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  • GRINDING AWAY

    GRINDING AWAY

    Progress, not perfection.’

    Who said that? I hate you, whoever you are. Because I…WANT…PERFECTION!

    The Earth keeps spinning on it’s Axis, and my mind keeps spinning like a mouse wheel. A recent medical issue charges my thoughts with negative ions, even with semi-positive news reports… Nothing to see here, folks. Let’s keep moving…

    Relevance…that’s the Key!

    You do understand, don’t you? I stay up all night, retouching retouched areas-only to get out my tiny sander in the dawn and set that banshee loose…Reducing to dust all my night’s toil.

    Struggle…Fight…Grapple

    It doesn’t look like this now!!! AhhhhhhHaaaaHaaaaa Haaaaaa!!!!


  • Eating Art

    Eating 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, I had only been to one(1!!) Art Gallery there.

    Twenty three years of active addiction and utter chaos had stunted my artistic growth, even though I still considered myself a ‘gifted’ artist. Hah! If ever a gift had been squandered…well, you know the ole sob story. If, If, If. Poor me, pour me a drink.

    My life only really began at sobriety, my little artistic endeavors after high school and still totally gonzo had amounted to some really bad free-hand tattoos in a state where tats were illegal…(“Is that a vulture, or an eagle, dude?” ” I don’t see a Black Widow, it looks more like a Tick!”) Thank God I didn’t sign them, whew… Oh, and an attempt at freelance Sign painting for a Crackhead who had somehow acquired enough money to open a “Bar” in a very old, abandoned Ice House (yes, these did exist) along a very old , abandoned highway in the deep, dark, old abandoned South. It was going to be named, remarkably, “The Ice House”, and Mr. Tavern Owner/Crackhead had a brilliant idea for his sign(…or was it my idea? Ah, well, gimme another hit and pass that ‘shine over here…)

    Yes, you guessed it: ICE. Not just any old ice, either. No, this 4′ x 5′ sign was going to have an image of an ICE Machine !! And a Penguin in a striped hat and scarf getting ICE out of it!!! And, to top it all off, (wait for it…..wait for it…..) I was going to letter it without laying it out first…Freehand!!!

    WOW, was this dude getting a deal, right? He could have paid me with dope, it’s so long ago(thankfully). I guess for that part of the world talent was hard to come by, but I happen to think if a deer had #@$! on that piece of plywood, it would have been way better!

    Anyhoo… Done deal, and I even got an extra 50 bucks to hang it. I know what you are thinking…I should have paid him 50 bucks to burn it.

    So right there in old South Cackalackee hung my little rendition of a drunken Penguin inviting all to come get snookered at The Ice House! Fortunately, the Owner blew all his money at The Crackhouse before the ribbon cutting, so aforementioned sign was taken down and used to board the place up…with the blank side facing the road, of course…

    This was going to be more of a three-course post, but I have depressed myself now. So I am going to sign off and flop on the couch with a couple of my decadent Pumkin Scones I just made. Now they are a Masterpiece!!

  • RESOLVING THE COMMISSION DILEMMA

    RESOLVING THE COMMISSION DILEMMA

    Stuck in the Barnyard

    OLD McDONALD HAD A COMMISSION…Oh no, Oh no, Oh no……”

    The First Draft of “The Dreaded Barnyard”
    One of my Trippy Palm Frond Creations

    So, I had a “Patron”, and I am envisioning a relationship similar to Michaelangelo had with The Pope.. Endless coffers, freedom of expression in my own magnificent style, expensive dining and and more and more projects to work on. What a dream come true! I even mentioned to this kind person and lover of my art that I would give her privledged pricing on all future projects! Why not, right? I was on the gravy train from here on out, the best brushes, high quality paints…maybe marble or a bronze sculpture…or a glorious garden full of exquisite welded work! Ah, I basked in the glow of this fantasy, every artist’s dream!

