Out of the Gutter Art

Tag: Art therapy

  • FAIL…SAFE?

    FAIL…SAFE?

    Stick your neck out. You gotta fail to win. Break a leg. And on and on…

    A new Hybrid Creation!! A physical 3/D art mask with Digitally Painted surround!! Cool, man! ©Susan T Martin

    Do you think of yourself as fearless? I used to think I was-when I was very, very drunk. Then I would cling to my “old man”, laughing like a lunatic, as we would race down I-26 at about 120mph on his old shovelhead. Whew…

    That is not fearless. That’s just insane.

    I was asking God the other day, to let me know what kind of art I should create. He did not suddenly give me skills like Michaelangelo, unfortunately. However, I share the same birthday with that marvelous personage. (Michaelangelo, that is…)

    God has remained quiet, and has allowed me to decide what to make. That is why he gave me an imagination. And a drive to put what I see playing on my internal projector out into the real world, for others to see. Sometimes what I choose to show is not pretty, but has some meaning for me. At times my work is mildly odd, at others it can be painful for me to see, because the images or emotions have come from a deep and scary place. This particular type of art can be very therapeutic for me as a survivor; I take the monster out of the box, turn it this way, then that, think on it a bit, maybe beat it up a little, and then put it safely away again.

    I feel strong after I do that, because I chose how to interpret the emotion, not the perp.

    I saw it thru my lens, from a distance I am comfortable with, and I share what I choose to share. When I am at my bravest, I am not considering what the viewer might think at all. That may sound counter-intuitive , after all, don’t I want to please the viewer? Coax them into buying my art?

    Aren’t I actually shooting myself in the foot?

    ( It really is going to be Allright, Mother…I will not starve…)

    I feel like such a big chicken when I create art to please the masses. Well, I don’t have “masses”, how about a ‘mass’. How about a ‘mess’? If messes were my main concern I’d be Uber famous, because I have messes everywhere.

    Anyway, I create art because I am an artist. It’s part of me. It’s not a job, it’s my identity, my natural state of being.

    Should I paint “safe” so as not to “fail”….

    I will create art, that is what I do. As long as I do this , I will always be ‘safe’ in the knowledge that I gave that which I have so graciously been given.

    Don’t let fear of failure cause you to fence yourself in. Find a break in that fence, gather your courage and break thru!! When you free yourself from the constraints of creating for someone else, your imagination will soar to great new heights!!

    This was one of those paintings that Hurt, as I was painting it… But it had to be done, for my own healing…

  • Starting Over, Over Again

    Starting Over, Over Again

                 Things will seem to go OK, when suddenly they’ll stop,

    .            Face in the dirt, there I lay-then poof! I am up top.

    .            This brain of mine, this machine, that whirrs inside my head,

    .             Makes the bells and whistles ding even when I lay in bed.

    .             I need relief, some way, some how, to quiet racing thoughts,

    Instead they throw some pills at me to make me who I’m not.

    I always knew I would wind up alone,

    .             Now that it happened, now that I’ve grown…

    .             It’s the worst pain I’ve ever known.

    .             Can you see me going mad in here?

    .             Can you hear me? Can you, Dear?

    .             There’s a slim chance, if you hurry,

    .             That all the scary things will scurry,

    .             That the sky will clear, the rain will stop-

    .             And once again I’ll be on top.

    Detail:Growth, Susan T. Martin
    “Mania Illuminata” sold
    Most Recent, “Growth!” by Susan T. Martin
    FRONT VIEW ( of a sphere?!?)
    Prayer for Magdallia, by Susan T. Martin
    9 x 11 Marker on Board
    Plugged In, Digital Painting ©STMartin2020
  • IN the DOGHOUSE

    IN the DOGHOUSE

    • MUNSON, embellished cement sculpture, (Award of Merit at Best of the Best Show at A.E.BACKUS MUSEUM2014)©Susan T Martin(Inquiries Welcome)
    • DOOR STOP or START? recycled Concrete Block©Susan T. Martin 2014(sold)
    • SELF PORTRAIT, (detail) ©Susan T. Martin2019(Inquiries Welcome)
    BLOCKY the ROCK HOUND, work in progress, Concrete Block and Rocks©STM

    Sigh… I’ve been feeling crappy… Really Awful… SICK. It has caused a pause in my production of work. There is this niggling worry, of course, about the big C, CO I mean…VID. I don’t believe this is it, am hoping very strongly that this is not it. The headache is from a sinus infection that seems to always correspond to this changing season. So, I have been fighting, on this front, for about a week.

