Polish artist
Tomasz Jerzy Vetulani (born 21 December 1965) is a Polish painter, drawer and sculptor active in Utrecht and Kraków.
From: Wikiquote (CC BY-SA 4.0)
Tomasz Vetulani's work balances between two fascinating axes, producing an image of an artist juggling various means of expression. From intriguing and expressive objects, made by him from, say, hot white glue or black silicon, with strong social and political connotations - to subtle images-objects, evoking fleeting states, where the sensitive eye of the artist touches the sublimation of certain senses.
He deliberately rejects the classic beauty of the form for the sake of fragility, transience or simply greater sensitivity to what is present. His work has a mockery and ironic character. He looks critically and with great apprehension at Poland, he does it from the perspective of an emigrant, from culturally and socially different Netherlands, which became a new homeland for him.
Years ago I heard such a nice saying that the soul travels at the speed of a horseback run. Nowadays, of course, nobody travels by horse, but it seems to me that I am always somewhere in the middle of my travels between Poland and the Netherlands. As soon as I reach one destination, my soul still has not left the other place for good, and then back again – everything is mixed up. Of course, I'm formed in Kraków. For me, Kraków is the source of all inspiration. But my home, my family is in Utrecht.
The label “objects” is the most appropriate for works which elude clear-cut definitions. Foam sponge, builder's silicone, packaging tape etc. are the main materials which I use to create these works. Sometimes, because of the properties of some of the materials which they are made of they have a limited span of existence. But often the roughness and imperfections become make them artistically strong.
In 1986 I began studying painting at the Art Academy in Kraków. A more sophisticated ability to translate my feelings, fascinations, fears and desires within an already present personal sense of aesthetics onto a canvas, or any other material using more or less traditional media is something that I began perfecting in art school. The interaction with skilled and understanding teachers as well as observing the work of fellow students made me aware of the diverse approaches taken to create a painting. I found more ways of treading on my own path.
I really like painting on unusual base, such as zinc plates, which are already exposed to rain. These are old plates, consumed by time and weather. I paint very subtle paintings on such a ground. On the other hand, paintings on a sponge, which may seem harsh in terms of subject matter – are, contrary to appearances, very soft and pleasant. For instance, it is enjoyable to move and hang them.
I love what I've learned from my parents, and what I continue here [in the Netherlands] – wandering, Sunday trips out of the town, mindfulness with which you can look at plants and animals. I am not interested in that professionally and I have no ambition to classify flora and fauna, but with enthusiasm I profess my amateur love for nature. Light, air, clouds, landscapes only seem harsh. A lot of beauty can be found in this rawness.
I like working on sponge because it's a simple, light material and always ready to use. The colour and texture meet my aesthetic requirements and it has a lolof volume and physically, is very present in the space. The ink or paint is immediately absorbed into the foam surface, making any corrections almost impossible. It is a material which lends itself to quick, fast application and is particularly good for spontaneous sketching with paint squeezed directly from the tube. The fact that these works will not last (sponge is not a very durable material) does not deter me; it suits the character of the work very well and to an extent reflects my ideas about art.
I have been working with silicone for years. While I was still studying, I painted on unusual materials, for example on a soft felt. I like material that easily surrenders – you can tame them and “go out” to the third dimension, and at the same time sanctify something that is considered ordinary. Once, I painted on sponges over twenty centimeters long, which create a great illusion of sandstone.