BARCELONA--
Fraud. It has been an omnipresent term for the past six years here in Barcelona, home to two different Olympic Games. Yes, two. In 1992, while the world watched the efforts and triumphs of some of the best amateur athletes on the planet, a parallel competition unfolded on the other side of the city. Of course, it received much less publicity-- only 153 spectators and participants attended-- but even so, it was by far the more innovative and important of the two. It was the inaugural Fraud Olympic Games.
The Fraud spokesperson (he prefers this title to the more traditional ones of president or chairman) is Jordi Pex. He recently broke his six-year stint of low-lying clandestine activity to hold an unprecedented, if low-key, press conference in a new central café here in Barcelona, situated in what was a clothing store only a short while ago. As counter-cultural institutions tend to do, it will most likely have ceased to exist by the time this article is published.
Given the significance of his talk, he chose his location well. The high ceilings echoed his words like those of a revolutionary leader, leaving them to float like an imitation of liberty between tufts of tobacco smoke and the unpredictable melodies of the eclectic soundtrack. Only somewhat distracted by the changes in the lighting wrought by the numerous candles, Pex declared what could potentially change the art world. "In the year 2000," he began, "the FRAUD Olympics will resume."
It was an unforgettable scene. Many of the journalists in attendance had no idea what he was talking about, nor even why they were there. However, those lucky enough to have informed themselves beforehand could only suppress their chills and wait, pens poised and tape recorders ready, for the rest of his statement.
"In 1992," Pex continued, "the entire city was immersed in the Olympics. The whole world was punch drunk, foolish grins stretched across their traps. It seemed as if, from this moment on, everything was going to change. What most people did not want to recognize was the extraordinary effort, funded by Barcelona City Hall, to clean up the city's image. During the three weeks in which the games were held, all of the vagabonds were taken off the streets. For months in advance, the most marginalized populations suffered police persecution. And all of this simply to give a more wholesome picture of Barcelona to the rest of the world."
"It was during this epoch that a group of artists, including myself, many of them already well-entrenched in Fraud Art, met and discussed Barcelona's image problems. We came up with the idea of holding an alternative Olympics that very day. At the same time, we wanted to show that Barcelona has more to offer than jocks, fanatics and tourism and make a statement against the government's newest face-saving methods. And of course, to provide new inspirations for our art."
Beginning precisely six weeks before the opening ceremony of the official Olympics, the organizers of the Fraud Olympics began to spread the word. They declined more traditional methods, such as invitations or public announcements, as they did not wish to leave any trace of their actions. Perhaps because of this, attendance was not overwhelming. Still, more than one bold-faced name appeared on the list of guests and participants. Among them were Spinktzsarus Nil, the Reverend Portsick, the Lady Wem, and Yuri Gillespie.
Still, artists are not athletes and no one was there to prove otherwise. On the contrary, the goal was to create new events which would test, and ultimately hone, the abilities of the competitors. For example, in the Olympic Paint-Off, artist were forced to employ the tactics of American and Parisian artists from the middle of this century, such as Jackson Pollock and Yves Klein, by painting at top speed. It was assumed the very lack of pre-meditation would ensure that only the true spontaneous spirit, driven by the emotional vibes that charged the air, would show through on the canvases. And so it was. We can consider ourselves indebted to this simple event for such modern classics as A Dutch Artist Stooping in Barcelona, The Fish, When It Is Winter in Water, Opens its Mouth, and Look at All that Gravel in the Corner.
Other events included: Sculpture Utilizing Whatever You Can Find Within a Block, Simultaneous Screaming Poetry Slams, Tourist Home Videos (with a limit of five minutes and three settings; all sports scenes prohibited), The Readymade Scavenger Hunt, and Body Painting with Raspberry Yoplait TM (their only corporate sponsor).
Although the Fraud Games seemed hastily and haphazardly thrown together, and though there were a number of problems to overcome (three artists were not allowed over the Spanish border due to possession of mild-grade hallucinogens), in the end, most people able to view at least one of the five full days during which the games were held, were more than content.
Obviously, finding a locale to put on the show was no mean feat, not with scores of guardias urbanas to evade at every step. Pex explained, "We had to hold the event in an occupied industrial warehouse in order to make fun of the police and, at the same time, avoid them. We ended up in Poble Nou, a neighborhood not particularly known for its artistic endeavors. It was ingenious. The occupants were more than happy to lend us their space for the games, and some even participated with surprising results. Mr. Palermo himself came in only a distant second in the Performance Art with Tablecloths competition, losing out to a local man with an inordinate amount of creativity. The gold medallist never gave us his name. Since then, no one has seen him, though there are rumors he has taken his craft to Milan."
But this is the past. Pex's words address the future. "We have to prepare ourselves for the turn of the century. The failure to repeat the events in 1996, due to the huge number of expatriates who refused to reenter their homeland of the United States, where we had intended the events to take place, meant aborting the second anniversary; nevertheless, it has never occurred to us to abandon the idea of a 'competition' or, more appropriately, a creative and supportive reunion that would be held every four years. It is the ideal way to observe the progress and necessities of a movement of unlimited potential, with members of unparalleled quality."
For now, Pex continues working on his project of welding Spanish coins, which soon will be replaced by the Euro and have lost much of their value, into abstract sculptures of Iberian ham. He has yet to complete any of his started pieces, but in his own words, "life is all about alchemy."
--Neneta Peteta, Iberian Correspondent
October 4, 1998
