The history of Portugal is long and uneven. Understanding today's Portugal, especially Lisbon, demands a look back at least to the recovery from the Great Earthquake and the short-lived periods of stability that followed. And while we enjoy the grand palácios and igrejas on our travels, another side of the cultural story can be told by the infrastructure, ephemera, and the minutiae left by 'the people'. In any case, the paços and catedrais are often re-creations, so, they are difficult to take as 'original'.
A recent series of museum visits allow us to reflect on an intimate, honest, 'on the street' view. After all, even though a museum can serve as a time machine, we do not arrive with noble peerage or papal blessings.
The first show is at the Museu de Lisboa (Campo Grande), in the Palácio Pimenta and looks at housing policy over the last century (jump). The second show is at the Museu do Trabalho in the town of Setúbal and involves an unusual collection of retail, farm, and fish canning memorabilia – and sounds (jump). The third show is in the Museu do Aljube, a prison building located near Lisbon's Sé, and tells the story of Portugal's political prisoners during the Salazar Dictatorship (jump).
So, we have a manor house, a canning factory, and a prison. Apologies for the long post, but we love small, weird museums.
Poltícas de Habitação em Lisboa, Palácio Pimenta, Pavilhão Preto (Mar 29th)
The show at the Museu de Lisboa is presented in a series of rooms divided by eras, and carries the subtitle, "Da Monarquia à Democracia". The show's intention of measuring Portugal's political changes by examining developments in housing is right in our wheelhouse: architecture, urbanism, and politics.
This requires an ability to assemble stories with maps, plans, and diagrams (as opposed to sculpture, paintings, and mosaics). Sounds good to us.
Monarquia Constitucional
Portugal's Constitutional Monarchy covers most of the nineteenth century, until the end of royal rule in 1910. During this time, several attempts are made to write a constitution or charter, but only passing attention is paid to the state of housing in Lisbon. As the show's literature states, the mão invisível do mercado guides planning and growth – in the spirit of 'let them eat cake' and 'trickle-down economics'.
Thus, the city fills with shoddy, often illegal pátios and vilas operárias – stuffing the city's courtyards and alleys with homes that lack running water and sanitation. At the start of the twentieth century, the government initiates a pátios survey:
[the patios that were visited] are clearly lacking the conditions of hygiene and health that are necessary for them to be inhabited, and only extreme poverty and a lack of resources leads their unfortunate residents to seek shelter in such hovels, without any frest air, without light or any possible cleanliness […] examples of all kinds are to be found in Lisbon.
Some of these homes are scattered slums, built in back yards; others are surrounded by tall houses. which further accentuate their wretchedness; there are also squalid old houses, with dark and gloomy cellars.
[…] They are generally irregularly shaped enclosures, where the various residents are piled together in small and badly built houses with limited capacity, damp because they back onto the land, or because they have underground cellars. In short, they have deplorable conditions of health, but, because of the shortage in Lisbon of acceptable houses for workers and the poor and needy classes, these filthy enclosures are not lacking in residents; and their landlords are visibly delighted with this profitable demand, since they are not required to make any convenient transformations, which they should really be legally obliged to do in order to correct this abuse of changing rents for such slums […] We should mention here the remarkable coincidence that the worst of these pateos are to be found precisely in those parishes with the highest rates of death caused by tuberculosis.– Survey of the pateos of Lisbon, 1902; Board for Sanitary Improvements of the Ministry of Public Works, Trade and Industry Lisbon, Imprensa Nacional, 1093
The first two maps illustrate this (above). The first maps dates from 1871, with alterações up to 1911 marked in red (showing the outlines of Liberdade at the center, Campo de Ourique in the west, and the blocks around Saldanha to the north). Survey maps of Travessa de Santa Quitéria and Rua de São Bento show their concentration of pátios just south of the Largo do Rato (number '4' on the larger map).
As proof of an attempt at planning during this era, the show offers the 'Vista Geral D'um Bairro Ecomonico', a drawing by Adães Bermudes from 1897 (above). It is an idealized, low-cost housing estate with a small church at the center (we know Bermudes from the Paços do Concelho de Sintra). In this context, the drawing exemplifies the gulf between the ideal and reality.