    • Screen Siren
    • Kiko-Man!
    • Baby Klee
    • Commissioned Portrait
    • Commissioned Portait
    • Don’t touch my hat!
    • Kleopatra of the Nile, my big nose Baby…
    • coooooookkkie!!
    • Aiko Xoxo Izabella, Dear Heart, best Mom ever…
    THE DOG HOUSE GALLERY ©Susan T. Martin

    I rely so much on my little Kleo as a huggable, furry sounding board , having recently experienced the grief of losing her uncle Kiko last month. She became violently ill yesterday, and had to be rushed to the astronomically expensive emergency vet. Five hundred plus dollars and a day later she is stabilized, but I’m not sure I am. The running total on all my credit cards is the highest I’ve ever had, and the gallery I use has been virtual for months. Sales are nil for now, so I feel pressured to create a masterpiece . But I keep falling asleep with my paintbrush for my hand, and abstract ain’t my bag at the moment. Perhaps it should be. I could, in my stupor, lay a blank canvas on the floor by my couch and hold an open paint jar over it while I doze. Perhaps some nice swirly “pour”will result…( This is a JOKE. )

    • FIRE, BLOOD, SKY, WATER, 2nd Version ©Susan T Martin2009
    • The Guardian, acrylic on board,© Susan T. Martin 2016(donated)
    • Grouchy Grouper, Palm Frond and Pine Cone Fine Art©Susan T Martin2014
    • UNDERCURRENTS, ©Susan T. Martin2014
    • RUNNER THE CLOTHES HORSE-recycled Ironing Board, Couture Gown, Palm Fronds , Nylon Pantyhose, Grocery Store Bags, Feather Boas, Curtain Rods, Old Yarn over Chicken Wire Cage, NFS
    • GEORGE,©Susan T Martin (Inquiry Welcome)
    • COUNTRY CLUB STABLES, PINE CHEST (detail) ©Susan T Martin(inquiry Welcome)
    • NEVOA, 3rd Version©Susan T Martin 2011
    • Mural in Progress 2016©SusanTMartin
    • Intergallactic Dragonfly, mixed media sculpture©Susan T. Martin 2016,(sold)
    • THE MUTANT FROG BOX(detail)©SusanTMartin(sold)
    • The MUTANT FROG BOX, recycled vintage tool box ©SusanTMartin(sold)
    • ONE FISH TWO FISH RED FISH BLUE FISH, fine art Print©Susan T Martin(Inquiry Welcome)
    • FISH OF A DIFFERENT FEATHER “Outrageous Jello Mold” ©Susan T. Martin(sold)
    • ROUND UP, Palm Frond Art, ©Susan T. Martin, in progress
    • DANCE of ANDALUSIA,©Susan T. Martin2018
    • Babs the Crab©Susan T. Martin2018(sold)
    • Riley, Palm Frond Assemblage©Susan T. Martin2019(sold)
    • DANCE of the ANDLUSIAN fine art print©Susan T. Martin2018(Inquiries Welcome)
    • NEVOA, 4th Version©Susan T. Martin
    THE ANIMAL HOUSE GALLERY Animal Art from 2010-2020©Susan T. Martin

    The day before my illness I painted a new canvas, and I feel very pleased with it, even though my freehand jug is rather “interesting”. I do have more works in progress , soon to come to fruition as Kleo Pup and I mend. Yay. I mean, “YAY!!”

  • Over the Humpty-Dump

    Over the Humpty-Dump

    Oh, the fun of a downward spiral…After a week or two of just mind blowing energy and creativity, comes the inevitable crash. This time it was about a week of doldrums, pain, negativity and actual physical illness, all of which I attribute to this illness called Bipolar Disorder.

