Carlos Sáez
HIGH GEAR
Scrapyard sculptor
Valencian
Mega advanced
Works with superstars like Rosalía and Arca
Prefers ass to cock
Founded Pluto, an experimental art space
Motohead
Takes interviewer to cruising
Andrew: I gather you like machines.
Carlos: I LOVE machines.
What does that mean?
Lately, I surprise myself about how much I’m into them – aesthetically, physically and what they represent. I started out using them as a metaphor in my art for futurism, especially motorbikes.
How long have you had a bike?
I grew up here in Valencia, and this city has a big motorbike culture. Growing up, everyone rode motorbikes. But lately it’s become more sentimental, more, I would say…
…sexual?
It is sexual, yeah. Though, it’s not like you see a motorbike and you get a hard-on. It’s more like a fantasy, like voyeurism.
Have you ever tried a fuck machine?
I wouldn’t say that I like to fuck machines.
No, no. I mean, have you tried a fuck machine where like a mechanical arm, you know, fucks you with a dildo?
Oh! Of course, I’ll try anything. But for now, there are other priorities.
Like?
See, I know there’s a physical approach to mechanophilia. A functional machine that pleasures you. But in my case, it’s more mental. I think machines are sexy because of what they mean and how they look.
Hmm.
See, I’m into morphological freedom. A post-humanist mentality or mindset. The civil right to have complete control over your own body. I’ve always been fascinated by this idea of designing your own body. Actually, my favorite character in ‘Dragon Ball’ was Majin Buu, which is this guy who absorbs people and changes his body by making fusions. He’s the pink one. I don’t know why, but this turns me on.
The first time I saw your work was the mechanical Chihuahua claw you made with Arca.
This morphological freedom concept specifically comes from of my relationship with someone that had the need to transition. When I was with Alejandra, I was already working with this idea in a more conceptual context, this idea of using machines that have been abandoned by the recent past.
Like, building a new machine-body?
Yeah, it all came very organically. It came out of a lot of love and support for each other. Before knowing Alejandra, I was working way more digitally, not sculpture. I created this online gallery called Cloaque.org. We called it a digital landfill, a place to put all the garbage you found on the internet. It worked as a cadavre exquis, “an exquisite corpse” – this surrealist game. We connected different net artists to create a never-ending artwork.
Did you ever do anything kinky with the claw?
Not yet…
Shame.
(laughs) But really, it’s not so crazy to have sexual and love associations to machines. They’re powerful. And with AI there’s even a new terrain. A machine can have a persona and identity. You can easily fall in love with that, like in the movie ‘Her’. You fall in love with a type of consciousness.
(points) Can you tell me about the motorcycle hanging from the celling?
I found it in a scrapyard. It’s a busted motorbike, where the front wheel is torn off. It’s a metaphor for how technology is moving so fast, but no one is in control.
But you think that instead of being scared of it, we should turn it on its head and embrace it?
That’s why I put these two materials together like this, wrapping the bike body with lingerie. Lingerie is something that attracts me. Meanwhile, the motorbike has no wheel in the front, so you cannot direct it. All that’s left is the back wheel – the engine propelling you forward.
The pleasure of the ride!
The uncontrollable pleasure. I feel like something that we’re experiencing right now, culturally. With our data, everything we do online. You know it’s beyond your control, but you do it anyway.
It’s bad for you, but it’s good. Need for speed.
Exactly. Like sex.
Have you, like, gotten into or participated in any gay biking subcultures. Like motohead meetups?
I never went to a meetup, but I’m really into the porn. I like to watch it. It turns me on a lot.
In the US after the Second World War, there were a lot of gay biker gangs, Harley culture. But then it kind of died. But I remember when I first lived in Paris, I was so taken by the presence of the Euro motohead subculture. The head-to-toe Fox outfits, the helmet under the arm at the bar.
Gay culture in the end is a lot about visualizing yourself in a way that makes you feel sexy. How you visualize yourself in contrast to something familial. Family equals car. A motorbike is something for yourself. It’s more selfish, and sexy.
You need to write a manifesto of gay mechanophilia one day.
