Curatorial Strategies to Resist Gender Asymmetries in Portugal: Two Women-Only Landmark Exhibitions

Abstract

This article adopts a comparative approach to two women-only landmark exhibitions in Portugal—Portuguese Women Artists (1977) and All I Want. Portuguese Women Artists from 1900 to 2020 (2021–2022)—to explore how curatorial strategies can function as tools of resistance to gender asymmetries in the art field. Spanning 45 years, these initiatives reflect distinct historical, institutional, and cultural contexts: the former emerged in a post-revolutionary country as a bold, politically charged intervention, foregrounding female creativity within an established institution and promoting international visibility, while the latter offered a thematically structured survey that, albeit belatedly, engaged with more complex and globally informed debates. Both exhibitions converge in celebrating Portuguese women’s creative production, exposing persistent structural challenges and adopting critical yet defensive curatorial frameworks that reveal an ambivalent feminist gesture and certain limitations. By analysing these case studies, this research further emphasises the ongoing need for initiatives that foster discussion, awareness, visibility, and equity.

1. Introduction

In an interview with journalist Vanessa Rato (2005), curator Isabel Carlos emphasised that, among the major figures of 20th century Portuguese art, the most internationally renowned are women. Building on this observation, researcher Giulia Lamoni (2023, p. 504) suggests that examples such as Paula Rego, known for her narrative figurative paintings often addressing social and political themes; Maria Helena Vieira da Silva, a leading postwar abstract painter; and Lourdes Castro, recognised for her shadow and silhouette works—alongside the 17th century painter Josefa de Ayala Figueira, best known as Josefa de Óbidos, and the contemporary textile artist Joana Vasconcelos—“may have functioned, from a symbolic point of view, as a trompe l’oeil representation of women’s participation in the arts”, thus exemplifying the so-called “Portuguese Paradox”1. However, as museum director and professor Maura Reilly (2015) has argued: “The existence of a few superstars or token achievers—like Marina Abramovic, Tracey Emin, and Cindy Sherman—does not mean that women artists have achieved equality. Far from it”.

In recent years, the careers and works of these artists have become increasingly visible—benefiting from the growing attention of curators and institutions both in Portugal and internationally—yet persistent systemic inequities continue to shape the art world. A wide range of statistical evidence (Maura Reilly 2015) confirms the entrenchment of gender asymmetries across centuries, geographies and throughout multiple sectors of the art system. These disparities are not confined to historical narratives; they extend to commercial recognition, scholarship and funding allocation, gallery representation, inclusion in public and private collections, participation in art fairs and exhibitions, access to leadership positions, and media visibility.

Simultaneously, the field of curating has undergone a profound transformation. No longer limited to an organisational task, it has evolved into a critical and discursive practice (O’Neill 2007). Especially since the 1990s, exhibitions have increasingly been conceived not merely as neutral sites of display but as active mediums of knowledge production—spaces where curators act as authors with political, social, and activist potential (O’Neill 2007). Within this framework, critical and thought-provoking curatorial discourse plays a central role in fostering awareness and in promoting a more plural, equitable and inclusive recognition of women’s artistic contributions.

Accordingly, the following discussion focuses on two landmark women-only exhibitions that took place in Portugal (Lisbon) and France (Tours/Paris), separated by 45 years, yet united by a common premise—to foreground the visibility and recognition of Portuguese women artists. These are Portuguese Women Artists [Artistas Portuguesas]2 presented in 1977 at the National Society of Fine Arts (SNBA) and the FCG/Portuguese Cultural Centre (CCP); and All I Want. Portuguese Women Artists from 1900 to 2020 [Tudo O Que Eu Quero. Artistas Portuguesas de 1900 a 2020] shown in 2021 at the Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation (FCG) and in 2022 at the Olivier Debré Centre for Contemporary Creation (CCC OD).

2. Historical and Cultural Context

Internationally, discussions on the systemic exclusion of women in the arts had become central throughout the early 1970s, propelled by artists, critics, and theorists such as Linda Nochlin, Judy Chicago, and Lucy Lippard. When these debates reached Portugal—belatedly and unevenly—they met an unprepared ecosystem. For a long time, the country resisted the challenges posed by feminist approaches within this wider context (Filipa Lowndes Vicente 2012b, p. 210). These theories lacked the space to contest established forms of knowledge due to “the change of regime, the politicisation of the civil society, the redefining of freedoms and rights, and the consolidation of democracy, as well as the reconstruction of the education system itself” (Filipa Lowndes Vicente 2012b, p. 212). In Portugal, feminism was still focused on securing basic legal equality between women and men (Filipa Lowndes Vicente 2012b, p. 212).

The 1970s marked a period of profound political, social and cultural transformations in the country, coinciding with the final years of dictatorship and, after 1974, the consolidation of a democratic society. The Estado Novo regime, or “the longest-lasting modern authoritarian experience in Western Europe” (Rosas 1994, p. 10), was headed by António de Oliveira Salazar and later by Marcello Caetano. Over almost five decades, Portugal had a rigid system of cultural governance designed to promote national identity, while limiting access to alternative intellectual and artistic currents.

