João Maria Gusmão
All Them Swines
Jan 17th – Mar 14th, 2025
School of Arts Exhibition Hall, Porto
In this exhibition, a work by João Maria Gusmão, All Them Swines, stands out, inspired by another: the animated version of the masterpiece by the English writer George Orwell, a work that comments on the prevalence of porcine authority within the human realm. Unaware of the writer's deeper intentions, it would seem that this is a metaphor. Orwell insinuates that Stalin was an evil and ugly pig and that individuals who adhered to the Marxist revolutionary movement in the land of the Czars are beasts.
We couldn’t disagree more. Stalin, like other pigs of the twentieth century, was not only evil but also a prince of darkness. As for being ugly, that depends. I like mustaches.
Meanwhile, more than seventy years have passed since this grã opus. The fall of the Berlin Wall ended the KGB but did not destroy the intelligence agencies of other empires. In light of today, Orwell's work continues to leave the subtle impression that we live on a farming estate, at the mercy of a historical destiny controlled by perverse, deeply extractivist designs.
Reading this prose, one feels tones of legitimate commiseration for those who are unduly exploited, and solemn solidarity with the uprising against the overeager overseers of profit, who do everything to make the chickens lay more eggs, the cows give more milk, and to ensure there’s more bacon, pork chops, and spare ribs in the corpses of the good pigs.
It even seems that two of the great hallmarks of modern times – the dignity of work and the right to leisure – apparently irreconcilable, crystallize in the image of the glee of the masters of it all. The farm of an evil, ugly, and slave-driving pig produces much so that he can eternally enjoy his holidays.
The master lord of the animal farm is wicked: first, he domesticated the dog, then subjugated the sheep. He taught the former to bark and bite, and the latter to follow orders.
Returning to the exhibition, the film, originally, and informed by this context, is for children. Fun and educational, it was likely commissioned by the Central Intelligence Agency of the United States of America and widely distributed during the Cold War to strengthen the idea that the peoples under the corrupt influence of the Soviet Union could rise up against their oppressor.
Ladies and gentlemen! The cartoon is propaganda!
What Gusmão does is chop-suey with this film, dividing it into three parts and projecting these fragments over one another to reveal a non-diegetic subtext upstream of the work. It becomes evident that, without understanding the thread of the story, one observes all kinds of assaults and atrocities against the peace and bucolic sanctity of rural life.
The dog sinks its teeth into the cat and the man; the man beats the horse and fires mortars; the donkey harasses the pig and kicks the crowd; there’s dynamite and explosions, blood gushes, feathers fly, hands and arms too; there are kicks and punches. The money from profit and exploitation is counted, and while some work, others distribute slaps, which is also a fine craft.
The pig Stalin is the devil, but all the other creatures – men, pigs, dogs, ducks, and birds, etc. – are demons and little devils from hell. Brutality and injustice, now and always, past, present, and future, as far as the eye can see.
When history is perceived simultaneously, it seems it has never been any other way. Without propaganda, it’s merely a generic observation about the general history of violence.
Thus spoke João Maria Gusmão, December 2024