I’m not a writer, but I’ll make art for the show about it.
Where are we now? What is Pluto?
It’s hard to describe, because it’s always changing. It’s a spot where you can express radical art ideas without the need to leave Valencia. I like to think about Pluto as a ruin from an old world, that’s becoming a castle for a new species. Literally, it’s an old rice-processing facility. But in recent times, it was a mechanics’ garage, a dumpster for old cars and engine parts. When we found it, it was full of oil. We cleaned it and turned it into an art space.
Hot. What’s the community like?
I have one story that illustrates the community. There’s this 55-year-old guy who got a studio space. He was a cybernetics guy, worked in telecom all his life. When the pandemic hit, he was fired, so he decided to try art. With his knowledge, he was helping me with many projects, like the helmet for Rosalía. One time, we went to Madrid and had a dinner with my friend, the poet Juan de la Perla. Afterwards, driving home, he started crying, telling me, ‘I really need to say thank you for showing me this world. Before getting involved in Pluto, I had a totally different perspective of what a trans person is like. What LGBTQ meant.’
Awn.
I realized that unintentionally, there were two worlds meeting at Pluto – this technical world and this experimental world. I had introduced this old tradesman to a queer young person and soon they developed a business together.
You should be a politician!
(laughs) All of this is happening in this abandoned place, like something new growing from these ruins of a starship. A new thing growing amidst old machinery.
Do you like living in Valencia?
I like it here. At some point, I’ll need to leave. But I do think I’ll die here. It’s a very comfortable city. But sometimes this comfort can turn into an inconvenience because you need a push away from your circumstances to make new things happen.
Are there enough hot guys here? Or are you sick of them?
I miss that part. It’s not like there aren’t hot guys, it’s just not like bigger cities where you meet guys who are mentally in, like, the same vibe.
Tell me about your childhood. How did it influence who you are today?
I grew up as the third boy of three brothers. I think that influenced me. We were always hanging out and going around on motorbikes, down to the beach.
It’s not so crazy to have sexual and love associations to machines. They’re powerful.
So nothing crazy and traumatic.
Well, I was bit of a troublemaker. There was always a party and I was a party boy from a young age, like 14 years old.
When did you come out?
I only started experimenting with guys when I moved to Madrid. I mean, for sure I had some weird encounters with my teenage party friends before. But I found myself once I moved away.
Were you a really “online” person as a teenager?
Not really. I was more out and social. I started working at a young age. I was already working in clubs by the time I was 15. Doing promotion and PR.
What kind of clubs?
These big spots called the Face, and Blue. It was this house music era here. The 2000s. Ministry of Sound was the big reference. We were always going by motorbike to the club, like a gang of 20 boys. But this was later in the 2000s – not the infamous Ruta del Bakalao program from the 90s where you could stay partying for three days.
La Ruta del Bakalao?
As someone who grew up in Valencia, I can say that the term encapsulates this spirit, this feeling of wanting to keep something alive with body movement, dancing, energy and music.
But what is it literally?
It’s a few different things, all coming from a political situation of people wanting to free themselves after the dictatorship. It ended in Valencia with electronic music. This local industry of clubs would organize and create a clubbing program so that you could keep partying from Thursday to Monday, without stop.
And people did?
For sure. It was drug-fueled. It was an endurance test. Bacardi made this ad back then that said, ‘Dormirás cuando mueras.’ You will sleep when you die.
Why is it called “Bakalao”?
It means codfish. Some people say that it’s a fresh product they were selling by the beach. Unlike the partiers – the irony. There are a lot of theories. I’d say that Musica Machina is a main trigger of my work.
What’s Musica Machina?
It’s a local genre of electronic “machine music” that was hitting commercially when I was young. Even this TV program for kids was playing Machina. It’s deep in the city culture. I was obsessed. Outside of Spain, it’s pretty unknown. I mean, everyone knows Ibiza, but not La Ruta del Bakalao.
I imagine it wasn’t very gay?
No, but there were queer elements. All nightclub scenes have this thing where you build a fantasy that you cannot find during the day. A space for something queer to happen. I’m very happy that now Musica Machina is a “trans” thing that’s super embedded in the queer community here.
