"Shooting Franco's head off was very satisfying."

BarcelonaFranco's anger hasn't subsided, even 50 years after his death. This Thursday, shortly after 5 p.m., when a match was scheduled to begin with a replica of the dictator's boss in Moià, a storm broke out. There was lightning, thunder, and hail. After some hesitation, it was decided to play an hour later. "It will go ahead at all costs," the organizers said. "It's satisfying to kick Franco in the head, it's social therapy, and there's no violence involved in kicking a ball. Violence is not condemning Israel," the artist asserts. Eugenio Merino, the creator of the replica, has a long body of work laden with acidic irony and sarcasm against fascism. Among other actions, he placed Franco on a Coca-Cola cooler.

Merino's proposal, together with the American collective Indecline and within the contemporary art festival Ex Abrupto, was a football match that was anything but conventional. The field was undulating and irregular, right next to the Moià trenches, which were built in the final days of the Civil War, when the town had already been razed, with the aim of delaying the advance of the Nationalist army towards the city of Vic. The site, where bullet casings have also been found, is very close to the Toll caves. The ball was also not entirely round but rather eggplant-shaped because it was a hyper-realistic replica of Franco's corporal. The players were all volunteers, dressed in black and red, the colors of the CNT, and eager to kick hard.

The call-up was public, and the only requirement was to play reasonably well; it's not easy to do so on a bumpy, wet field with the head of a decrepit dictator whose shadow still lingers. "It was very satisfying to kick Franco's head, but I didn't think it would weigh so much; he must have his soul inside," says Berta Coll, a trans player who signed up because she believes it's important to remember that we must keep fighting because we're so far from equality.

Before the game started, some players asked if they could kick it really hard. Merino's only instruction was to aim for the goal. "Wow, it's heavy," lamented more than one. The intention was to get a good kick in, but it wasn't easy. "Hit fascism hard!" exclaimed one player as he ran. The field was small, and the head, which became muddy and unhinged as the game progressed, rolled slowly.

Among the audience, more than one person was dying to kick him. Marc Borràs, 12, who lives in France, had come to accompany his father, Ramon, but ultimately decided to play. "I really like playing soccer, and Dad explained who Franco was," he says. "The head is very hard, and it wasn't easy to kick it," he adds. "At first, the idea shocked me, but kicking Franco's head near the trenches makes perfect sense. My goal was to hit him hard, and it was a pleasure to do it, because with everything going on in the world, you feel very powerless. At least I got to kick a dictator," Ramon assures.

The final fate of Franco's corporal

This isn't the first time Merino has organized such a unique soccer match. He held one with a replica of Trump's boss on the Mexican border, and another with a replica of former Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro in Sao Paulo. "It's an act of reflection, of criticism, of questioning the dictatorship and the far right, which unfortunately is quite present among young people. Soccer is a very popular sport; it has a great power to attract people, and with the shooting, we want to destroy the narrative of Francoism, an ideology that had brutal consequences. It's not art," says Merino, who isn't at all concerned about how fascists feel. "Any fascist can feel however they want; freedom of expression protects me, and I've already won a trial in this regard; if I were in Germany, it would be a crime to praise Hitler," he says. The final destination of the replica of the dictator's boss will be the trenches, where he will be buried. Furthermore, the soccer match will be broadcast at the town's bar.

This performance, baptized with the name of The Generalissimo Cup,marks the start of the tenth edition of Ex Abrupto, held annually in the municipality of Moià (Moianès), where works of art are exhibited in the courtyards and homes of residents on San Sebastián Street in Moià. "Our programming is always political; we show pieces that invite thought and a critical vision. And on the occasion of the 50th anniversary of Franco's death and the current rise of the far right, we also wanted to focus on aspects of memory," explains Eudald Pla, director of the festival. In this sense, previously unpublished photographs of the municipality in the 1940s will also be shown: "You can clearly see how fascism and the Church mix in different social events," highlights Pla.

More than forty artists participate in the festival, and this year's edition places a very important emphasis on historical memory. The official opening will be on Friday with Inverted narrative by Mabel Olea and the Moianès Chamber Orchestra. Vanesa Peña Alarcón will premiere From the threshold of a dream they called me, which recovers the oral memory of the Republican resistance. Among many other works, you'll also be able to see a rather irreverent piece by María Cañas and Estudio San Martín: The Artificial Holy Bible, an artificial intelligence-generated book that rewrites the biblical story.