The city's core is shown in a map from 1900, with an overlay from 1903 which provides the specific outline of the urban boundary (resembles Batman's head, with Benfica as the nose; this shape repeats throughout the show). A zoom-in documents the development northward to Campo Grande, including the Praça de Touros at Campo Pequeno (last image above; note the enormous garden and Hippódromo on the campus of Universidade de Lisboa).
Primeira Republica
The First Republic exists only from 1910 to 1926, but some of the ideas for improved housing are finally executed, specifically at Arco de Cego (near our current home) – so, a real-world location. Another bairro social is produced for the Ministry of Labour, in 1919, by Adães Bermudes, Frederico Caetano de Carvalho and Edmundo Tavares:
… [a thousand] pleasant and comfortable hygienic houses […] in keeping with the rights and needs of those who work and produce.… the appropriate conditions shall be guaranteed for the enjoyment of good health, for physical development, moral and intellectual training and education, professional improvement and the support, rest and treatment of diseases.
The survey of pátios now includes photos – appalling images of people living in caves and shacks (with dates from the 30's and 40's).
As counterpoint, there are photos of the Bairro do Arco do Cego in the first years of its construction, circa 1920. In addition, there are drawings of buildings for the Administração Geral dos Bairros Socais, as well as a beautifully rendered communal kitchen and food store (restaurante cosinha armazens).
Portugal's earliest habitação social policy dates to 1918, under the leadership of President Sidónio Pais. Though Fernando Pessoa refers to Pais as the "President-King", these programs offer citizens and coops incentives to build casa económicas with subsidies from the state.
Following Portugal's disastrous involvement in WWI, the Battle of Lys (that we recall from the Mosteiro da Batalha), and Pais' assassination at the end of 1918, the housing efforts grind to a halt. The projects of Boa Hora in Ajuda and Arco do Cego do not open until the 1930's.
The First Republic collapses in 1926, as General Gomes da Costa marches his soldiers from Braga to Lisboa. Despite the attempts at liberal reforms, the instability of the nineteenth century continues to plague the Republic. Even in the final years, less than ten percent of the population are registered voters, and at the same time, Lisbon's population grows from just over four hundred thousand to nearly six hundred thousand (from 1911 to 1930; Oliveira Marques, A Very Short History of Portugal, 2018).
Ditadura Militar
A Military Dictatorship controls the government from 1926 to 1933. The city maps show consolidation and expansion in Avenidas Novas (7), Alcântra in the west (8), Arco de Cego in the north (6), and Penha de França in the east (13). A more detailed map indicates the spread of construções clandestinas near the edges of this expansion (marked in red above).
This chart (above) further details the density of the area as compared to the 1911 overlay, along Liberdade and the blocks near Campo Pequeno (the dark 'corner' at Batman's left cheek), as well as the area around the Jardim da Estrela and the Avenida Álvares Cabral, and then down to the Rio Tejo around the Terrapleno de Santos. Quite a few construções clandestinas line the western edge of these neighborhoods.
Still more photos are witness to the continuing developments of housing in the thirties and forties. But as the wall labels point out, these scattered projects, perhaps lacking commercial facilities and communal amenities, do not 'create neighborhoods'.
Estado Novo
The Second Republic, the Salazar Dictatorship, covers forty years, to 1974. The 'Planta da Cidade' designates immense parcels for development around the Parque Florestal de Monsanto and Belém (Batman's mouth and chin), and in the area around the current the Aeroporto and Olivais (the top of Batman's head and pointy left ear).
There are drawings and photographs that harken back to the size and detail of the projects from the First Republic, but soon the scale and character shift. The aerial image (above) demonstrates the construction of the Bairro de alvalaade (our previous home) in the 1950's, just east of the park at Campo Grande and south of the Parque da Saúde (Hospital Júlio de Matos). This consists of long, mid-rise blocks enclosing green courtyards, intended for 'middle-class' housing.
