Icons
Icon of the month: Olympic mascots
Sarah Dean
![Icon.jpg]()
The first official Olympic mascot was Waldi, a multi-coloured
Dachshund created for the 1972 Munich Games by graphic artist Otl
Aicher. Waldi proved so popular in the run up to the Games that
organisers decided to redesign the route of the marathon to
resemble his shape.
While rerouting an event isn’t a requirement, the International
Olympic Committee’s official guidelines for mascots are incredibly
complex. A mascot should ‘be the concrete form to the Olympic
spirit of participation, solidarity and fair play; spread the
Olympic values of excellence, respect and friendship; promote the
history and culture of the host city; and give the event a festive
atmosphere.’ Unsurpris-ingly, given the complex brief, a majority
of the 21 mascots created for summer and winter games since 1972
have been regarded as design disasters. As anyone who has ever
tried to explain the Trinity or Eucharistic Transubstantiation will
know, explaining several ideas clearly through one symbol is
tough.
Many mascots have failed to catch on because they are just too
complicated. For example Izzy was the first computer-generated
mascot, created for Atlanta 96. He/she/it was a ‘Whatisit’, a shape
shifter ‘eager to make friends with people around the world.’ It
seems people didn’t want to make friends with an annoying blue
sperm wearing sneakers.
On several occasions artists trying to incorporate indigenous
culture into their designs have often been accused of disrespect
and outright racism. The artist who designed the mascots for the
Beijing Olympics even claimed the job was cursed. His Feng
Shui-inspired characters are said to have caused natural disasters
in run up to the games and two heart attacks for the artist
himself.
Other designers have played safe, stripping their designs right
back, thereby creating rather boring mascots. For example Amik the
Beaver for Montreal 1976 had none of the cuteness you might expect
from Canada’s national animal – he was an expressionist black blob
that looked like you had a stain on your t-shirt. Haakon and
Kristen at Lillehammer 1994 were just two local children wandering
around in traditional Viking dress. And even Disney couldn’t get it
right when they designed Sam the Eagle for the Los Angeles games in
1984. Remember him? No. He was just a bird in a hat.
The most popular Olympic mascot ever is widely regarded to be
Barcelona 1992’s Cobi the Dog. Critics initially derided his
cubist-inspired, flat-faced design, but kids and tourists couldn’t
get enough of him and toys and merchandise flew off shelves. He
even had his own TV series, which ran long after the games had
finished.
The Vancouver 2010 games had a whole team of cute creations led
by Quatchi the Sasquatch. One, a marmot called Mukmuk was
designated by the designers as a sidekick and so didn’t feature on
merchandise. Mukmuk fans started a campaign for him to be
awarded full mascot status. Organisers eventually bowed to
pressure and issued official Mukmuk toys. (Proof that where there’s
Mukmuk, there’s brass.)
Ultimately mascots are a way to make money. Get your mascot
right and you can bring in more than 25% of the cost of the Games
in merchandising revenue. When the London 2012 mascots Wenlock and
Mandeville were unveiled, games chief Lord Coe said ‘We created our
mascots for children. By linking young people to the values of
sport [they] will help inspire kids to strive to be the best they
can be’. All very noble, Seb, but it’s not entirely true is it?
The mascots need to appeal to kids, so they pester their mum
into buying them the lunchbox, the t-shirt and the limited edition
Sheffield steel cutlery set
The critical consensus is that for London 2012 the mascots are
once again over-designed. The fact that each mascot has one eye,
which is also a camera, has an uncomfortable resonance with CCTV,
particularly for a games that began it’s planning process amid the
7/7 attacks. At their unveiling that Lord Coe said the
mascots would set the tone for London 2012. Seemingly, that tone is
Orwellian.
Sarah Dean
