Out of the Gutter Art

Tag: self worth

  • FLASHBACK RODEO

    FLASHBACK RODEO

    Another Day at the Races

    ¡TRIGGER WARNING! This post deals with domestic violence, physical assault and ptsd flashbacks. Please use discretion!

    Ah, dear husband of mine. How you never leave me. I can remember your last punch like it was yesterday. Dear previous boyfriend; thanks so much for hitting me in the face so hard that you broke the hard contact lenses in both of my eyes. Oh, and for the chipped front tooth.

    Dear Ex-Fiance, the lovely memories of you stalking me never leave. I can still hear your trucks engine idling outside my bedroom window at 4 in the morning. A few weeks later you murdered your Dad, and yourself…

    And dear Husband of mine, how often I still hear your calling me “Stupid Bitch”, and can still feel your knee across my neck as my vision faded to black. I was sure I was dead, and I was glad. I would never again have to see the evil hatred in your eyes… But no, I wasn’t dead, I had six more years to live with you, memories of being stabbed, shot at and beaten unconscious. Oh, the memories…

       But I’m still here, after all this time. I’m alive, and my abusers are not. Maybe some still live, but I am free, and I am strong and I am beautiful.

       My God saved me from all of them.

       So, when the flashbacks come, and come they do…I know to hold on. Hold on tight to my faith. Hold on tight to what I know is real, and turn off the sights and sounds that rise up to try to torment me.

    My God loves me, and has put my feet on level ground. He has given me the priceless gift of a clean conscience, washed clean with the forgiveness purchased thru the life blood of his perfect Son. I am free of the chains of addiction, of abuse, and of my own self-loathing. I am grateful.  And free. Today was a hard day, in that the flashbacks came out to play. For whatever reason I was triggered , for a while.  But this day is over, successfully lived. I can rest me weary eyes and start fresh tomorrow…

    Head in the Clouds c. SusanTMartin2023

       I thank God for relieving me of the abusers, the abuse,  the sickness of thinking I deserved the terrible mistreatment I endured.

       It is a good feeling to care about myself…

    It has been a long road, including years of therapy and hard work.

       I hope I can help others find the courage to heal.

      

      

  • 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!

  • Peeping Out

    Peeping Out

    Squinting. Blink, blink…blink, blink…

    The coast seems clear, dare I step out-into the light? I think I must, after my last cryptic and elusive post. Nothing bad happened, artistically. I was uplifted, encouraged, validated. People needed to hear from me, needed to hear how a girl with so many odds stacked against her from the “git go”, plus the things I had piled on myself-how I had teetered at the edge of the abyss…and made it back to tell the tale.

    Why? Why? Why? ©STMartin “Growth” detail

    Many are grieving themselves, their pain written in their beautiful eyes, on expertly made up, flawless faces. They searched mine, looking for an answer- “Why.” Why? Why? Had they missed the signs? Were there signs? Hadn’t they done everything, sought the right help, paid the right physician, listened closely in the therapy sessions?

    Why hadn’t their love been enough?

    Of Love Lost…©STMartin2021

    I could only tell them that there was no rhyme or reason as to why I am here and their daughter is not. They did nothing to cause Bipolar Disorder. It doesn’t come from privilege, nor does it spring from want. It isn’t kept at bay with hugs or attention, nor is it fueled by neglect. At least none of this was true in my case.

    My family was dysfunctional, true. So were many of my peers families. So are nearly all families. But my friends had not led lives fueled by a burning need to shoot across the sky in a blaze of purple confetti. Or to try to beat the Guiness world record for consecutive shots of 100 proof vodka. Nor had they experienced the kind of despair that left them lost and disheveled in their bathrobe when they were supposed to be graduating college or accepting an award.

    A very trippy feeling…©STMartin

    I wanted to tell them they did more than my family ever did. That my Mom was the only one who believed that I did not want to be a train wreck. She asked the questions, walked thru broken glass for me and held my hand when the meds weren’t working. But ultimately she couldn’t divert the catastrophe either.

    I’m trying to tell you it’s not your fault. Grieve the loss, but don’t blame yourself. I know when the darkness comes over me, it’s no one’s fault. And if I hold on really tight, it will pass. I white-knuckle it many nights, but a new day always dawns.

    One day in the future there will not be any mental illness, or suicide. Until then just love your Bipolar person, hold on tight when you can and bask in their amazing glow. Be there when their sparklers fizzle and love them back to their feet. When they jump in their little rocket ships to the moon, put on a brave smile and wish them all the love in the world…till you meet again.

