The Waterplant, mixed media on canvas by Susan T. Martin(sold)
The torment of Immobility
Riding a wave, tall as a mountain, I rush headlong thru my day
One project done, the next begun:
All clarity-no haze.
The transition came, I know not when(wound up on my butt again)
I wandered thru today amazed:
No clarity-just dazed.
When does it happen/Why?
I did not cause it/Did I?
Now huddled under an ocean of covers, immobilized for days
Not project done, not even begun
Just futility-today.
Where do I go to/Why?
I do not cause it/Do I?
I rode a wave, tall as a mountain, rushed headlong into here
The vast Empty, the foreboding, feeling death is very near,
The quiet is not tranquil, the peace turns into fear
Will I find the will to struggle, will my vision ever clear?
I would not wish this on an enemy, nor even onto me
This terrible stuckness, it's inevitability
Knowing it will leave doesn't help it go
The pros say that will, but they don't really know
I will find my meds, somehow take a few
Sleep a dreamless sleep, tomorrow start anew
Hope against all hope, stagnation soon will end
I will be on top to ride that wave again.
Due to the pandemic INSIGHTS IV was pushed forward to October 2021, again held at the Zolla Liebermann Gallery in Chicago. I wish I could have been there !!
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.
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.
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’.
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, anythingbut 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!!
Out of the Gutter Art 
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