THE BEHINDER I GET How true, how true that Pennsylvania Dutch saying is. I squander my art endeavors, rushing from this deadline to that, frazzled, befuddled and unsatisfied. That may … Continue reading The Hurrier I Go…
I am an Artist, Poet and Author. A Survivor of Violent Sexual Abuse and Rape, I have lived thru Severe Domestic Violence, Twenty Three years of Addiction and Alcoholism, Family Dysfunction, Chronic Pain, Dependence on Opioids, and 2 Venomous Snake Bites...I have Been Stabbed, Shot at, Tied to a Tree and Choked Unconscious. A Quarter Horse Rolled on Me, as did a Lawn Tractor. I also Wrecked a Harley into a Tree! I also have PTSD and Rapid Cycling Bipolar Disorder, and spent my 18th birthday in a Locked Psychiatric Ward. I am so much more than this: I feel like a tiny seed that sprouted in a desert, and now has grown into a Passion Vine. My Art is my Voice, Screaming, Crying, Praying, Loving, Laughing, Healing- all in Riotous Color...
One just can’t help getting one’s hopes up when entering shows. You read the call, you think “Wow! Piece of Cake! That’s exactly the kind of art I do anyway!” … Continue reading The Big Show
recognizing my BIPOLAR self image I’m in “Wonderland” right now. Been here for a week or so. Time seems to be inching by, my head too heavy to lift off … Continue reading IN the Mirror
“…running to the window, still asleep, she fell thru the glass with a crash…”
‘Progress, not perfection.’ Who said that? I hate you, whoever you are. Because I…WANT…PERFECTION!
I eat a lot of my art. Great flow, free strokes, endless imagination…stuffed in my spare bedroom. “What spare bedroom?” You have a right to ask, especially when the door … Continue reading Eating Art
I should have taken photography classes. I dearly love the medium, and in this day and age I am happy that I can create beautiful images with a smidgen of … Continue reading Thru the Looking Glass: The Optics of Susan
Stuck in the Barnyard “OLD McDONALD HAD A COMMISSION…Oh no, Oh no, Oh no……”
Originally posted on Out of the Gutter Art:
Running full tilt thru each day leaves no time for reckoning no time to breathe or seek relief till exhaustion stops the…
My Dad had many facets. If I only saw the ones that shined like diamonds…is that so wrong? I spent my tiny days laughing in his orbit, his aura was … Continue reading In His Eyes
Does it matter to an art collector what the artist was experiencing in her mind at the moment a work was conceived? Or is the final product just that: A … Continue reading Dreams into Reality into Dreams
“He bandaged my broken hands that had beaten down my own hopes…”