I will just rest here…

    …the dream begins…

    Whats for Dinner, Mom? Aw, carrion again?

    The girl stands in her yellow kitchen. Her husband will return soon. Boring old Jed. Why did she marry an accountant? She wonders at times if she ever mattered to the one she truly loved:

    The windows need cleaning, the tea has grown cold-cold like the heart, cold like the hearth.

    Cold, blue steel-a dead weight in the hand; Cold, dead stone in the heart of a man.

    ( Sing mockingbird, sing your bright song , sing of such joy can you bring me along?

    Top of tall tree, float over hill, please let me join you, oh sing, if you will!

    Remind me of meadows the smell of fresh hay : we’ll gallop, we’ll frolic , we will dance, we will play!

    Gentle moonbeams gather far over our heads, a blanket of bluebells will cover our bed.

    hands needing holding…

    Hold me till morning with kisses on lips and hands needing holding in the tenderest grip.

    My head lays upon your ever-strong chest, “You’ll never leave me-no not like the rest.”

    “I will not let you”, I scream in my pain, ” you will regret ever straying again!”

    “Let darkness fall- you will not run :You’ll know my rage from the end of this gun…”)

    ****************************************************************************

    Yes, maybe I did matter, the girl muses…sighing, she wraps the revolver gently back up and tucks it deep under the kitchen towels, bumping the drawer shut with her hip.

    solar bipolar art lamp, 2022. sold.

  • Where I am in my Art?

    Where I am in my Art?

    I am Where? In my Art.

        Over here, Over there, everywhere I am, I am.

       Good ol’ Susie made some art-Where art I? Art I? Oh.

       I have never hired anyone to sit for me. My people who people my canvases are The People who people my mind. Here a people, there a people, every where a peep hole, people.

    People . What a funny word, especially when you write it , many times, in the same sentence.

    The same sentence.

    Oh, what a sentence it will be.

    “The Crowd in My Head”.digitally painted paper collage, Susan T. Martin, 2015

    How I do struggle, with all the Angst pushing against the walls of me, like a giant Volcano Person.

    Do you feel me? How can you? I’m over here and you are Way, Way ……..over there.

    This little Ditty is entitled, “The Reckoning”. ©STMartin2011

       I loved my father, my hated father. Oh, how I love him still. He could do no wrong in my eyes. Oh, but how wrong he did. A hater of some, lover of others…my mother? I’m not sure. Sure, they loved. But did they LOVE? 

        I’m sure I did. DID WHAT? loved. Your Father? No! But, yes. But NO , not like that

       I loved him like you love the most beautiful rose-way down in the middle of the thorn bush. So beautiful, so pristine.  20210419_203149SO UNTOUCHABLE, UNREACHABLE, unlovable in his lack of love output. He was so put out, when asked for love. Not as put out as mother, though.cropped-image-4resize-flashback1.jpg

        OH NOOO! Mother was the furthest put out by an outpouring. Oh, no don’t pour it out on HER. Eww, you’re sticky, get your dirty hands OFF… Ew, you are making me HOT! ….Eww, Susan Todd, you are so HUGGY! What makes you so HUGGY?!

      You are JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER. (no, mother!) You are so DIFFERENT from YOUR BROTHER . (but, how mother?)WHERE did you COME FROM? (you, mother?) 

    WIN_20170815_11_19_02_Pro
    Reaching Out, acrylic on canvas, Work in Progress, Susan T. Martin 2017

    Sent from Mail for Windows 10

    Did they really LOVE?

    Do YOU ? Really , Really ??

    “Synapse Miss Fire” ©SusanTMartin2019
    ” Flashback #937″ (detail)©STMartin2018

  • A Lifetime, How Long is It?

    A Lifetime, How Long is It?

    What does forever mean? How long is Always?Will I have time? I BETTER GET BUSY!!!

    A Short but Powerful Bio!

    I go thru cycles. They drive me crazy.

    One day, full of confidence, I march around around the Art’s district like a strutting peacock. Well, a lady peacock. That would be a peahen. (But peahens are drab little wenches…) You get the idea, puffed up, prancing around with my nose in the air. Never mind that I’m rapidly approaching the middle of my lifespan, to put it gently! At the time this is happening, man, I am a real smart cookie, top of the heap. An elevated sense of self, one might describe it…

    “Party Girl”©STMartin2021

    This feeling may stay a few days, a few weeks, a few hours. Or ****pfffft****an instant. In the midst of it I have no sense of “OMG -don’t say that you sound like a fool!” or the milder , “What?!!Have you lost your mind, Susan?”and if I did, I don’t think I could stop me. And if I can’t stop me, nobody can. At least I’m clean today, if that’s any kind of consolation… Come to think of it, that probably makes it worse, not better.

