Like all the immigrants, we don’t have to think about vacation destinations. We come to Finland every summer, although this time it’s not like other years. My mother phoned me when we were packing that my 98-year-old grandfather had died. Just in time to put n the suit case a black suite and not only Hawaiian shirts. And just not in time for my grandfather to meet my son who was born in April.

My wife says that I'm a countryside hick because I get exited of the luxury. I spent my Finnair miles to a business class upgrade for all the family. I wanted that my son air travels for the first time in style and comfort. I don't care that much about the complimentary champagne but the smooth treatment that the wealthy and the privileged receive. In the economy class my kids would have been labeled misbehaving but in the front side of the magic curtain they were called vigorous.

When I was a kid in the social democratic Finland in the 80's, there were two TV channels. They broadcasted from 5pm (when people stopped working) until 11pm (when people were supposed to go to bed) and 8.30pm was the prime time for the news that were aired on both of the channels simultaneously. I had heard that in America they had countless choices of TV channels. Bruce Springsteen sang a man came by to hook up my cable TV / We settled in for the night my baby and me / We switched ’round and ’round ’til half-past down / There was fifty-seven channels and nothin’ on. The number is famous for the Heinz slogan 57 varieties.

My wife got us (a free offer from our broadband provider for 12 month) yesterday 184 TV channels, a pay per view video on demand and a hard disc to record programs. I asked the technician who came to install the stuff that can I see the Finnish TV. I still prefer those two governmental channels that I watched when I was kid. He said no but that now I have Al Jazeera, Fox News, Russia Today, The Chinese CCTV in Spanish, MTV España, MTV Rocks, MTV Dance, MTV Hits, The Poker Channel, Art Channel, Discovery Turbo, Barca TV and Baby TV.

I don't have time for TV, though I know that you can learn a lot watching it. Warhol watched TV while he painted. I think that I'm not going to watch any of these innumerable channels but I like the feeling that I have them.

Roger de Piles was a French 17th century painter and spy. I like the surprising combination because they are precisely the professions that my daughter told me that she wants to have when she will be grownup.

De Piles was arrested in the Hague carrying a false passport and he was imprisoned for five years and spent the time writing about art. The most famous book he wrote is Cours de peinture par principes avec un balance de peintres where he has ranked artists giving them points in composition, drawing, color and expression. His top favorite was Raphael who got 17, 18, 12 and 18 points.

I love lists and tried to rank some of my favorites. I don't use de Piles' categories but aesthetics, content, attitude and expression.

Pablo Picasso 19-3-20-19
Andy Warhol 7-12-19-2
Yves Klein 17-8-13-13
Jean-Michel Basquiat 16-6-9-16
Martin Kippenberger 5-12-20-11
Ilya Kabakov 18-16-6-5
Paul McCarthy 9-13-17-20
Jeff Koons 4-12-16-2
Ai Weiwei 7-12-15-3
Yoshitomo Nara 20-13-11-14
Rirkrit Tiravanija 1-10-17-9
Damien Hirst 2-4-17-4
Santago Sierra 6-20-13-4
Thomas Hircshhorn 19-14-15-18
Bjarne Melgaard 16-3-14-10
Jonathan Meese 2-3-16-17
Judas Arrieta 17-9-13-12
Jani Leinonen 9-19-16-2
Misaki Kawai 15-7-12-12

Before moving to Spain, I considered football a vulgar opium for the global masses - but once here, I didn't want to live in my lonely ghetto of immigrant intellectuals and became madridista, supporter of Real Madrid.

It was more by chance than choice. If I had landed in Barcelona, I suppose I'd be now a fan of FC Barcelona, and if I had ended up marrying a girl born to a more liberal family, I'd prefer Atlético de Madrid, the team that is supported by the class-conscious proletariat. Real Madrid represents very different values to those that are mine - it's name is monarchic and it's tradition is fascist. Real Madrid plays in white and they are called los blancos, which sounds to me like the White Army. The radical Ultras Sur wave swastika flags at the Santiago Bernabéu Stadium.

In the turn of the millennium it wasn't actually Real Madrid but Raúl Madrid. Rául González Blanco (he's second surname means white!) was the most shining star of the  club. He had entered to the first team before turning 18 and was breaking all the records in the club and in the liga. Maybe his goals weren't the most beautiful and maybe he didn't have Maradona's talent but we loved him every Sunday for his perseverance and obstinacy. And for his goals. Lots of goals. There was no better sound than hearing the radio yell gol, gol, gol, goooooooooooooooooool del Madrid. Gooooooool de Raúl.

Now it's all over. I'm never going to listen to that song again. This week, Raúl left Madrid, and now he is wearing a blue shirt with Gazprom's logo. Seeing Raúl in the German team Schalke's kit makes me feel totally perplex, it's like seeing you wife with another man. But I think I still love him.

I'm writing a short but definite autobiography. In retrospective catalogs you find biografies of (dead) artist written by art historians. I'm not taking the risk that somebody who doesn't know what I pretended to be writes the story of my life and work - it would be untrue triumphal bullshit. It's better to do it by myself when I'm still alive. George Orwell stated that an autobiography is only to be trusted when it reveals something disgraceful. A man who gives a good account of himself is probably lying, since any life when viewed from the inside is simply a series of defeats. 

Here is an extract of my sketch for the year 2001:

Lives in Madrid and works first as assistant in a gallery and later in an exhibition installation company. Curates the show First in, First out, First in, First Serve exhibition in Cuenca, where he also participates as extra dancer in La Ribot’s piece. Travels by car from Madrid to Venice to the opening of the Biennale. Doesn’t have an invitation and jumps over the wall of Giardini. Is prepared with a pizza base and cream to pie Harald Szeemann, the curator of the Biennale. During the exhibition Ars 01 at Kiasma Museum of Contemporary Art works as interpreter of Santiago Sierra.

The September 11 attacks take place in New York and Washington. The United States invades Afganistan. The G8 summit takes place in Genoa and the antiglobalist protest results with one death and thousand of injuries. Slobodan Milošević is arrested. Wikipedia is launched. Takashi Murakami founds Kaikai Kiki. Manu Chao releases Próxima Estación: Esperanza. Jean-Pierre Jeunet premieres Amélie.