Knowing you did your level best to create something worthy of hanging in an Art gallery, in a beautiful home. Knowing that gives me joy,
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.
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!!!
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!
Boom. Just like that! I pushed a button, chose the business plan, and I’m up and running… Why don’t you come run with me for a while? You can see me falter, catch my breath, take a few more steps, laugh, get a stitch in my side, take another step or two…and then give it up and fall down in a heap of knees, elbows, sweat and laughter!
Cause, I have to tell you right now, I’m a funny duck! You are going to have quite a time as you get to know my quirks, my Bipolar moods, my PTSD and paranoia, my traumatic brain injury forgetfulness, and all the scarred psyche that my dysfunctional upbringing left me with.
“I am glad you are here. I want you to see me fall, see my imperfections, see my glaring “human-ness” in the unforgiving overhead light of reality… Because I am an artist, and ultimately, I am my art: An Ever-evolving, morphing, learning and growing, beautiful and fleeting image, A mark left on the page of this Tiny Giant Life!”
So, unless otherwise noted, all the Art, Words, Photos, Poems, Thoughts and Visual Musings you see and feel here are the sole creation and copyright property of me,
Susan T. Martin.
I make Out Of The Gutter Art.
Enjoy yourself, wander around a bit, have a drink if you like ( but don’t throw any plastic away, I recycle) Rest if you are tired, eat if you are hungry, but never the last Oreo…that baby is mine.
TRIGGER WARNING: While I do not create pornography, my art is often adult in nature, and can be disturbing for some viewers as it often stems from my memories and flashbacks of emotional, physical and sexual abuse. I use artistic means as a coping mechanism, and therapy and find my art is a soothing release from the horrors of my past. It is my hope that by getting the pain and trauma out of me and onto canvas or other media, I can find peace and the ability to live in the present as a loving, caring, healthy and healing, whole person. Not a victim, but a survivor. And not just existing but thriving!
Of all the people who love me and have helped me on this journey, my utmost gratitude goes to God, who drew me to him from a life buried in the mire. He is the one who pulled me Out of the Gutter.
Out of the Gutter Art 
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