Out of the Gutter Art

Tag: abuse survivor art

  • Carl, the Wolf Spider

    Carl, the Wolf Spider

    And other Random Thought Balloons

    My Recent Mayan Doodling

       Do you ever wonder if you are sane? I do. Quite often. It’s really relative, if you think about it.(and I do). Because I do have relatives with dementia. But that’s not the “relative” I am referring to. (See what I did there? Pretty clever play on words, eh?)   Reality, Sanity, Imagination, Unreality, Insanity. Don’t they all really depend on what we define them as? Sure, a learned man, a psychologist, these folks really know.

       But for me, inside my mind, I only worry when I have trouble thinking about things. Things in my daily life that other people in my world seem to be able to do, things I struggle with. Bills are a bigee.  Huge issue. I can see the amount I have in the bank, but I just keep sending payments without looking to see if I used all the money up. Like, if I don’t look, then maybe the money will magically cover the payments!

       I don’t think that is sane. Nor is buying ice cream knowing I will eat the entire container, no matter how sick it will make me, which will , in turn,  cause me to be angry at myself. Round and round the Insanity rolls.

    “A THOUGHT MONSTER ESCAPES”

       Do other people dwell on every interaction with other humans they have ever had on a given day? Repeating the scenario and mentally kicking oneself over a mispoken.phrase, a potentially misunderstood glance? Do others wish so hard for a “normal” sleep schedule but deliberately sabotage their efforts by drinking Mountain Dew and eating 6 cups of popcorn at 3 AM? ( Oooh,.that sounds really good, but it’s only 1 am!)

    “Speaking of Yucky Things” c.STMartin2018

       I rattle off a litany of nonsense during my therapy sessions, right after I go over all my real issues,  mentally making note of what pressing issues to discuss…When I hang up all the important points rush back into my brain.

    “the Many Manic Moods of Susan Todd!”
    My Art Lamp!

    LOSING IT !!

      I am ANGRY that I can’t think properly! I want to blame someone for my craziness. Hereditary,  from Dad’s early onset Alzheimer’s. Or the unknown blood donor whose blood I was given at my birth in 1964. That surely did it! What about Mom’s agoraphobia,  depression, hatred of my Dad? Mom’s mom had Alzheimer’s also, and wasn’t there a crazy Uncle? Wait, I’ve GOT IT: my ANCESTRY goes back to the Plantagenets!! Those INBRED ROYALS!!

       I’ll be ok…I won’t give up on trying to be a wee bit better each day at navigating life. I have to go easy on the me that has had 3 major head injuries, resulting in ongoing vertigo and headaches. Post concussion syndrome is a beast. So are the residual effects of years of emotional, sexual and violent abuse that was perpetrated on the child I was, and still am, mentally. Nor to be taken lightly is my Bipolar Disorder and the side effects of the medicines that decrease the symptoms. Or so many other pain issues I deal with daily.

       When I go easy on myself, and take time to reflect on the beautiful gift of life that God has given me. And the undeserved forgiveness and mercy he bestows daily, then my heart is eased and it doesn’t matter quite as much if I have some confusion each day. I am grateful.

     

  • Mania Illuminata goes home!

    Mania Illuminata goes home!

    Mania Illuminata shines in Five Deuces Galleria recently!
    Me and my shadow!! It has been a long trip but she found a good home!!

    WHAT a great show this was at Five Deuces Galleria down in St Petersburg this month! I had really been trying to get in a show at this gallery, I felt early on that it would be a good fit for my work. I was right! I have made some excellent connections and am working on my entries for their next show, “Black and White with a touch of color!

    I am really excited to have my piece in an important local collection, and I see great things ahead! Let’s keep pushing on!

  • Now We Know

    Now We Know

    But didn’t we already? I mean, really, deep down?

    Oh, my. I didn’t think knowing her cause of death would hurt so much. I’ve tried not to get swept up in the frenzy of pre-judgment, the swirling sea of speculation and conclusion-jumping. I have kept my distance from the personal pain of her family, her loved ones…even the pain of onlookers and hang-arounds.

    It still hurts. Even though I see some truth in certain societal prejudice creating a higher level of media interest, still it hurts. For me, I think it lies in her openness, naiveté. So schoolgirl-ish, eager to please. Happy. Blonde. Hopeful.

    A Different free-spirited blonde: “Party Girl”©SusanToddMartin2019(sold)

    That is not her fault. And it doesn’t do to focus on the social imbalance, not right now. Some may disagree, and stand on soap boxes and toot their messages throughout the land. That’s for them.