At about the same time, when construction of the Salazar Bridge (Ponte 25 de Abril) begins in 1962, the displaced population is relocated from the construction site to temporary housing in Chelas:
Rehousing of the population evicted from their homes due to the building of the Bridge over the River Tagus and respective accessesInstallation of the population in Bairro do Relógio, in Chelas, in houses popularly known by the name of "Sorefame"
The box-like Sorefame homes are laid in regular fashion, in large numbers, on narrow roads (there is little evidence that any of these structures still stand).
Several large-scale projects date from the 1960's, in Chelas, Olivais Norte, and Olivais Sul. These coincide with major upgrades to the Aeroporto just to the north. These are large blocks of various typologies, and irregularly arranged over the landscape, Unité-style (see wood model).
The show pamphlet says:
It can be said that the housing policies of the Estado Novo rarely deviated from the corporative rules established by the regime, so that the urban programmes were generally aimed at the middle classes and, within this same sector, at certain specific professional groups that continually benefited from special privileges, thus leaving a substantial part of the population unprotected.
Portugal Democrático
The Carnation Revolution (April 25th, 1974) signifies the start of the Third Republic; within a year (to the day), the country holds democratic elections and begins to draft a constitution.
The overlay map from 1899 re-appears, but with 1948's red lines. Their planning for the large housing blocks continues, but with some attempt to fit an architectural or urban context. Another map records the works of SAAL – smaller, targeted housing interventions:
After the revolution in 1974, the Serviço de Apoio Ambulatório Local (SAAL - Local Ambulatory Support Service) was created. Although this project was suspended just a few years later, it nonetheless left an indelible mark on the city's landscape and, still today, influences the way in which housing policies are formulated.
As an example, the model in the middle of the room shows a project in Graça (Pavilhão Desportivo, 2003).
The penultimate diagram provides an inventory of the social housing in Lisbon. The show pamphlet concludes:
In 1990, 14 years after the entry into force of the Constitution of the Portuguese Republic, it was estimated that, in the municipality of Lisbon, there were roughly 200 precarious housing areas - or, in more popular parlance, shanty towns or slums - with roughly 25,000 homes and 70,000 residents.Important social and territorial transformations began to be made at the turn of the 1980s into the 1990s: firstly, the Programa de Intervenção a Médio Prazo (PIMP - Medium-Term Intervention Programme) was set up in 1987, followed by the Programa Especial de Realojamento (PER - Special Rehousing Programme) in 1993. These programmes enabled the construction of roughly 20,000 new public homes, resulting in the rehousing of the population that were living in the old precarious housing areas. The PER, in particular, was the last great housing programme and, in terms of sheer quantity, the most important measure in the history of Portuguese housing policies.
The exhibition ends with one final proposal, with mid-rise, courtyard blocks set on a small rise – in scale and arrangement, much like the buildings that are in Arco de Cego and Alvalade. And one final map summarizes all the housing for the various eras and initiatives. Except for the gaps left by the Aeroporto and Monsanto, everything looks properly distributed.
Another exposição provides a different perspective on the city's growth. In a separate room in the Palácio Pimenta, Lisboa circa 1930 is preserved in miniature.
The Maqueta de Lisboa the handiwork of Lúis Pereira de Carvalho, a former fire comandante. Construction takes place in the two decades beginning about 1906 (it is believed to be based on a large 1:1000 scale map dating from 1904). The signature inside the display case is dated June 30th, 1930. There is also a small journal with entries that begin in 1915 and end in 1933.
The Museu offers an excellent catalog, which gives the address for Carvalho's family home as Rua Capítão Renato Baptista 79-81, between Avenida Almirante Reis (aka and the Campo dos Martíres do Pátria (how nice that roads no longer cut the Campo in quarters). Indeed, the book says the model begins as a 22cm square containing the Largo de Intendente (anchored by another building by Bermudes), which is very near this address. This grows to a 50cm square that comprises the northern tip of the completed model (first photo below).
When the model is substantially complete, it stars in a series of special presentations in May of 1926, first at the Paços do Concelho and then at the Museu Archeológical do Carmo. However, photos of the installation suggest that the Baixa and the Praça do Comércio are not yet added, and we can see that, even now, those blocks remain incomplete. The Igreja de Santo António stands alone on the unfinished eastern hill. Carvalho's notation says the model goes only as far south as Rua Santa Justa.