    THE BIRDHOUSE RACKET

    Don’t get me wrong, I like money…I don’t yearn for riches like some do, which is a good thing because I would spend my life disappointed, but I do like to earn money. It validates the work I do, and it also buys good hot cocoa. So, every now and then, when I want to market my work directly, and it’s not stuff I want “too much” for; I resort to online marketplaces. To make a quick buck I’ve been known to paint palm fronds with funny animal faces for people to stick out in their gardens, and I’ve turned a quick buck…or twenty. In the recent past I painted and sold four or five birdhouses that I knocked out pretty quick, and sold them on Facebook marketplace…I was pleasantly surprised at how they were snapped up. “woohoo” ten bucks here, fifteen there…

    I know what you think…you think I am ungrateful. That anyone with a talent like this that can make a dollar should not scoff at that ability. Believe me I am SO grateful. That’s not the issue. I made the choice to undersell, just to get that dough in my hand fast, I know that. Let me finish…

    So, off I go (one day last month) to meet a customer for a sale. For good measure I loaded up a bunch of do-dads I had accumulated, thinking I might do some “suggestion selling” (Thank You Business Certificate). To my delighted surprise the person did buy more than one item! Not only that, they asked for more! I was tickled, really. So tickled, in fact, that I wrote a post about my new found angle on artistic marketing success! I rushed home to make more, but decided on a nap instead…

  • Forgetting the I

    Forgetting the I

    A wee flashback

    Out of the Gutter Art

    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

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  • In His Eyes

    In His Eyes

    My Dad had many facets. If I only saw the ones that shined like diamonds…is that so wrong? I spent my tiny days laughing in his orbit, his aura was warm. I remember sun like the God Apollo , All eyes gazing on him, adoringly. Including my eyes. He already was ignoring Mom when I came along- was it her fault she did me wrong?

    I know what it felt like when his gaze looked away/ a cold, freezing day nowhere to stay. Why didn’t she flee, and take me’

    How can you run from a magnet? Even if you start out as strong as iron?

  • Dreams into Reality into Dreams

    Dreams into Reality into Dreams

    Does it matter to an art collector what the artist was experiencing in her mind at the moment a work was conceived? Or is the final product just that: A product. I have watched a Documentary about Francis Bacon’s  desire to be recognized as a “real” artist, and it explained that he was very downcast after his first efforts were blown off by the art critics. He kept painting and finally produced those groundbreaking paintings of tortured, animalistic, humanoid creatures that blew the critics away! Suddenly he was a genius, although he really had always been.

    Did it matter what was in his mind, what his “mental state” was at that time? Of course his lifestyle was picked apart, and pondered over, this way and that, ad infinitum. Perhaps this is only relevant to art that delves deep into the inner sanctum, the unseen and unclean, the new and outrageous. Does a tranquil landscape of pastoral peace spawn a probing into the creator’s psyche?

    .   I think the question I am really asking is , is my art relevant? Do people need to know my mental health status to somehow “explain” my work? Does it matter? Can my art be taken just at face value, or is it’s “worth” dependent on my diagnosis? If you are observing a work that stimulates you, isn’t what matters only what you feel?

    I share my diagnosis in the hopes of encouraging others whose lives are turned upside down by this illness. Or am I just using that as a crutch? An excuse?

    . Why do I have to think so much?

  • It’s Just Me…

    It’s Just Me…

    Not Famous…no where near it… Glad of that, today. Happy inside my little cottage, warm and contemplating making a dessert recipe. Maybe I’ll share it with my Friend across the way, she’s a true friend.

    Thinking fuzzy thoughts about my Mother, Carol, today. Remembering her smell, her feel when I embraced her. The soft place between her breasts where I would lay my head as a child. Mummy…

    She was always hiding…her emotions, her loves, her hates. Hiding inside huge tee shirts and under handmade afghans-waiting for that rotten husband of hers to say or do something kind… Hiding because he was never kind…

    I grew up a cross between the two of them: Needy and uncertain juxtaposed by selfish and unkind. A brutal mix of warring selves, hating myself more than the world, then hating all the world and myself.

    Brittle and broken around the edges, warm and soft in the middle-like a cookie baked at too high a temperature…

    I had run hard, played hard, fought hard and burned out, the crumpled package of me still held a broken and beating heart. My God reached in and ever-so-gentle pulled me out of the fire. He helped me as the layers of the skin I had worn sloughed off, he brought me across vast deserts filled with the skeletons of my broken dreams, over pits full of the venom of self-loathing…He bandaged my broken hands that had beaten down my own hopes, and placed me gently on a bed spread with forgiveness and love. He pulled the covers over me like the wings of the Eagle and He held me fast with ropes of loving kindness…Oh how I love him now, how much his love has filled me. I don’t have to hide, because I am healed, the scars on my face have faded. The scars on my heart remind me sometimes that I have to stretch out further than some to forgive…

    When you work at a scarred and injured part of your body, you have to rub it and work it over and over, over and over to break up all the scar tissue. So when our hearts are hurt it takes working at this loving, working at this forgiveness, working at this gratitude to learn to expand our hearts again…to open our hearts wide…

    Passed On©STMartin2010
  • AM I FAMOUS YET?

