Gelo Zarsuelo is a painter based in Aklan whose art explores themes of identity and intimacy in queer experiences. His artworks delve into the politics of the body, capturing the subtle emotions and tensions within non-binary relationships and personal encounters. Growing up in a conservative and religious society, his art reflects the struggle of navigating queerness in a space where it is often marginalized. In his recent works, Zarsuelo has also started to document provincial life.
Often balancing bold and muted colors, his paintings are visual representations of the intensity of repressed emotions and the quiet defiance of queer presence. Through his art, Zarsuelo tells stories of longing, self-discovery, and resilience. He is turning personal narratives into broader reflections on youth, memory, and belonging.
‘through him, to him’ is a love letter to every version of myself that got me to where I am now. I painted this self-portrait for my 24th birthday, using a photo of my 14-year-old self as reference. I was a boy who spent so much time hiding, scared of being seen.
The photo I used was taken ten years ago, a time when I hid my sexuality from the world. Funnily enough, I happened to cover myself with fabric in that picture as if it were a symbol of who I was back then. Painting the photo and that moment feels like a way to honor that past version of me — the one who was figuring things out, and waiting for the right time to step into the light.
I love how I painted the fabric in this piece — the way it wraps around me yet leaves just enough space for my eyes to draw you in. They become the focal point as if they’re trying to say something, to reach out. I wanted to convey the presence of quiet longing to be seen and to be understood, and at the same time a hesitation — a fear of being too exposed. I think this painting captures that feeling of being in between important life moments that happen when a person comes of age. For me, I was figuring myself out, caught between hiding and wanting to be found.
I recently moved out of my studio and returned home after three years. My room here has a huge window, letting in plenty of natural sunlight, which has been helping me wake up earlier than I used to in my old space. And honestly, I’m loving it. It gets me into a good rhythm. I start my day with a cup of coffee, make breakfast, then dive into work for a few hours before having a late lunch.
Lately, I’ve also been using my phone less in the mornings, and it’s made a big difference in how my day starts.
I usually work on multiple paintings at the same time, each at a different stage. I sometimes start a painting with a sketch, while I make final touches to other pieces that I started earlier. The sizes vary too—some are big enough for my easel, while others are small enough for me to work on my table.
Except on days when I have deadlines, I decide what to work on based on what excites me the most that day. I just follow my intuition. Working with this process, I avoid being stuck on one piece and maintain the excitement of painting as I uncover each piece in different stages. I also feel less pressure working on several pieces at once; I don’t feel the weight of having to finish one painting right away.
This painting captures a special moment I had with Jacky, my stepsister. She would excitedly come to me after school, showing off the “Very Good” stamps on her hands like trophies. Those stamps meant a lot to her and they reminded me to appreciate my hard work as well.
As we grow up, we tend to brush off our small successes, often focusing on big milestones. But these little victories — whether it’s getting a “Very Good” stamp in school or just showing up for the day, deserves to be celebrated too! This painting is a reminder to honor these moments, both for ourselves and for the people we love.
The painting is based on a photo of her hands and their stamps in school. I painted the background with the paper they use to practice writing, and the detail extends onto the sides of the canvas which I personally find super cute.
I love how I’m diving into my own experiences and seeing how they still connect with so many people. This painting started as a quiet exploration of my family ties and the rhythm of life in the province. Looking at it now, I feel like this piece—along with my “Ginbahoean” series—marks a shift in my art journey, a bridge between where I’ve been and where I’m headed. And honestly, I can’t wait to keep exploring what comes next.