Esta "maquette" representa um trecho da Cidade de Lisboa, no ano de 1915 a 1930, na escala de 1:1000, numa superfície de 170.000 metros quadrados, limitada ao Nascente pelo Monte e Castelo de S. Jorge, ao Poente pelo Carmo, Praça dos Restauradores, Rua Eugénio dos Santos e Campo dos Mártires da Pátria, ao Sul pela Rua Santa Justa e Castelo de S. Jorge e ao Norte pela Rua Gomes Freire e Escola de Guerra.Nesta superfície existem 2.680 edificações, incluindo: 1 ESTAÇÃO DE CAMINHOS DE FERRO, 4 QUARTEIS, sendo 2 DE BOMBEIROS, 10 IGREJAS E CAPELAS, 4 HOSPITAIS, 10 HOTEIS, 11 CASAS DE ESPECTÁCULOS e 1 MUSEU.Foi executada por LUIZ CAETANO DE CARVALHO, funcionário municipal com 50 anos de serviço, actualmente na situação de inhabilitado como 2º Comandante de Corpo de Bombeiros Municipais de Lisboa.– Lisboa, 30 de Junho de 1930; Luiz Caetano Pereira de Carvalho
Carvalho's work freezes the city in time. From the 'Habitação' exhibit, we know we're right at the end of the Primeira Republica. The Castelo de São Jorge, for example, is still a military barracks; a substantial, multi-story building tops the the walls of today's miradouro. The Praça de Figuera is a covered market, not an open square. And, interestingly, the end of the train shed at Estação Ferroviária do Rossio is open, and we may peer inside.
The meticulousness and accuracy are fantastic, especially at the Praça dos Restauradores. Set at the edge of the model (see above), and cut on a diagonal, we can get down to eye level, and like Mr Rogers, make believe we are in the old city.
Museu do Trabalho Michel Giacometti, Sétubal (Jun 20th)
Months later, we still envision walking into a Portugal frozen in the past, and fulfill this fancy on a tour of the Museu do Trabalho (labor museum). The Museu is the result of three distinct collections joining forces to form something truly unique and compelling.
We begin with Michel Giacometti, a French ethnomusicologist. After the Carnation Revolution, he organizes a project, under the auspices of the Serviço Cívico Estudantil (a kind of national service, reminiscent of the Peace Corps or City Year). Giacometti sends students into the countryside to record the workers and gather materials – this includes work songs and interviews (so the audio tour is amazing).
With these recordings and objects, Giacometti begins to assemble the Museu do Trabalho, which finds a home after Giacometti's passing, in the old Perienes fish canning factory in 1991. The Museu incorporates the factory floor into the collection and adds another layer to this tale of labor: the farmers who grow the produce, the fishers who harvest the sardines, and the factory hands who prepare and can the fish.
Finally, the Museu's trio is completed in 2002, with Mercearia Liberdade. This is a salvaged retail interior from a construction project on the Avenida da Liberdade in Lisbon (perhaps to make room for Gucci or Burberry). The rest of our journey begins here.
Mercearia Liberdade
The grocery store interior dates from the late nineteenth or early twentieth century and is the legacy of Mr José Maria and Dona Júlia. The Mercearia preserves the retail shop, as well as the office and warehouse, The presentation includes marble counters, old grocery products, and tools – such as the old cash registers, meat slicer, and scale. The curatorial staff reports:
For those who lived the grocery stores it is to go back to some stages of their life because they will find the cod knife, the 'pirolito', the measures for the different products that were sold. For the youngest we seek to create a connection through the activities of the educational service. So that they realize that it was not always to get to the supermarket and take the products off the shelf. They had to be weighed and packed at the time. It is important that they understand this story.– José Luís Catalão, Diretor do Museu
Thankfully, the bacalhau hanging on the side of the shelves is not real (or at least it doesn't smell). As the tourist trade takes over Liberdade, the store windows fill with high-end local products, and samples are on display. The Mercearia is another time capsule; perhaps, we shrink-ray into the 'Cidade Miniature' and stroll into this grocery near Restauradores.This is the familiar part of the story, we know about shopping.