    AM I FAMOUS YET?

    Always seeking New Horizons, Learning, Growing, Never Stagnant !!!

    ARE YOU READY TO LOOK THRU MY EYES?

    Did I really want fame? Maybe when I was 13 and dying to “Be Someone”. Telling everyone I was born on the same day as Michaelangeo (I was), like it meant I was as good as him (it doesn’t). I just wanted to be SEEN!!!!! NOTICE ME!!

    Full of TEENAGE ANGST AND ANGER, HATING MY CIRCUMSTANCES, THE INJUSTICE OF IT ALL…WANTING TO PROVE SOMETHING, TO SCARE PEOPLE, ALL TO PROTECT THE HURT AND FRIGHTENED CHILD I was inside.

    I PAINTED ANGRY, SHOCKING THINGS: DEMONS, GORE, DEATH, RAGE, VIOLENCE…I WAS A REBEL , FORGING NEW GROUND…NOT KNOWING THOUSANDS OF FEET HAD GONE DOWN THE SAME ROAD DAYS, AND MONTHS, YEARS AND CENTURIES BEFORE….

    NEW WAS OLD, I WAS CRAZED AND VICTIMIZED, DRUGGING MYSELF TO EASE THE PAIN IN MY HEAD, THE TEAR IN MY HEART, THE LOSS OF MY INNOCENCE…MY ART WAS MORE RADICAL THAN whose? My classmates? So what, I was in some obscure high school in Pennsylvania, I was not working as an apprentice to DaVinci… WHO DID I THINK I WAS?

    The baddest of the bad, I would get higher, drunker, do more crazy deeds, fight with the boys, flirt with abandon, try to inflict the most pain on my family, but mainly… INFLICT SUFFERING ON MYSELF.

    MENTAL ILLNESS…DOES IT MAKE ARTISTS GREAT? It makes Mentally Ill artists lonely, lost and suicidal, just like everyone else. But in my mind NO ONE HAD EVER HURT LIKE I DID. I WANTED YOU ALL TO KNOW. I WANTED YOU TO REALLY FEEL THE PAIN TOO…isn’t that what GREAT ARTISTS DO?

    So I ask again… Am I famous yet?

    ARE YOU READY TO COMMISSION A MASTERPIECE?

    Contact Me: (727)541-6808 US

    outofthegutterart@Gmail.com

    Detail of “FLEETING”, my third work to be included in The Ryan Licht Sang Bipolar Foundation Permanent Collection

    Ready? Set? GO GO GO!!!!!!

    “FLASHBACK 937″ Mixed Media on 28″ x 24” canvas, Price Upon Request
    Detail, “A Wee Bit Peckish” Mixed Media on28″ x 24″canvas by Susan T. Martin (Price Upon Request)

    The Painting you see on the left is inspired by the Battle for Hill 937 in The Vietnam War, which I relate to in my experience as a survivor of my own Battle for survival , my Hill being my own body and mind, my enemy being my abusers.

    The next Image is a Detail from a Self Portrait, depicting my inner Bipolar Struggles…(Price Upon Reqest)

    A Palm Frond Fish!

    My “Spring Hearts” Jello Mold in The Ryan Licht Sang Bipolar Foundation Collection!

    No Canvas? How about my Rickety Fence?

    Climbing Out (Detail of Larger Work) ©Susan T. Martin

    “AD INFINITUM” Mixed Media on Gallery Wrapped Canvas by Susan T. Martin (Price upon Request)

    Would you like to become my Patron? Any and all help is most appreciated…I have so much to give and, very often, no funds to create! Lack of financial stability has made me experiment and have success with many new substrates and methods! For example my “palm frond” critters and “outrageous jello molds”… But, OH, want could I do with a LARGE CANVAS or Sculpting Clay, a Plasma Cutter or even Good Brushes? Wow! The SKY is the limit!!

    My First Work to be placed in The Ryan Licht Sang Bipolar Foundation’s permanent collection in 2017: “CROSSING THE DELAWARE, WELL AWARE”, Mixed Media on Canvas by Susan T. Martin

    Thanks and a Huge SHOUT OUT to ALL my FRIENDS, FAMILY AND FOLLOWERS!! You know who you are!!!!