I have finally begun to create again. I was locked in some inner dilemma for quite a while, but then had an epiphany: I must make a move, pick up a pen or a brush. Dab a color on a wall. Move a muscle, change a thought!
So work has started to pour out of me again, and I am pushing to improve. Take myself to new heights . Hopefully in balanced way, but that’s hard with Bipolar Disorder.
I’m flying up to Chicago soon, to go to INSIGHTS VI, the annual exhibition of Art by Bipolar Artists. This is the 5th consecutive win for me, having 5 works in The Ryan Licht Sang Bipolar Foundation’s permanent collection now. I am very grateful and look forward to the trip! I will keep you posted!
I’ve had a presence here for a long time. Going on 16 years, which is mind-blowing! And I still havent learnd all I can do here! I wanted, for a long time now, to set up a store where I could sell my art. Something always holds me back… Excuses, lack of confidence…life in general.
I recieved a scholarship for a 10 week “Art Business” course from the Tampa Bay Innovation Center and Creative Pinellas. I have learned so much, and have taken the plunge and registered a LLC. Oh boy. Exciting! and Terrifying! I will have to be all grown up now, and quit farting around!!
So I am starting a whole new site, with a new domain, user name, everything…I will try to still post my “hardcore” art here, all the strange stuff that pours out of me onto whatever media is at hand!
But for my “real” Art Business I am going to make what sells here in Beachy, Touristy Florida. Hopefully I will make it. I will sure try!
I’ll come back here and let Y’all know when the other site is ready, and I will still share my witty wisdom here. Thank you all so much for being here to support me, to listen when I need an outlet, and to be here! Rock On my Friends!!
it’s always here- even before I open my eyes. Reverberating. Agonizing in it, I try to back away from it, back into my dreams. It is futile. The reality encroaches, angry at being left waiting.
. My eyes reluctantly open, brows already furrowed. I will certainly have that deep furrow between my eyes soon, like Mother had. I probably have it already, just cant see well enough with these old glasses to notice it.
KODAK Digital Still Camera
It is time to arise, fight to my feet, let the outside air in, feed my little animal friends. a day awaits, full of promise, if only I look past the physical realm, into the spiritual. This is a choice, a new choice I will make every day from now on, as long as I am able to open my eyes. will I succeed every day? No, I’m sure I won’t. But I can decide, at any point in my wakeful state, to turn to my Higher Power and ask for help.
I can remember when Sobriety was new to me, and being without drugs or drink felt like walking with nerves on the outside of my skin. The day to day grind seemed impossible, but I made it. For each day of the last 24 years I have made it, one day at a time. I will make it thru this pain , now.
KODAK Digital Still CameraKODAK Digital Still Camera
I have different “visions ” I hold close, no, not some profound spooky kind. I mean real images that I have seen that take me to a calm and happy place inside myself. I had so many horrific experiences foisted upon me in years past that I took these memory “snapshots. One of these is from lying on my back in our Florida backyard, under this HUGE oak tree. Lying there , looking up thru the leaves and branches, to the bluest of blue skies, and the whitest of white clouds sailing past. when I am having a procedure or operation done, I put this vision right in front of my closed eyes, letting it play like a beautiful movie.
There can be no fear or pain then. It cant get in.
Lavender Moon, c.2016STMMoon Halo 2, C. Susan T. Martin
Tonight it was good for me to find this old draft. I started writing it back in 2022, and had left off at the sentence about my furrowed brows. I decided that I can change that narrative, make this post not about pain, but about COPING with it. sometimes all it takes for me to feel better is a teensy shift in vantage point, to where I’m not focused on my reflection, but rather focused on the enormity of this glorious Earth, and the loving Creator who made it for me.
I have new endeavors ahead of me now, an opportunity to start a business, and I am running with the ball this time. There is So much life left to live, love to share and beautiful art to create. Pain is temporary…love is eternal.
Maybe something I have shared has touched you in some way, a good way, I hope. I wish you the very best.
What motivates you to create your art? When you hit a snag, where do you go to get your spark back?
If I’m not careful, when I hit a slump I binge watch murder documentaries… Not good creative fodder. That just brings out negative vibes for me. So what I do instead is watch Art Documentaries. Now, these fire me up! If I watch one about the “Great Masters” then I want tp paint classical images, channeling Michelangelo…If I watch one about The Impressionists, then Pissaro is my guy, or Monet. How about Gaugin, well, the greens and oranges start to flow…Endless beauty, endless motivation…
I’m having surgery on my left wrist tomorrow morning. So I wont be creating much art for a day or so. But I am going to consume a bunch of art. Feed my inner Artist.
Waiting for my pen, for my brush. I just cant stand the barrenness of it, stretching of into the infinite distance, saying nothing.
I cant sit in silence either, in a social setting. I would be awful in an interrogation, babbling mindlessly- wait… not mindlessly. I do get chatty, but I always have something to say. The word “mindless” comes from tapes of a past life, a life that included words like “stupid”, “silly”, “crazy” and “dumb”. I am none of those things.
It is 26 years now since I was physically with my last abuser, 24 years since my last drink, my last drug. I have worked tirelessly these past two and one half decades to become the real person I am today. It is truly a beautiful thing to be alive and in this space.