The rest of the Museu poses the question: how did all the produce and fancy tinned fish get on the shelves? Just outside the storefront, a hooded coat made of plant fibers draped over a dark mannequin point the way. Like the ghost of 'Portugal past', he is an apparition with an answer. The cloak resembles the type of costume worn during Entrudo, but it is simply a type of handmade, cool-weather raingear worn by farmers.
We now take a deep dive into the world of farm life and food production at the end of the Dictatorship.
"Ao Encontro do Povo" (Mundo Rural)
more videos at this YouTube playlist
The ethnographic collection is installed along a balcony that wraps above the canning floor. The audio pieces are as powerful as the objects, and truly bring the rural world to life. The tracks include singing as well as drumming and other ambient sounds. There are stations for each stage of the task: Preparar a terra (prepare the earth), Semear (sow), Ceifar e debulhar (reap and thresh), and Carregar e transportar (carry and transport).
Along the far wall are small areas with domestic themes, such as spinning and weaving, housework, and childcare. All the articles appear to be personal and handmade; so, the quality of the raw material is low, but the level of craft is stunningly high.
At the end of the balcony is a stair that descends to the factory floor; along the wall is a line of numbered, rectangular stone basins.
Indústria Conserveira
A column of printing plates used to make labels for the cans begins the blue-lined path, with descriptions of the history of the building. The first aisle describes the industrial universe, including the production of tin, salt, olive oil, and other components that go into the canning process.
The images on the presentation boards relate the crowded nature of the production floor; most of them date from the 1940's and 50's. Still in situ are the ovens and the water tanks, as well as the large round sink for rinsing the fish. The work benches appear to be the same as those used in the day, too.
A few of the canning machines stand on the other side of the prep-area, near the printing equipment. It seems just as much effort goes into the packaging; the Berthe brand labels are color-coded and beautiful. The young lady (Berthe?) on each can is shown in various color ways, with illustrations of the flavorings used in each variation of the product. These examples are for French export.
Like another wrinkle in time, in the middle of the floor, the maqueta of the factory explains the production. However, the backdrop to all this is the 'Mulheres da Fábrica', with the testimony of the women who worked the line. Their words defy their smiles:
"One day I said to the master: give us ten more pennies per hour, only ten more, and he said, - What? I would rather die. Can you believe he died the next day, miss? It was God who punished him."– Adelaide Branco (former gaffer of the canning industry), Center of Memories"I, from my eldest son, finished off the fish at 3 a.m., and at 4 a.m. I was in the hospital. I only had the time to go home and get the couch (before there were no bags) with the clothes for the baby already arranged."– Maria da Conceição (workwoman), Center of Memories"She liked to present herself well beautiful and smelling good, she had vanity in what she did, she liked to say that she worked in the factory."– Ema Pernes Ventura - about her mother (workwoman), Center of Memories
The nostalgia surrounding Portuguese conservas fades with these quotes. This is hard work, and the women at the heart of this industry deserve our admiration. Canning may not be crueler or kinder than any other business, but the Museu is honest about the conditions.
On the way out, there is a room dedicated to the Carpintaria. Here we see the tools and materials applied to the creation and maintenance of the factory equipment.
Outside, the sun is shining through the Porta do Sol. There is a kind of Vasari Corridor connecting the old Armazéns Papéis do Sado (paper warehouse). Through the Porta, Tardis-like, the cobbled travessa drops toward the Rio Sado, and below a web of cables and laundry the universe opens. The white apartment towers of Sétubal and the dark peaks of Arrábida loom above the old town.
Museu do Aljube (Jun 23rd)
We arrange a guided visit of the old 'political prison', the Aljube. The history of the building traces to the age of the Moors (eighth to twelfth centuries), as many of the buildings in the Alfama and around the Sé are survivors of the 1755 earthquake. Through the ages, Moorish rule, the Inquisition, and the Estado Novo, the Aljube remains a jail.
