Z marks the spot

Thus speaks Sara Thustra, who offers a "Free Dinner" at City Hall.

By Johnny Ray Huston

THE IDEA OF an art show by Sara Thustra at City Hall seems like a crazy dream – whether raising hell at our mainstreamed LGBT center or adding his own sense of heaven to the local community, Thustra (or Z, as he is known to most friends) sets his sights on the greed and prejudices of power-mongering monsters whenever he has the time – which is just about whenever. His paintings are no exception. In 2003 Z took part in the third installment of "Bay Area Now," where his installation collaboration with Carolyn Ryder Cooley and the great Stormy Knight was perhaps the only overtly politically engaged work. Since then, he's made some eye-grabbing zines, added his own distinct touch of equine beauty to San Francisco streets, and continued to hone his vision on clothes, paper, and other materials. Following in the footsteps of Matt Gonzalez, Sup. Ross Mirkarimi's City Hall art shows have found a true reason for being with Z's "Free Dinner," a series of works that have plenty to say about the space they currently occupy. When I met with Z in a shadowy Mission District air shaft to discuss his art, a bird tattoo graced one of his arms, and a curious cat peeked out through a window behind first his left shoulder, and then from a window behind his right one.

Bay Guardian: Did you have qualms about showing your art in City Hall?

Sara Thustra: I was excited to be in that context, and I took it as an opportunity to be so close to legislation and policy that I feel like responding to. But I had worries that they would ask me to take my paintings down. There's a part of me that thinks about going to City Hall and pouring red paint over the whole motherfucker [laughs]. I participate in a community that regularly speaks out like that. But as the weeks went by, I started to formulate a different response.

BG: To me, it seems as if you made work you might show anywhere.

ST: That's true and not true. The only way it's not true is that I have been veering away from directly political artwork and becoming more interested in emotional spheres. But in a political context, I'll step up to that plate.

BG: One piece gathers different people's thoughts about government.

ST: I asked people in my immediate community what they would say in City Hall if they had the opportunity. From there I whittled down responses. A close friend said, "Give me my fucking house back," and I changed that to, "I want my house back." I called up [writer] Peter Plate and just tried to take a piece of his fury. I also tried to add a lot of love into the statements so that people would want to read them.

BG: You use tons of different colors in a single piece – what, and how, do you think about color?

ST: I made my color decisions when I was young. Alicia McCarthy affects my color trips, and Chris [Johanson] and a lot of people from this neighborhood [the Mission]. Their use of color was a jump-off, but I've started to have my own conversations with color in the last few years. The way color communicates is fucking fascinating. It's an infinite and crazy language. I first learned about color schemes through doing graffiti, just setting up cans and looking at caps.

BG: Have repressive forces changed your approach to street art?

ST: Sure. They make me, like a lot of artists, feel like I don't have space to express myself on the street. It's about articulation for me, and where I want to be articulate. There's a viewpoint about street art that says people should be forced inside, [instead of] out on the streets, raising havoc, making things dirty, and destroying things. But dirt and chaos and unsightliness are much more truthful and representative of the world we live in than whitewash. The culture of capitalism is not expressive, it's not artistic.

BG: Recently a billboard for Lord of War was altered in SF, replacing Nicolas Cage with George Bush. But there seems to be less of that type of visual action in recent years. I guess some of the posters you and others have made for Gay Shame have been exceptions.

ST: People are scared. They're scared to touch the Man's property. If anyone was in their right mind, they'd prefer not to have their hustle bear down on them so intensely in their everyday life.

BG: Did you start making art when you were really young?

ST: Yes, when I was a little kid. I used to build these sculptures in my yard. I was really into taking twigs and leaning them on top of each other until they made this huge pile. I still do that type of nitpicking today – I have an obsessiveness when it comes to arrangement. I didn't go to school for anything [artistic], but during my young teenage years – from 13 to 17 – I drew all the time: weird hesher graffiti that had weed leaves and acid trips in it.

BG: Trapper Keeper art?

ST: Exactly – I'd do them while drinking 40s and going places. I had stacks of drawings that disappeared at one point. I took a drawing sabbatical for a few years while I got sober, between 18 and 20.

BG: What artists did you love at that point?

ST: Other graffiti artists. My sister lived in SF, and she'd send me pictures of things like "Knowledge Is the Key to Our Future," which was a piece by Krush and Dream on 16th Street. What influenced me most about graffiti was that it was accessible.

BG: Let's talk a bit about the zines you've made.

ST: I've made some zines which involve [placing] pictures of my artwork next to stories. I've also done these zines called Dude Sweet that are about trying to show different and more interesting sexualities than the ones that are present in our daily lives. Something I think that's really important for self-discovery is to be aware of your own sexuality and care about it and participate in it. It's so bottled up in all of us, and so horrific in the case of men and women – our daily street interactions, how environments like bars are fraught with violence. I can get on trips where I can see violence and color all around me. We're so complacent about it, and that violence is trapped in our bodies. I've had a chip on my shoulder about this since I was a kid.

BG: Can you tell me a bit about the anticapitalist fashion shows at places like Balazo Gallery?

ST: I'm always trying to think about solutions to the shit that I cry about. I thought, "I don't want to participate in consumerist culture as much, so I want to stop shopping and buying clothes." I started looking into a movement of reusing clothes and refashioning them. I made dinner with a handful of people and said I had this anticapitalist fashion idea. There were a bunch of women in the group who were tripped out by body issues related to the fashion world. Others brought up sexuality and consumerist values. We clearly need to move away from this larger structure that creates fashion across the country. A more organic sensibility would generate tribes and communities of people having their own styles.

BG: Both the anticapitalist fashion shows and what you used to do with Gay Shame protests can be really angry, but also funny.

ST: I work for 10 or 12 hours a day, so I want everything I do to be a celebration of resistance and of a marginalized culture. Celebration is hugely important, and not being judgmental, not worrying about what timeline the world is on – I don't want to meet the system, or hold it up with my hands.

BG: In the '70s, there were a lot of men interested in feminism and men's liberation. These days that focus seems absent.

ST: Fags and dykes from other cities are still excited to visit SF. But I long for that feeling of banding together because of righteous ideas – of wanting a higher consciousness, a more exciting, healthier, sustainable, happier way to live. I'm sad when it dissipates, but I'm hoping that it's going to come back over and over again. And I'm really hoping that it will come back with a monumental synchronicity that will destroy everything that exists right now.

BG: What artists inspire you today?

ST: As far as visual art goes, Xylor Jane inspires me. We've worked alongside each other for a long time, and we're close friends. I find her work amazing, and I love her process. Lately, I'm inspired by people who are living sane and good lives while managing to be activists. People who have integrity in such a rough environment – since we're participating in so much that's bad on a daily basis – and who have found some space inside themselves where they can be healthy and put out a strong, positive message of love.

The best thing for me lately is to remember where art comes from – just kicking it and bringing shit out of your body, putting it out into the world, and doing it for the righteous reason of doing it.

'Free Dinner' runs through Oct. 14; call for hours. Office of Sup. Ross Mirkarimi, City Hall, Room 282, 1 Dr. Carlton B. Goodlett Pl., SF. Free. www.needles-pens.com.