I could wax poetic about my own marvelousness, (after all I am pretty cool…) but I would rather talk about you. You, my fellow human, out there wishing and wanting. I know it’s hard being you. I know you have reasons for not trying. put that aside for one moment, and give yourself a chance to succeed.
I had someone tell me once, I think it was a person in AA, “Do the next right thing”
THE NEXT RIGHT THING
It will be the thing that raises your head up. The thing that makes you wipe your tears away. The thing that you do to believe in goodness again, the goodness inside you. You have not wasted time on this journey, that is not possible, because it took everything that came before to be right here, right now.
I am really surprised that I feel as good as I do. Years upon years of hating myself, hating my life, hating society. I was angry and hard, and reveled in the pain. It was such a lonely place, even though I was surrounded my all kinds of angry people just like me. We all roared and growled together in our ugliness. I never saw myself surviving, never saw a way out. So I never tried. I believed all the lies I was told, I was a loser, a basket case, a burn out.
I thought I loved my abuser, my “friends”, my family. I thought I was loved in return. But in reality, I had no concept of love. I thought it was possession, ownership. I had so many misconceptions, and they kept me in chains.
So what changed, what happened that let me get out of that life? A series of events I never saw coming. A prayer answered that I thought I could no longer utter. A forgiveness so vast and profound that I finally felt the love and acceptance I was looking for my entire life. I allowed my God in. I told him how broken I was. and I asked him to lead me thru the maze.
That was all I knew to ask. I was lost in a jungle and needed someone to lead me out, into the light.
That was many years ago, and I have lived thru many heartaches, lost my loved ones, suffered major life upheavals and felt unimaginable pain. Just like we all have. But I don’t hate myself anymore. I am not desolate and lost anymore. I feel the joy of true friendship, and I have learned how to be a true friend.
Please, my friend, keep pushing on. You will find the light. You matter. You are loved even though you may not believe it yet. There is always a reason to live, just do the next right thing. If you picked that needle up again, put it down again. I cant tell you how many times I tried and failed. But somehow I found a way to try again. You really are worth every effort.
I am happy to be that poor girl…really! I have spent many days and hours working for very wealthy folks, and I am fine with my more humble surroundings. I see sparse, stark interiors; lots of steel, lots of neutrals. Blah. Bluk.
I suppose it’s alright for a little while, just as soaring ceilings might do for a bit. But it’s just not my thing. I’m a cottage kind of girl, a cabin kid, happy in a hovel, at home in a trailer, a caravan, a tent.
I do enjoy running water, electricity and heat/ac at the ready, though. “Younger me” was more of a survivalist, but my poor hands have arthritis now and wouldn’t be able to hold a match to start a fire. So yeah, electricity is pretty necessary.
. Today I worked some hours on the road. I never told you, but I’m what they call a “gig” driver now. So I tote around a lot of different types of people. Today I was reminded to be grateful, after delivering some privileged little teenagers to a “European Waxing Salon”. Uh, yeah. They were speaking in hushed tones about homeless people, and how scary Miami is now. I actually joined in, and felt ashamed afterwards. Who do I really think I am? I’ve been listening to some music I like from some years back, and an Everlast song keeps going thru my head. Some of the lyrics say,
” Then you really might know what it’s like…to have to lose…”
I had forgotten to be grateful. I’m not out on the street, sleeping under overpasses, stealing liquor, shooting coke…I’m not out beating people up, or stealing from my Grandma. I’m not out ripping and running…
Anymore .
I have to keep it real, keep it fresh. I don’t deserve anything I have. It’s all a gift.
This is my old tomcat, George. He came up to me in my driveway one dark night a couple months ago. Could hardly walk, ears tattered and bloody, one eye squinted shut. All his backbone was showing, all his ribs. A big lump on his side; he could hardly walk and his meow sounded like a cough.
But he’s here right now, on my warm lap. Purring his messed-up little head off. Does he want to live in the Taj Mahal? Well, maybe…but he seems pretty content right where he’s at.
DID you ever feel so immobilized that you wanted to EXPLODE?!? WELL, I DO!! I am so sick of myself, so tired of being tired, so FRUSTRATED at my own inertia that I could scream. I don’t think it’s “Long Covid” . I think it’s ” I’m a Super Lazy LOSER!!”
(as I look back on this post I see that during this “Lazy Spell” I created all the following pieces!!!
Argh. Maybe it is the Long Covid thing. I hate sitting still, but moving makes me exhausted!! Wendy Whiner on the rampage again. I must get out of myself. I get on a roll, painting my heart out, some of my best work, it’s SELLING! AND Splat! Headfirst,I dive, right into the couch. Any headwind suddenly gone without a whisper of a complaint from Miss Michelangelo… See: Loser.
It will come again, the big Wind from Winnetka…( Those of you who know, KNOW.) And man, when it comes I’m going to paint my little butt off. Before it blows right out of town again. This time I’m going to harvest that energy and run with the ball, baby!! Just wait and see. I’ll get it right this time…Peace-out.
A guy can be going along so well, everything chugging along, when suddenly; the bottom falls out of the world. Just when it seemed like smooth sailing.
Is that shocking to me? Shouldn’t be. I’ve felt like Wile. E Coyote many times. This time was different. This time is different.
Until the day comes that I can speak, I will paint. I will draw. And I will carry the Hurt. But it WILL NOT defeat me.
Out of the Gutter Art 
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