    The worst part of a depressive episode, besides dishes and dirty laundry accumulating , and unmade beds and unmopped floors, is this: Lack of Creativity . It cripples me. Makes me agonize about my ability, question my work, my path, my life course. I think of a million different ways I am a failure, and I become totally immobilized, sucked into my squishy pillow, and held captive by doubt. Even though I know what is happening , and know my thoughts are tangled for a time, I am still unable to make a move.

    Portals to Peace

    I can best liken it to being held hostage, until the cycle passes.

    So-here I am today, a new day, a new cycle! We are on the upswing, baby!! Hold on tight, cause I am an artist extraordinaire, a churning swirling dervish holding 10 brushes in one hand while I work on 5 canvases at one time !!!WOO HOO!!!

    Another Incredible Tiny Table ready for someones patio!!

    A little bit of Gallery Wrapped Joy ready for sale!

    All in All, I’m just too hot to handle right now, and I’m painting like a human tornado!!! Ok, maybe just a little dust devil, but you get the idea!!! Let it Fly, say I!!!!wheeeee!

  • HOPE SPRINGS!

    HOPE SPRINGS!

    Change has come round the bend again…My illness has spit me out of the Doubt Chamber, at least for a time. Yay. Woop Woop. The Bipolar illness, that is…the Excruciating Pain from my other illnesses is ongoing and unending. It is particularly intense today. So my enthusiasm for my self esteem and confidence in my artistic ability returning is a wee bit dampened. Wee bit. Dampened. Squished. (but NOT by the Brahmas, thankfully!)


    (Deep intake of breath…deep sigh…) I have been attempting to post some new work and projects for a couple days, and also deeply considering the direction my site will take from now on. Many difficulties with my brain function and memory have plagued me, induced by the severe lack of sleep I experience. In the last 72 hours I have gotten less than 8 hours sleep, and those 8 not in succession. At about 3AM I went round putting knives and hammers away, in the event of my experiencing some kind or break with reality. (not kidding…) As a middle aged, fairly out of shape(!) woman who lives alone in a severely downtrodden area with windows that dont shut, I have tried to become more cautious. Hence the scattering of knives and hammers about the house.

    A overly prideful attitude towards my ability as a fighter over my life, and having been into lifting and high-impact aerobics, has left me careless, I must admit. Too much intake of crime documentaries and murderer profiles has caused a big uptick in my worry factor- but I dont want to slip into exessive paranoia, which is easy to do with PTSD, and BPD. So I have been working on improving basic safety around and i my home, setting sensor lights properly and fixing entry points. Good girl Susie….Balance, seeking balance…

    As far as my Blog Presence here and on other site, I will take the plunge back into sales of my artwork, being active in keeping up in my creating back stock, advertising it, proper shipping understanding and researching business ownership. one foot in front of the other.

    Hopefully I will be back soon to post more positive content!

  • Little Dipper

    Little Dipper

    Oh, the way we roll…up one wave, down the next ad infinitum… My balloon can be pricked so easily, it’s like the world and everyone on it are made out of pins. I get to the point where the remedy is sleep and sweets , not necessarily in that order. The wind has left me in the Doldrums, in a tropical heatwave.

    I get cranky in the heat, and there is no respite, even in the house where the afternoon till 7pm Temps range from 84 to ninety, with the AC on full blast.

    Woe is me, woe is me… I was so glad to have the job on the tea cart, really motivated and doing fine work (I thought so, anyway…)

    Yesterday the Gentleman who gave me the commission showed up at my door with a little wagon to take it home, unfinished !!!! I told him I only had about 1/2 done, but he insisted “No, you’re done.”and hurried out with it with the words, “Oh, and here’s your money”.

    Thats when the Little Dipper visited, and is doing it’s darndest to turn into a Bigger Dipper. I didn’t even sign it, because it was only 1/2 done! Ah, well. I’m going to refund 1/2 the money. It hurts my conscience to keep it….

  • Forgetting the I

    Forgetting the I

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