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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)

dinsdag 27 juli 2010

SOME BUBBLES I FORGOT IN THE SEA



Intervention on a mail art envelope, sent to Patrizia Tic Tac in Germany. She proposes projects on bubbles and messages in bottles.

In the envelope this poetic text:

A message in a cloud of bubbles

FOR PC TICTAC

The wind didn't move the wounds in my soul
They were bubbles exploding in the uptight air
They became non existent to the naked eye
But visible they still were on the feathers of firebirds
On the breath of dying fish, on the tongue of clouds

The pound simplicity of oil caused hurricanes
Sweet cane dried the horizon
Kept in a bottle for too long
Earth will challenge fire

Storm in the attic
Evaporating tear drop
Liquid gas attacks
the foundations of our house

I tried in vain to clean
the fur of cats
A pelican committed pointless suicide
No young to feed
except an old iceberg
melting to a golden state of memory loss

What we remember
What we finally remember
is reduced to the bubble I forgot
in the sea of drowning childhood dreams.

Guido Vermeulen
26 July 2010
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