Gonzalo García is a painter based in Mexico City. Throughout his body of work, he juxtaposes a deeply personal exploration of the self with an investigation of larger social and historical themes of nationhood and culture in Mexico. From addressing issues of prominent violent events, the sexualization and vulnerability of the body, and identity within the homosexual community.

You have referenced your childhood in Puebla and Mexico City as formative years. Can you describe a specific moment or memory that has formed your artistic practice?

A couple of years ago, I saw a film called Amanecer Rojo. It's about the 1968 massacre of students in Mexico City, and the entire story takes place in one of the students' apartments. The apartment set used for filming had lithographs of bouquets of flowers hanging on the walls. When I was a child, my grandmother also used to hang her own lithographs on the walls of our house. I found that connection really interesting. Back then, I thought these lithographs were real paintings—real art. So yeah, I connect much of my heritage and memories with topics I'm interested in painting, like these bouquets of flowers.

As a gay man living in Mexico, how did dealing with questions of sexuality shape you as an artist?

I started studying at the University of the Arts because I loved to draw. But at some point, I naturally began to wonder about my own sexuality, especially since I was living in Mexico, where machismo and this form of toxic masculinity are very present. I wanted to explore that in my art. I come from a very Catholic family, which wasn't very open. For a long time it was kind of taboo for me to deal with my experience as a gay man in my artwork, but when I eventually started doing so, I felt relieved. I also came to understand how art can provide access to one's thoughts and knowledge. That changed my perception a lot. I started drawing not only because I enjoy it, but also to discover something about my spirituality and knowledge of the world through the process.

You mentioned drawing as a fundamental part of your artistic practice. Could you explain your process of moving from a drawing to painting?

Yes, I actually studied etching and not painting in university. But after I finished university, I started to think in color. I was developing this series about markets here in Mexico. During my daily walks to the university, I passed through these markets and saw beef hanging in the stores. So I began to merge my self portraits and the beef hanging in the markets, as a kind of parallel about how I was feeling about my own sexuality. At some point I started to think that that had to be in color, because the language of painting and color is very different from the one that you develop with drawing. With color, you can manage to create a whole body just with a shape, that's very interesting to me.

Do you think painting can tackle subjects like toxic masculinity and machismo, in ways that other media couldn't?

I always think about the tradition of painting, like the Western and European traditions. Here in Latin America, we learn to paint the European way. You study Rembrandt and all the great painters in history. Then, you learn to develop your own vision and incorporate your Latin American experience into your art. But you also learn the taboos. You learn that many topics are still not suitable for painting. Male nudes, for example, are perceived differently in photography than in painting. In photography they're erotic or sexual. We are used to seeing them there, but not in painting. It feels more uncomfortable, and I think that's an interesting thing. I'm currently developing new works on the theme of castration, inspired by a Mexican film from the '70s called Los Cachorros. You don't see many painters in the history of Western painting who work with the topic of castration. I wonder why we always deal with the same topics in painting. Why don't we develop new ways to explore our experiences as human beings and address these types of issues in painting?

So, is that also a way to shock with your paintings, breaking these taboos?

Yeah, totally. But I also think that painting is about mystery. I'm not saying I'm unaware of the shocking aspects of my paintings, but I think that's only the beginning of the conversation. Ultimately, you realize it's about mystery; it's about what you don't see in the painting. I think it's an interesting perspective with which to discuss these types of taboos or issues. I always think that makes a lot of sense, especially as an artist living in Mexico. Painting castrations in Spain, Italy, or Berlin is not the same as in Mexico, because machismo is a strong part of our culture and daily lives. It also becomes political, but after all, it's just painting. I'm not a politician; I'm just trying to portray what interests me as an artist in my paintings. However, the interpretation of these works can become political. You can see all the layers in the painting.

How do you approach symbolism in your works?

I always consider what elements should be included in a painting. For example, I think about tension and violence, but not in a literal way. I also think about beautiful colors and aesthetics. This gives me an idea of what type of symbolism to use to portray the violence, softness, and eroticism in the image. Then, I start constructing the painting with these forces inside the artwork.

I draw a lot of symbolism from cinema. For instance, these types of arms in my paintings come from Buñuel's film El Ángel Exterminador. In the film, there's a scene where a severed hand walks past a woman who is trying to sleep on a couch. She sees this and gets terrified. I thought this image was amazing. I mean, how do you portray horror with only the body? Well, seeing a hand walking in front of your couch would certainly be shocking. And then I started thinking about how to incorporate the language of cinema into my paintings. In painting, there are no rules; you can include anything, and I think that's wonderful.