Is this the kind of music you program at Pluto parties?
Yeah, we program this. Lots of experimentation and fast BPMs. I think it’s very important for every type of artform to not be super fixed on genres.
Totally.
Music is like food. Both represent what’s going on socially. When I was younger, we only listened to house music and I didn’t really know anyone that wasn’t Spanish and white. As soon as the Latin rhythms came to Spain, I’d see younger generations mix.
The music started to mix, and then the people did.
Yes. At the end of the day, any phobia is fear. And fear is ignorance. So, as soon as you know the sounds of another culture and the taste of another culture, you feel more comfortable with that culture. That’s why it’s so important to mix them. That’s why I was always a bit against the whole “cultural appropriation” thing. As long as it comes from a pure and personal interest in culture, it’s a good thing. That’s why I think it’s so important to mix everything – it gets people to understand other cultures and not fear them. It’s the same with music genres. It’s not a casualty. In electronic music it makes more sense to talk about BPMs than genres, because everything is bastardized. You don’t know where it comes from.
So back to La Ruta del Bakalao. It’s by a lot of the gay cruising beaches, right? Where we went yesterday.
Yes. The most popular clubs of La Ruta are along the Playa de Pinedo, south of the city. The famous circuit between clubs like Spook Factory, Don Julio and Barraca are all in this same street where the cruising and nudist beaches are located. It’s definitely a liberating spot for me, from when I was a kid til now. When I feel super stressed, I take my motorbike there. As soon as I leave the city and start to feel the breeze across the cañas, the marsh, I just feel liberated from any pain. It’s one of the reasons I’m still living here.
Is this where you took me yesterday?
No, we went to a beach further down close to Albufera, which is the lake that gives water to all the rice fields outside the city. This area is extra special for me. It’s a nudist zone and a cruising spot. It’s more separated from civilization than Pinedo.
What kind of sex happens at Pinedo versus Albufera?
At Pinedo you find more, let’s say, circuit guys. Groups of friends partying. Everyone is looking at everyone. It’s like you’re in a gay club. Down by Albufera, it’s more intimate. People go alone to relax. More old-school cruising culture. Like a dance.
What kind of sex have you had at Albufera? Any favorite memories or stories?
When I cruise there. I like this idea of meeting someone, having sex, but then going to the beach after to talk. But then I like knowing I don’t have the responsibility to meet this person again. It’s like a perfect mix. It’s not like express sex, but it’s also not like a relationship. It’s beautiful.
Is there anyone interesting you’ve ever met there?
Well, I’m surprised how many heterosexual men – or at least guys who live their lives like a straight man – go there. I remember meeting someone, I was really into him, but he’d never give me his number. I fucked him multiple times. At some point I’d stop seeing him as much because I started a relationship so I was going there less. That’s when, of course, this guy finally decides to find me on Instagram. I guess the sex was so good, that once he stopped getting it, he needed to find me.
What is good sex for you?
I like surprises and I really like care. I mean, I like to have hard sex, always, but I really need love in the mix, even if I don’t know the person at all. Kissing! It could be anonymous, but there needs to be intimacy.
Do you like roles?
Love them. I can do, like, literally anything. I also try to experiment with myself. But I feel like when I’m the top, it’s hard to bottom and the other way around. Yeah. So I like to think about why some people turn me on as a bottom, and why others turn me on as a top.
Like, ask yourself, ‘What’s the psychology at play here?’
Always when I think I’m certain about my role, I meet someone that challenges that logic. Like, I think I know why I like to top someone – they have an amazing ass, right? But then next time it’s the other way around. I meet someone who has an amazing ass, but I want him to top me.
Yeah, you think you figured out your matrix of types, but then…
I like to study it, to think about questions like, why in pornography is it always the brunette guy fucking the blonde guy? Why is a lighter-skinned guy getting fucked by a darker guy? What’s the psychology behind that? It’s like playing chess with uncontrollable desire, and pleasure.
What was it like dating someone while they were transitioning?