    And if you are Bipolar and you are feeling alone, please reach out if you can. Know that you are worthy of love and that this darkness will eventually pass. You will be back on top again. The rain will stop. The sun will shine, the pain will ease. Hold on for dear life my friend.

  • 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

  • Where I am in my Art?

    Where I am in my Art?

    I am Where? In my Art.

        Over here, Over there, everywhere I am, I am.

       Good ol’ Susie made some art-Where art I? Art I? Oh.

       I have never hired anyone to sit for me. My people who people my canvases are The People who people my mind. Here a people, there a people, every where a peep hole, people.

    People . What a funny word, especially when you write it , many times, in the same sentence.

    The same sentence.

    Oh, what a sentence it will be.

    “The Crowd in My Head”.digitally painted paper collage, Susan T. Martin, 2015

    How I do struggle, with all the Angst pushing against the walls of me, like a giant Volcano Person.

    Do you feel me? How can you? I’m over here and you are Way, Way ……..over there.

    This little Ditty is entitled, “The Reckoning”. ©STMartin2011

       I loved my father, my hated father. Oh, how I love him still. He could do no wrong in my eyes. Oh, but how wrong he did. A hater of some, lover of others…my mother? I’m not sure. Sure, they loved. But did they LOVE? 

        I’m sure I did. DID WHAT? loved. Your Father? No! But, yes. But NO , not like that

       I loved him like you love the most beautiful rose-way down in the middle of the thorn bush. So beautiful, so pristine.  20210419_203149SO UNTOUCHABLE, UNREACHABLE, unlovable in his lack of love output. He was so put out, when asked for love. Not as put out as mother, though.cropped-image-4resize-flashback1.jpg

        OH NOOO! Mother was the furthest put out by an outpouring. Oh, no don’t pour it out on HER. Eww, you’re sticky, get your dirty hands OFF… Ew, you are making me HOT! ….Eww, Susan Todd, you are so HUGGY! What makes you so HUGGY?!

      You are JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER. (no, mother!) You are so DIFFERENT from YOUR BROTHER . (but, how mother?)WHERE did you COME FROM? (you, mother?) 

    WIN_20170815_11_19_02_Pro
    Reaching Out, acrylic on canvas, Work in Progress, Susan T. Martin 2017

    Sent from Mail for Windows 10

    Did they really LOVE?

    Do YOU ? Really , Really ??

    “Synapse Miss Fire” ©SusanTMartin2019
    ” Flashback #937″ (detail)©STMartin2018

  • HOW TO SHAKE IT UP, BABY!!!

    HOW TO SHAKE IT UP, BABY!!!

    First things First>DO NOT GIVE UP!!

    take the time you need to heal, then: GET UP ON YOUR FEET AND FIGHT!

    “It’s not the size of the Dog in the Fight…It’s the size of the FIGHT in the Dog…”

    Mark Twain

    My physical health knocked me down for the past 2 weeks, any headway I had made in my Art Practice seemed to be slip-sliding away! I had given myself a wake up call, determined to make this a great year for my self expression. Motivated by many hours of study in art history, and of the great Masters, then the Impressionists, And on down thru the centuries…

    I was Fired Up and hitting on all cylinders! I even sought some marketing advise, only to be told that I had no idea what I was doing and probably never would. Ahhh, welll. That’s nothing new, my Dad told me that for 40 years!

    I will not let negative remarks cloud my Artistic Vision! As long as I am able, I will use this gift to tell my story: Sometimes messy, sometimes hard to look at…

    BUT ALWAYS UNIQUELY MY OWN! Hooray for Me, and for You!

    So, I had been sidelined, but I still have 5 works in 4 shows across the US right now! Not bad for a loser!!

    Just Being ME is Awesome! (detail “A Wee Bit Peckish” now showing at Woodwalk Gallery online)

  • Yellow Belly.

    Yellow Belly.

    Red Jello. Green jellybeans…Green-Eyed Greedy Gut: runs around eating the whole world up.

    Red Beans and Rice. Red Eye Gravy. Red Bone Coon Hound,

    Yellow Rice. Condaleeza Rice. Yellow-bellied Sap Sucker. Red Robin. Red Skin Potatoes.

    Green Godess. Long Island Iced Tea. Rum. Lots and lots of Rum.

    Brown Gravy, Brown Eyed Girl…Skin Browned by the Sun. Skin.

    Smooth Skin, Tanned Skin, Supple Skin. Skin Head

    Random Words, Targeted Pain. Lasting Pain, Throbbing, Stabbing, Burning, Achy , Dull, Acute Pain.

    Red Yellow Green and Brown Pain. White Pain. My pain.