The Museu opens in 2015. Next year is the fiftieth anniversary of the Carnation Revolution. At the ticket counter, a wall of inmate 'mug shots' stare us down. Another, scarier time portal, this is the entrance to a truly dark reality.
Our docent, Ana, greets us, takes us up to the next level (follow along here), and begins the narrative. The first room is titled 'Memória de um Passado Presente'. There is a film montage replaying the rise of fascism in the 1930's: Italy, Germany, Spain, and Portugal. On the opposite wall, a series of statistics measures the impact of this disastrous era – shocking rates of income, illiteracy, and infant mortality.
The next room, 'Portugal 1890-1976', provides evidence for the data with censored news clips, contextual factoids, and little timelines for each decade or two. A series of larger photographic views are backlit near the floor, with jarring imagery: a packed rally in Martim Moniz in 1908, servicemen interacting with women in 1917 (embarking for WWI), and children interacting with soldiers in 1974 (April 25th).
All this culminates with an enlarged photo at the turn of the narrow exit corridor. The chilling salutes of the young people mark the anniversary of the Restoration in the Coliseu dos Recreios in Lisbon, December of 1939. Nearby, a screen plays Salazar's 'Certezas Indiscutíveis' speech (Braga, 1936) proclaiming that "God, homeland, and family" cannot be questioned:
Não discutimos Deus e a virtude; não discutimos a Pátria e a sua história; não discutimos a autoridade e o seu prestígio; não discutimos a família e a sua moral; não discutimos a glória do trabalho e o seu dever.[We do not discuss God and virtue; we do not discuss the Homeland and its history; we do not discuss authority and its prestige; we do not discuss the family and its morals; we do not discuss the glory of work and its duty.]
With the dictatorship entrenched, the underground begins its work. A case full of fake IDs and a wall of underground newsletters (O "Avante!" Tribuna de Combate do Povo Portugues) are examples of the power of 'Tipografia Clandestina' and 'Imprensa Clandestina'. There is a full-scale maqueta of a meeting, with Segal-esque plaster figures whispering, playing lookout, and running the press. This room is simply titled, 'Clandestinidade'.
The final room on this level is dressed as a document storage warehouse, and discusses the work of PIDE, the political police. The consequences are depicted in the last panel, the story of communist leader Militão Bessa Ribeiro.
Ana explains that Ribeiro's life includes over a decade of detention, including time in Tarrafal on Cape Verde. His final imprisonment lasts less than a year. The photos of his arrest in March of 1949, and his death in January 1950, are proof of the cruelty and intentionality of PIDE. After starvation and torture, Ribeiro falls into a coma but is never given medical assistance.
The next floor is all about the 'Resistência' and gives us a taste of life in Aljube. As plaster figures haunt the cells, we hear from the inmates, in their quotes, crafts, and mug shots:
Well, from there we went to another house, and there I had to stand like a statue. After two days of standing up I had to take my shoes off. After four days, I had to take my socks off. And at the end of six days I had to take my underpants off, which before were trousers, like those that football players wear, that type, all swollen. After … about the seventh day, I would fall, get back up, fall and get up again.– João Camilo, in Memórias da Resistência Rural no Sul, Couço (1958-1962) (1998), p. 266Beatings, punches, kicks, pulling your ears, your nose, hair, being shoved against the wall, beatings with a long belt … and sleep deprivation.– José Pedro Soares, in No Limite da Dor - A Tortura nas Prisões da PIDE (2014), p. 207The first blows I took were like that. It was her turn, and then him again. He beat me for an hour. An hour beating me!– Maria da Conceição Figueiredo, in Memórias da Resistência Rural no Sul, Couço (1958-1962) (1998), p. 263
Because after that she used to do something: she would grab me (me weighing forty kilos), she would grab my hair here, and make me walk like this, around in circles, grabbing me by the hair, from one side and the other. When she let go 1 would almost fall over, but then, I would reach into my coat pocket, take out a comb, and comb my hair.– Maria Custódia Chibante, in Memórias da Resistência Rural no Sul, Couco (1958-1962) (1998), p. 272I felt that my brain was like seawater coming to the shore, and then the wave leaves again. My brain was like that: it came and went. I even compared with the waves coming to the sand, and run back. So it was me. Then I ended up not being able to, in six days, keep track of everything.– Maria Galveias, in Memórias da Resistência Rural no Sul, Couço (1958-1962) (1998), p. 276
The timeline continues on the next floor. The Colonial Wars presage the beginning of the Dictatorship's end, much as WWI heralds the end of the First Republic. There are panels describing the efforts of colonial independence in each country.
