Gonzalo Varela: 'Starting over with nothing, just us', 2026 By Catherine Watson
IN THE paintings of Gonzalo Varela, the world feels both ancient and not-yet-born. Figures drift in luminous, half-ruined landscapes, as if time has folded in on itself.
It’s a fitting visual language for his exhibition, The Second Horizon, now showing at Berninneit Art Gallery.
This is Varela’s return to painting after years of multidisciplinary work, but nothing about it feels like a step backwards. If anything, it’s a deepening, a slower, more introspective process that mirrors his shift from inner-city life (Argentina, Spain, Melbourne) to the quiet of South Gippsland.
IN THE paintings of Gonzalo Varela, the world feels both ancient and not-yet-born. Figures drift in luminous, half-ruined landscapes, as if time has folded in on itself.
It’s a fitting visual language for his exhibition, The Second Horizon, now showing at Berninneit Art Gallery.
This is Varela’s return to painting after years of multidisciplinary work, but nothing about it feels like a step backwards. If anything, it’s a deepening, a slower, more introspective process that mirrors his shift from inner-city life (Argentina, Spain, Melbourne) to the quiet of South Gippsland.
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“I’m a city person,” he says, in the gently fractured cadence he calls Spanglish. “Now I go to the city like a tourist.”
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‘The Second Horizon’ by Gonzalo Varela is on at the Berninneit Art Gallery until May 17. |
He moved with his family to Fish Creek just before Covid and the effect on his art has been profound. “Nature gives me time to go deeper in myself. You see the sky, understand the seasons. When you’re in the city you don’t care much about this.”
The result is work that’s steeped in stillness, even when the subject matter is unsettled. His paintings imagine future worlds built on the ruins of past societies. Figures emerge slowly from washes of colour, as if discovered rather than designed.
The result is work that’s steeped in stillness, even when the subject matter is unsettled. His paintings imagine future worlds built on the ruins of past societies. Figures emerge slowly from washes of colour, as if discovered rather than designed.
Gonzalo Verali: Happy accidents. Photo: Karli
Varela describes his process as beginning in “chaos and confusion,” searching for “light and poetry.” Often, he starts without a clear plan, leaning into what he calls “Happy Accidents”.
“This is starting with no control. Working with the irrational side of the brain, having fun with the material. After that I have a process of taking away and slowly finding the diamond. Well, that’s my intention!”
Varela speaks of painting as a form of purification, a way to “clean myself of all my monsters.” The act matters more than the outcome. “I paint for myself,” he says. “The rest is just a consequence.”
His work insists on slowness, on process, on the physical negotiation between artist and material – “not fighting, dancing with the material”, as he puts it.
“This is starting with no control. Working with the irrational side of the brain, having fun with the material. After that I have a process of taking away and slowly finding the diamond. Well, that’s my intention!”
Varela speaks of painting as a form of purification, a way to “clean myself of all my monsters.” The act matters more than the outcome. “I paint for myself,” he says. “The rest is just a consequence.”
His work insists on slowness, on process, on the physical negotiation between artist and material – “not fighting, dancing with the material”, as he puts it.
“Humanity is lost only to find itself again. We are in a process of evolution.” |
In Starting over with nothing, just us (2026), two figures stand in shallow water, their forms softened and partially dissolved into the landscape. They seem suspended somewhere between states. It’s an image that captures the exhibition’s central tension: are we witnessing an ending, or a beginning?
Varela would say both. “Humanity is lost only to find itself again. We are in a process of evolution.”
That’s also where his thinking about artificial intelligence begins to surface, not as a central theme imposed from outside but as a question that keeps intruding.
“Artificial intelligence … it will give us fast solutions,” he says. “But it’s important to understand the difference between a real thing and a simulation.”
He offers a simple analogy: you can describe the beach, show a video of it, even play the sound of waves, but none of that replaces standing barefoot in the sand, feeling the water.
Though the difference between simulation and reality feels increasingly fragile. Varela recounts a friend using ChatGPT for psychological advice and finding it, disturbingly, more helpful than that of his own therapist.
“These agents respond to very deep human problems actually with a very efficient and surprisingly empathetic reactions. This is something very interesting. I've always thought the machines can’t understand feelings, but it looks like they do, and they do very well.”
But if machines can write, translate, compose, simulate emotional understanding, what remains uniquely human?
Varela would say both. “Humanity is lost only to find itself again. We are in a process of evolution.”
That’s also where his thinking about artificial intelligence begins to surface, not as a central theme imposed from outside but as a question that keeps intruding.
“Artificial intelligence … it will give us fast solutions,” he says. “But it’s important to understand the difference between a real thing and a simulation.”
He offers a simple analogy: you can describe the beach, show a video of it, even play the sound of waves, but none of that replaces standing barefoot in the sand, feeling the water.
Though the difference between simulation and reality feels increasingly fragile. Varela recounts a friend using ChatGPT for psychological advice and finding it, disturbingly, more helpful than that of his own therapist.
“These agents respond to very deep human problems actually with a very efficient and surprisingly empathetic reactions. This is something very interesting. I've always thought the machines can’t understand feelings, but it looks like they do, and they do very well.”
But if machines can write, translate, compose, simulate emotional understanding, what remains uniquely human?
“I've been thinking always art will be impossible to replace. We are unique because we have something the machine doesn't have. Well, it looks like we are not unique. We are very easy to replace in a very cheap way.”
There’s no theatrical doom, just a recalibration. The danger, he suggests, is not the technology itself but our willingness to substitute it for reality.
“The problem is when we put all the eggs in this bag, and we try to replace reality with a simulation. This can be dangerous.”
For all the unease, The Second Horizon leans cautiously towards hope. It’s a perspective shaped by age and experience. Varela recalls advice from his grandfather: that youth is about wanting to burn everything, while later life is about learning to put out fires and look for solutions.
“I think I cross this barrier,” he says. “I’m becoming more a person who wants to find some kind of hope.
“The solution is not in machines or going to other planets. It’s something more small and more easy. Humans need to reconnect with nature. Happiness is understanding the importance of small things.
“It’s inside us, it always was inside us.”
There’s no theatrical doom, just a recalibration. The danger, he suggests, is not the technology itself but our willingness to substitute it for reality.
“The problem is when we put all the eggs in this bag, and we try to replace reality with a simulation. This can be dangerous.”
For all the unease, The Second Horizon leans cautiously towards hope. It’s a perspective shaped by age and experience. Varela recalls advice from his grandfather: that youth is about wanting to burn everything, while later life is about learning to put out fires and look for solutions.
“I think I cross this barrier,” he says. “I’m becoming more a person who wants to find some kind of hope.
“The solution is not in machines or going to other planets. It’s something more small and more easy. Humans need to reconnect with nature. Happiness is understanding the importance of small things.
“It’s inside us, it always was inside us.”