    A never-silent voice from my past: “I can still “Reach Out and Touch You”©SusanToddMartin2018 ; even past State lines, from prison bonds and the grave his hold still haunts me at times…Such is the legacy of domestic violence.

    For me? It hurts. Like a baby bird fallen from it’s nest, limp in my hands, I want to fix her. I want to swaddle her in my favorite fuzzy blanket, hold her like Mary holding Jesus. I did not know you, Gabby, but I know you. e

    You were me, at 17, drinking beer with my friends and my new boyfriend. When, in an instant a fist struck my laughing, open mouth. Spitting beer and a piece of tooth out behind a tree where he had marched me, saying I would ‘never disrespect him in public’.

    • Flashback 937(detail)©STMartin2017
    • Detail:Growth, Susan T. Martin
    Believing we needed to be in a relationship to be ‘whole’ , no matter the alarm bells, no matter the danger. Putting on masks to hide the pain, trying to become whatever the abuser wanted. Putting up with a slap, a punch, being berated and belittled and not telling a soul…buying into a ‘romantic’ dream turned nightmare…my art reflects all these processes as I lived thru it; so many others don’t.

    I closed my laughing mouth that day, at least when it came to telling anyone about abuse. I could talk about “anything” to family, anything but THAT. And, for me a huge part of the silence was shame and embarrassment. How could I admit I got it so wrong? The family wanted the future marriage with all the trappings, wedding albums, grandkids. They bought him Christmas gifts, let him sleep in their home, share the holiday table. Giggling with Mom and friends over future plans, seeing the romantic movies, going to the weddings of siblings and friends. So much family pride at a daughter married off…

    I remember my brother glimpsing him treating me bad, some rude remark made on the side, my face burning with embarrassment: He sat me down the next day, “Don’t go with him, he’s no good…” But Dad would have a Scotch on the porch with my abuser, making jokes about ‘the womenfolk” and “keeping a firm hand”, the knowing glances and cigars puffed…WAIT!! I wanted to scream. I don’t want this anymore!!

    But the abuser promised behind closed doors : ” If I can’t have you nobody can…”

    My heart cries out for the loss of a beautiful life, for the suffering of her family, and empathy for millions of others who have had to suffer and/or die at the hands of their mate…the person closest to them. I hope that others who are in violent relationships can tell a trusted confidante, find a safe exit and save their lives. Better yet, learn to treasure the life they have, value themselves without settling for a boyfriend of girlfriend who hurts them(mentally or physically). Take Gabby’s tale to heart, and live!!

    Sigh…

  • Adventures of a Cross-Eyed Girl

    Adventures of a Cross-Eyed Girl

    Nobody wants to go thru this… NOBODY.

    Even lying down my head still spins…

    Having a Traumatic Brain Injury is a real drag. Of course it is. Mine was not the worst kind, as we so often sadly see in war, car accidents, shootings.

    I was brain injured in stages, blow by sickening blow, at the hands of a man who had pledged to love and cherish me. It is not to discuss him, or my past that I bring this up. It is the aftermath.

    I had many concussions already when I suffered a series of falls in 2013 where I suffered another head injury. After that one I experienced vertigo “on steroids”. After coming home from the hospital, I went to bed, hurting from a broken ankle but otherwise ok. I had to get up and pee, so I teetered on my crutches towards the loo. Lo and Behold! I was so dizzy I toppled sideways into the closet doors and crashed headfirst into them, knocking them off their track! And knocking me off mine, you might say.!

    Detail of “Flashback 937”, a biographical work about my journey out of domestic abuse…

    Long story short, its been 8 years. Initially I had Physical Therapy for a span of about 2 years. The vertigo I was experiencing is called Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo, or BPPV. Usually a quick maneuver by the therapist, turning one this way then that, is all that is required for a full recovery. In 99 percent of cases. You guessed it… I was not cured. So I have bouts of cross-eyed misery on a bi-monthly basis.

    “Unplugged” a digital finger painting showing my brain’s misfiring connections…

    You don’t realize how sick vertigo can make you till you endure this joy ride. First I want to puke, then I nearly fall, then I’m overcome with a fatigue so profound that getting out of bed is a monumental feat. And this Rollercoaster just keeps going round. The problem is that I feel so sick that I don’t recognize the BPPV right away. Until I snap a selfie and realize my eyes are out of whack again. Oh, I forgot to mention the blinding headaches… Yeah, those. Ok, the light is hurting my eyes… Back to bed.

    Another Night blurs into Day…and on, and on, and on…

  • Chicken? or Pig? Just Flesh, please…

    Chicken? or Pig? Just Flesh, please…

    “What’s the Deal? Am I a Coward?”