    In Plain Sight/ Insane, Right? ©Susan T. Martin”The Party’s Over”

    If I had been wasted, that might make my odd behavior more acceptable! What an enigma! Wrapped in a dream. It really is going to be OK, though. I’ve felt the embarrassment of rapid cycling moods before, and will again. It’s part of the strange landscape of my bipolar inner world. Like walking on the Moon on acid. (Not that I would know…)

    Nope, Don’t know nothin’ about trippin’…
  • Just Another Artistic Wednesday!

    Just Another Artistic Wednesday!

    Roll on Cupcake! Since this month is designation Sexual Assault Awareness Month, or SAAM, I decided yesterday to work on boosting my Art Health. So often my negative self image creeps into my work…

    A Little Self Absorbed Angst Here

    I am a big fan of Egon Shiele and his work, and in many aspects feel a sort of kindred spirit-especially when viewing his self-portraits. While my style does not compare to his in most aspects, I find it satisfying to bare my flaws in my art. Also, not being able to afford live models, he used someone he always had on hand, himself. I don’t know about you guys-my work has always included much introspection.

    Egomania? Or just working out deep emotional questions about my own psyche, in order to understand what led me to such despair in my opinion of myself? I lean towards the latter, but recently read somewhere that all artists are egomaniacs. Surely I’m not, I’m too nice!

    Like I Said, Nice!

    After careful study of my shape now that I turned ?7, I have embarked on a new eating/ exercise/living plan, as of right this minute (wiping the sugar-free-butter-free-bland old oatmeal off my little greedy face…) I know that I will feel better, like when I lost 70 pounds in 2013-2014… I had much more energy and my bones hurt so much less!!

    New Life of Hope!

    So, I will probably be a little (more) grouchy, but hopefully much more productive in my artistic endeavors. I have an Etsy Store open again, and some works available right this minute: Get Em’ While You Can!!!(free shipping too, whoo hoo!)

    I have more of my Outrageous Jello Molds nearly finished, they will be up in my shop soon!

    The JELLO MOLDS, revisited…

    We will see where my new endeavors lead, but just for today, I am happy-and hopeful!!

    Things Are Looking UP!!^^^^

  • Eating Art

    Eating Art

    Out of the Gutter Art

    I eat a lot of my art. Great flow, free strokes, endless imagination…stuffed in my spare bedroom.

    “What spare bedroom?”

    You have a right to ask, especially when the door is always shut, the cat box takes center stage, there is no sign of any bed and the entire perimiter is taken up with painted furniture, sculpture, assemblage and canvases. As well as various and sundry art supplies.

    Some of the Offerings in my Art Restaurant

    I cooked this up for a Month…

    Just a Snack

    There may not be food in the fridge, but there are tons of things to eat. I had such high hopes, you see. When I first began showing my work in earnest it was too easy. I started small, modest-like, in a gallery space I had never heard of. Actually, even though I had lived in Fort Pierce/Port Saint Lucie for over 30 years…

    View original post 449 more words

  • I HAVE DONE THINGS

    I HAVE DONE THINGS

    HAVEN’T YOU? HAVE YOU DONE THINGS TOO?

    ARE YOU SURE?

    I am not Ashamed. I thought it was THE THING to do.

    • “Door Stop or Start?” Painted Concrete
      ©STMartin2015(Sold)
    • “Door Stop or Start?” Painted Concrete ©STMartin2015(Sold)
    • “Ship of Fools” Mixed Media Assemblage ©STMartin2014
    • “Ship of Fools” Mixed Media Assemblage
      ©STMartin2014
    • “Runner, the Clothes Horse” Ironing Board, Prom Dress, Pantyhose, Socks, Grocery Bags, Palm Fronds, Feather Boas ©STM2015
    • “The Lemon Tree Box” ©STMartin2019(Sold)
    • “Grouchy Grouper” Assemblage using Palm Fronds, Pinecones etc…©STMartin2016
    • “Riley” Mixed Media Assemblage using Palm Fronds(Sold)
      ©STMartin2019
    • “Munson” Mixed Media Assemblage using Personal Vintage Fine and Costume Jewelry
      Award of Merit in “Best of the Best” at the A.E. Backus Museum2016
      ©SusanTMartin2016
    • Intergalactic Dragonfly made of Trash ©STMartin2016(Sold)

    So, these are some of the “Things” I’ve done… I just couldn’t keep them to myself anymore…I’m sure I have done more, and will undoubtedly do more in the future! Try not to be too shocked…

  • Deliberate Insomnia

    Deliberate Insomnia

    why? Why won’t I go to bed when I’m so tired I can’t see straight? I force myself to stay up, always surprised at how late(or early) it really is.