You also work with collages, right?

Yes, collages are very important to me in my practice because I think it is a way to turn off your conscious mind. Your awareness of composing a painting changes, as does your mindset. When I make a collage, randomness begins to take control. I think that gives you new ways to see your own work and adds a new perspective on what you see in films and paintings. I love making collages the traditional way. I tried making them digitally but I think I like analog better. You have to manage things with your hands, if something needs to be smaller or bigger, you have to work with what you have. That randomness is interesting because it helps achieve the mystery I mentioned before. There's mystery in randomness, how a painting emerges and finds its own language. So yeah, I love collages.

Are there specific artists and directors that inspire you?

I'm very interested in female artists. I don't know, I just simply love the perspective of female experience in art and painting. So I love Ambera Wellmann, also Paula Rego, a wonderful painter. She passed away in 2022 and I saw a retrospective here in Mexico and it was just amazing. Some of my contemporary painters from Mexico are my influences. They have had a huge impact on my work, for example, Lucia Vidales and Ana Segovia. Also Francis Bacon, of course.

And for films, I work a lot with Arturo Ripstein films from the 70s. I also love Jorge Fons. Los Cachorros is one of my favorite films of his. So yeah, I love all the great Mexican directors from the 70s. Apart from Cronenberg, of course.

Could you also imagine working with different mediums, like film?

I actually teach animation in university and I'm very, very interested in making my own animations. But I mean, I try and I fail because it's so different, to have an image in movement. I'm very good with non-movement images. But yeah, I mean, why not? I'm always trying to make sculptures and I'm also not very skilled *laughs*. Once you understand the language of two-dimensional space, I think it's very difficult to switch to another, such as three-dimensional space. But I love experimenting, so maybe I'll make a film in the future.

Your work has been exhibited in various group shows, including at the Kornfeld Galerie here in Berlin. How do you approach group shows, and how do you collaborate with curators?

For me, I think it's all about discovering new ways to interpret my work through these collaborations. For example, the Kornfield Gallery show curated by Nina Chkareuli-Mdivani, an amazing New York-based curator. She has a great way of interpreting works and finding conversations between them. Her interpretation of the works was new to me and it was a great opportunity to understand more about my own practice.

I also had the opportunity to get to know Rusudan Khizanishvili, who was also part of the group show, very well on the trip to Berlin. I think we have a lot in common. Painting is a universal language, and I've noticed that approaches to painting in Mexico and Georgia—where Rusudan is from—are similar. Maybe the issues are different, but the artistic experience of making paintings has many similar processes. So you naturally connect with other artists on a deeper level. It's not only because you like their work on Instagram, but also because you understand the human aspect of their work through those types of conversations. I think that's amazing.

Whether you are a painter from Latin America, China, or elsewhere, your heritage and experience as a human being help you understand your issues with the topics you are trying to portray in your paintings.

What are you working on right now?

I'm going to have my second solo show at Cam Gallery here in Mexico City. I'm actually very excited. It starts in September. I should be painting right now *laughs*. The show will feature new paintings with a new perspective on the film Los Cachorros. I've actually already exhibited paintings inspired by the film in New York this year. But for this upcoming show, I wanted to create something different yet still incorporate the same references and symbolism. The paintings are also inspired by an exhibition I saw in Berlin, From Odesa to Berlin, at Gemäldegalerie. On my trip to Berlin, I wasn't thinking about creating art. I was just a tourist. But when I visited this exhibition, I was very inspired by the 16th century biblical paintings presented there. So I went to the art store, bought this very small sketchbook and started sketching the new paintings, which I'm going to show in September. It’s new and experimental.

Will you also work with a curator for the show in September?

Yes, I think it's important to work with curators. As I said, they have their own perspective on the work, which is interesting to me as an artist. The curator for my show in September curated the Pavilion of Mexico at last year's Venice Biennale. Her name is Tania Ragasol, she's amazing. I had a studio visit with her last week, where I showed her all my new works. She was very kind and receptive. She also has a good understanding of my processes. I sent her texts, books, and films, and she watched and read them all. She came to the studio with questions. I think that's the best way to work with a curator—not only have them write the text and maybe hang the paintings, but to also have a conversation. So, yeah, I'm very excited.

Interview by Paul Prell