'Os que Ficaram pelo Caminho' (those who fell by the wayside) memorializes the victims of PIDE (click 'LOAD MORE' for all 57 entries). The final four victims fall on April 25th, 1974; they die outside PIDE headquarters on Rua António Maria Cardoso – all of them heartbreakingly young:
• Fernando C. Gesteira (18)
• José J. Barneto (38)
• Fernando Barreiros dos Reis (23)
• José Guilherme R. Arruda (20)
The tour concludes in a room dedicated to the Carnation Revolution, 'Liberdade', and a wall enveloped in red petals. The images on the walls connect to locations in a map on the floor.
Ana tells us that these demonstrators are demanding Marcelo Caetano's surrender; he is holed up in the Guarda Nacional Republicana next to the Convento do Carmo. Press images of the day show students climbing the Carmo walls. As recent arrivals, we don't realize, until Ana's explanation, that the protesters are trying to get into the building next door.
The Museu uses every possible surface to carry the message; even the stairwell is covered in poetry:
Falta-lhe a liberdade.Só essa dor lhe dóiMas só por ela há-deNão ser o que foi.[He lacks freedom.This is the only pain that hurts.But just because of thatIt will no longer be what it was.]– Miguel Torga, from the poem "Canção"; Aljube Prison, 30 December 1939
The Museu's special exhibit is a photo essay by Ana Hatherly (PhD from Cal Berkeley), and is entitled, 'The Artist Went Out to the Street'. Her work is familiar from shows at the Gulbenkian and from the permanent collection at Serralves.
A series of impromptu photos taken on April 25th, 1974, captures the energy of the crowd and the joy on the faces. Hatherly's street photos echo and mirror the images from the start of the tour – of women and children with soldiers. Rather than fear, there is jubilant release; the photographs leave us in the squares and on the sidewalks to join the celebration. The final images form a kind of coda to a century-long evolution:
Um pouco por todo o país, ainda pouco se sabia do que se passava na capital e do desenlace do golpe militar. Porém, em Lisboa, as pessoas saíam à rua, celebravam, saudavam os militares, invadiam a sede da Censura e do jornal Época, amigos abraçavam-se num misto de surpresa e alegria, gritavam-se palavras de ordem, rebentava o anseio e clamor pelo fim da guerra colonial, pela conquista da liberdade.[A little throughout the country, little was known about what was going on in the capital and the outcome of the military coup. However, in Lisbon, people went out on the street, celebrated, greeted the military, invaded the headquarters of Censura and the newspaper Época, friends embraced each other in a mixture of surprise and joy, shouted slogans, burst the longing and clamor for the end of the colonial war, for the conquest of freedom.]– Rita Rato, Directora do Museu do Aljube Resistência e Liberdade
After the Aljube, we walk down to Praça do Comércio and grab the Metro. We arrive home and learn about the Wagner rebellion in Russia. It reminds us of our anxiety and concern during our trip to Tomar last winter, when Russia first invaded Ukraine, as well as our gratitude for our refuge in Portugal.
So much of what Russia's army is destroying, what Ukraine is fighting to recover, is everything that we and the Portuguese now enjoy. It is cultivated and earned through frightful effort: housing, farming and the food industry, the value of labor and quality of life, and the capacity for fairness and autonomy.
Justice comes with an unimaginable cost. The extent of human needs and human rights is both global and personal. Museums may document and honor these moments, methods, and struggles, but it is up to us not to forget or take them for granted – food for thought when watching a missile strike on an apartment block or eating a can of sardines.