    Where does it Hurt? Unmasking,©SusanTMartin2021W/P

    Commitment to put out my best work…not just work. To push my limits, expand my thought processes…remove boundaries.

    Flashback 937 ©SusanTMartin2017

    I was reading Eric Wayne’s blog , @artofericwayne.com, and he focused a piece on the fine art of Suzzan Blac. (I will refer you to his article and won’t share her work here.) Holy Toledo. The things I allude to in some of my biographical work, the fact that I thought I was being so brave…no. This artist lays it bare…flays it bare.

    She nails the darkest emotions that creep into my nightmares, 50 years after the events. Nothing held back. I admire this work, even if I look at it in secret, as if it’s evil perps can see me, too. As if others can tell that the abuse made me want to hurt someone just like I was hurt. That is the most disgusting part to me, the stain on my soul. That’s the painful truth that I thought my God could never forgive me for…the filthy truth that kept me out in the cold sticking needles in my flesh just to forget for a few minutes…kept me out there for 23 years. I wanted to die, just like I want to kill the perps she pictures so perfectly…

    The Inheritance of Daughter’s ©SusanTMartin2018

    I can’t say I love her work, or even like it, it feels too real to me. It makes me respond like the people I have told my experiences to; that half smile and and nod of understanding while their eyes glaze over with fear and a sort of loathing…like my very words are getting dirt on them. Suzzan is courageous in that she can look her demons in the eye and paint them. Nailing their guilt to the canvas forever. But her pain, her brokenness is palpable and forever on display for both victims and sick minds to see.

    • That Day, Acrylic and embellishment on canvas, Susan T. Martin, 2016
    • Angry Daughter by Susan T Martin
    • Isolationism ©SusanTMartin
    • Reaching Out, Acrylic on Canvas, Beginning Stages, Susan T. Martin 2017
    • “Visionaria”©SusanTMartin2018
    • The Sentinel’s Prayer , stage II,©SusanTMartin
    • The Duck Hunt ©SusanTMartin

    I can’t look too long, and perhaps I should not look at all, for my own sanity. I recognize her need to paint her experiences. I have to also, to get the emotions out and onto the page, onto the canvas where they can’t rip me up inside, at least for a little while. I do this to heal, to repair my damaged psyche until my God repairs me permanently.

    • Inside Voice
    • Cant Quiet Down
    • The Rummage Sale w/p ©Susan T Martin

    I hope that she can find some respite for her pain, too.

    2018 Insights II WINNING Entry! ” Crossing the Delaware, Well Aware”©SusanTMartin2018 in the Permanent Collection of The Ryan Licht Sang Bipolar Foundation

  • Painting My Heart Out

    Painting My Heart Out

    Woo Hoo ! I am an artist WHIRLWIND again! Hang on, cause art is flowing out of me in a torrent, and I need more hands. I am happy to be out of “funk town” for a while! I entered six shows in the past month and now have 5 paintings accepted into these shows . Four of the five shows. I can’t believe how things snowball. The piece above is a Work in Progress, one of my Surrealist pieces, with a working title of Angry Birds, a little pun on the silly game people play on their devices. I’m rethinking that right now, I may put people off by that. But who cares if I like it, right? Naming Art is the Artist’s privelege. Kind of like children; you made it, you name it! And here’s a fun little twist…how many Birds do you see?

    I painted what I believe to be my best piece as far as figurative art, it’s an acrylic mixed media piece which is a statement piece about justice and human trafficking…It is named “Stuck in Traffic (Framed) and I will post it, and the one mentioned above as soon as I sign them in a few minutes here… Be patient, I had to lie down for a minute. I decided a while back that I must sign my work before I post it online… Silly, really, you can’t stop the thievery no matter what you do, if you decide to post your art online. I recently read a piece considering the benefit vs risk of putting your art online. If you decide not to you are missing out on reaching millions of people, perhaps billions. If you want to sell your art, and/or share it with an audience, then the risk is one you must take. Unless of course you are going to let it spead just by word of mouth. Then it would take 100 years telling 5 people a day to reach 182,500 people, if they did not tell anyone else. If each one told 5 others then… wait a minute, you get the idea. It would take a long time.

    Impressionism is my dearest love, and I hope one day to paint like Pissaro, or maybe Gauguin… Of course I have my own style, and I concentrated more on my brushwork in this piece, and multicolored skin to show my feelings rather than accurate realism. I especially love the dramatic shadows, I tried to be brave! Like I’m not passionate enough, right? I’m proud of the results! I will list all the shows I’m in in the next few days, with their websites and dates…