Life-changing. For the good. Not just because of that condition, because of the person. Alejandra and I have this very very strong connection. I used to think my sexuality and my attraction was conditioned by shape, or gender expression. I was always into the mantra that the most important thing is personality and the mind. But then I realized how this platitude is actually true. Literally, if you love someone, this person could turn into a frog, and you’d still be attracted to them.
Before, did you put yourself more in a box, because of culture, like, “I’m a gay guy”?
I realized that when you love someone, it doesn’t really matter. I was surprised how I was still really into someone going through this change. I mean, I think it’s important to make this clear – I’ve always loved feminine references in men, especially lingerie – I’m obsessed with that – but I wouldn’t say I’m someone that chases super feminine guys, or trans women. Sometimes, yes. But it’s not something I fetishize. But then I found myself suddenly in a heterosexual relationship. Even out of bed, our dynamics turned into straight ones.
Did that make you rethink your own sexuality?
I still consider myself a gay guy. I like that. I want to keep working on that term (laughs). But also, after our relationship, I was open again to experiment with women. And I tried – I liked it. It was friendly sex, with a friend.
I feel you.
I don’t like to turn it into a sex thing immediately either. If I connect with someone, I’m open to try. But also, after having a relationship with someone that you connect with so deeply about art and everything, I try to avoid a relationship that can feel similar. I guess I closed some doors, but I don’t think I’m going find another Alejandra. It wasn’t only my sexuality that opened up, but also the way I understand love and the idea of a relationship.
How so?
I want to find someone that can live with the story that I already have. I’m not talking about a polyamory thing. If I meet someone, he’s invited to join the family. But I can’t be with someone that needs me 100 percent.
I don’t know why, but this turns me on.
You’re queer family building. Okay, I have this urgent speed round of “C-words”. C for “Carlos”. Free association.
Shoot.
Catholicism.
I want to say, ‘No, thanks.’ But it’s part of me. I was raised in a super Catholic context socially.
What was that like?
It wasn’t so hard because my family was always very open and supportive of me, but when you grow up around the Church there are certain values that are omnipresent. I think Catholicism sets up a lot of values in your head. Later, to be free for things like sex, you still do it, but you still hide it a bit. There’s shame, always.
Okay… Condoms.
What do I feel about them? It’s a tool, it’s a technology. I hope it becomes like a floppy-disk, and soon will be obsolete.
Do you use them?
I use them. Sometimes not. Depends. I use them especially in my single periods, fucking around.
Churros.
I love the animal, but not bullfighting. Wait, toros?
No, churros.
Churros! I like them. Lately, I’ve been trying to eat less fried, super tasty stuff. Not only because of health, but also because when you have it too often, you lose the pleasure. You can’t indulge too much. I like when it’s a special thing.
Cocaine.
It’s, like, so eighteenth century for me. Too old. I can still have a bump. It’s nice to have a bit of vintage, like a throwback.
Calatrava.
Love-hate. It’s like Catholicism. He’s from Valencia, so his architecture has been around my entire life. You have to deal with it. You have to learn how to take the good parts from it. But it’s also good to know how much public money was wasted on it.
Aesthetically, though, you must like it? It’s techy and futuristic.
It’s like a movie set. Whatever controversy there was, you can’t deny the artistic quality of it and what it brought to Valencia. It’s one of the things that put Valencia on the map. I really like to look at the Ciudad de las Artes y de las Ciencias as I leave the city on my bike towards the beaches. The urban architecture merges into the countryside, but you can still see this Calatrava spaceship on the horizon. It’s like ‘District 9’. It’s a paradox of two worlds, contrasting landscapes.
Any other C-words that you love?
Hmmm… Cocktails! It’s the only way I usually drink alcohol.
What’s your favorite?
Amaretto. And pisco sours. What about cocks! How come you haven’t asked me that?
Okay… Cocks. (laughs)
I’m not a super cock fan.
They aren’t your obsession?
They don’t upset me. I mean, everyone likes to see a beautiful cock, but yeah, I don’t know. I’m not a cock size fan. I really don’t care.
But you like big asses?
I like a big ass. And this doesn’t mean I’m more of a top. I just like them.
Originally published in BUTT 35