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Guido Vermeulen's mail art envelopes are like worlds into themselves and at the same time they are part of the much larger whole.

(a comment by NANCY BELL SCOTT, USA, on the IUOMA network)

Guido's paintings are like finding images in the clouds
(a comment by Kathleen D. Johnson, USA, on IUOMA)

Guido does not paint monsters but spirits and ghosts, full of love, tenderness and compassion
(LIZA LEYLA during a conversation, Belgium)

His ability to express emotions through painting is a beautiful gift. Allowing oneself to feel sadness is the most direct route through grief. His paintings feel peaceful and kind.

(STEPHEN WALKER, USA)


My life is shifting... Your work is intangible, ethereal, cosmically rewarding. i eat it up & savor it like a great sandwich! It made my day!
(Lisa PEREZ, USA, on IUOMA)

Thank you for the TALISMAN painting on the envelope. It is real cool and creepy at the same time. I haven’t seen a piece of abstract capture such as pain and emotion so well since I visited the museum of art in Toledo. Bravo!
(Sarah Jo Pender, USA, from the Indiana Women’s Prison)

I suppose you could characterize Guido's painting style as expressionist. I know he is very interested in dreams as a source for art and poetry, and these particular chapter pages seem like shadowy dream corridors filled with shifting images and scenes. The Michaux quotes work as a counterpoint, Guido's art is taking over when the limits of language have been reached.
(De Villo Sloan, USA, on my tribute pages to Henri Michaux, see LAMUSAR blog)

Guido’s art expressions are always poems and they show us the reality of our real faces and souls (Mariana Serban, Romania)

His titles have both inspired and educated me (Alicia Starr, USA)

vrijdag 16 juli 2010

THE MIGRATION OF THE ANGEL



Collage around a French poem, made for Jack Ross.
The poem and collage were connected with the WASTED ANGELS project proposed by Jack and exhibited at the cultural center CHIROUX in Liège, Belgium.

The poem was read live in 3 voices, including Jack, one of her daughters and me.



ANGELS ARE NEVER WASTED


« Où sont les anges ?
Exilés dans le désert…
Mais la désertification gagne du terrain ?
Ce qui entraînera le moment du grand retour ! »

Amour perdu du pain quotidien
On peut ronger la paix mais jamais
les nuages de l’oiseau console car
l’orgue de barbarie n’a pas d’orgueil
quand il ordonne l’orbite du masque
né de la confluence entre baleine
& rocher d’une montagne adoucie…

« Mais les plumes m’échappent !
Ne crains rien, la compassion t’aidera. »
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