In 1928, following the election of General Óscar Carmona as President of the Republic, Salazar was appointed Minister of Finance, having previously held the position briefly in 1926 (Ramos et al. 2021, p. 628). His success and ascent are closely tied to the restoration of financial stability and the coordination of social and economic interests in response to the global crisis of 1929–1931 (Ramos et al. 2021, p. 631). D. Manuel II, the last king of Portugal, died childless in London in 1932 (Ramos et al. 2021, p. 633). That same year, the government published a draft Constitution prepared by António de Oliveira Salazar and his collaborators (Ramos et al. 2021, p. 632). About two months later, he assumed office as Head of Government, becoming the sole authority in governance and accountable only to Óscar Carmona (Ramos et al. 2021, pp. 633–34). Meanwhile, Adolf Hitler rose to power in Germany between 1932 and 1933. In 1936, the Spanish Civil War broke out, and in 1939, the Second World War began, during which Portugal maintained a stance of neutrality.

The cultural policy of the “Estado Novo” [“New Estate”] was implemented by the National Secretariat for Propaganda (SPN), which was renamed the National Secretariat for Information (SNI) in 1945, and later the State Secretariat for Information and Tourism (Jürgens 2016, pp. 108–9). Created in 1933 under the direction of António Ferro—a journalist and modernist writer deeply committed to constructing a new image of Portugal as modern, orderly, and rooted in tradition—the institution became the central instrument of the regime’s cultural propaganda and aesthetic policy, promoting artistic production aligned with the ideals of the Estado Novo, forming part of a broader programme known as the “Política do Espírito” [“Policy of the Spirit”] (Jürgens 2016, pp. 108–9). Intending to develop a distinctly “national art”, the regime relied on prizes, exhibitions, commissions and subsidies to persuade artists to adopt a style that reinforced the desired ideological narrative (Ramos et al. 2021, p. 654). According to art historian Raquel Henriques da Silva (2023, p. 356), the SPN/SNI “played a pivotal role in shaping the course of the national art scene”. The researcher notes that the institution “was founded with a dual and contradictory purpose: essentially, its goals were political, seeking to create a space for the affirmation and visibility of Salazar’s Estado Novo through a wide range of cultural programmes—from the promotion of modern art exhibitions to the organisation of fairs and international shows; from the publication of high-quality tourism materials to the decoration of shops and window displays; and, above all, through the aesthetic enrichment of the monumental public works, the government sought to carry out” (Raquel Henriques da Silva 2023, p. 356). At the same time, she recognises that “Ferro also aimed to support and stimulate modernism and its artists, promoting modern aesthetic values over the nineteenth-century preferences that continued to dominate the market, particularly through the exhibitions held at the SNBA” (Raquel Henriques da Silva 2023, p. 357). Alongside the SNBA, the state-run Salons (1935–1951) envisioned by António Ferro represented almost the only organised activity in the field of visual arts in Portugal before the establishment of the FCG (Márcia Oliveira 2013, pp. 102–3), a moment that marked a turning point in the development of private patronage of artistic production.

Between then and the late 1960s, Portugal witnessed the unfolding of the Young Artists’ Salons [Salões dos Novíssimos], held from 1959 to 1964 and the National Art Salons [Salões Nacionais de Arte] which ran from 1966 to 1969, alongside the emergence of a flourishing network of commercial galleries, such as Alvarez (1954), Diário de Notícias (1957), Divulgação (1958), 111 (1964), Buchholz (1965), Quadrante (1966), and São Mamede (1968), all of them located in Lisbon and Porto (Isabel Nogueira 2015, pp. 23, 29). The emergence of these spaces, open to the avant-garde and willing to give visibility to new artists, stands in stark contrast to the promotion, by official bodies, of an art grounded in vernacular and academic traditions (Maria Isabel Roque 2019, p. 241).

In 1968, António de Oliveira Salazar suffered a fall that caused him a cerebral haematoma. His successor, announced shortly thereafter, would turn the following year’s legislative elections into a referendum on his own political agenda (Ramos et al. 2021, p. 697). The first would die two years later, unaware that he was no longer Head of Government (Ramos et al. 2021, p. 696). The final years of the Estado Novo regime gave tentative attention to women’s issues. In the late 1960s, under Marcello Caetano, an initial wave of political modernisation and liberalisation seemed to take shape. A woman—Maria Teresa Lobo—entered the Government for the first time, and the Commission for the Status of Women began operating, chaired by Maria de Lurdes Pintassilgo (Ramos et al. 2021, p. 700), who would, years later, become Portugal’s first—and, to this day, only—female Prime Minister. Among the progressive sectors, this generated the expectation of genuine reform—one that ultimately never came. The discontent grew as the Colonial War dragged on. On 25 April 1974, a military coup took place, the President of the Council of Ministers surrendered, and the dictatorship was finally overthrown. The years that followed were marked by considerable unrest.

By the time the Estado Novo collapsed, the Portuguese art world was deeply marked by decades of centralised control, isolation from international movements, and entrenched gender inequalities. The tension between institutions inherited from the authoritarian regime and a growing desire for aesthetic renewal persisted for several years, and some of these constraints still endure today. With the April Revolution in 1974, many artists who had emigrated for political reasons returned to Portugal—a shift that strengthened dialogue with the international scene and allowed them access to new aesthetic languages. However, cultural policy remained a low priority for successive governments, as evidenced by the poorly structured and improvised National Consultative Commission for the Visual Arts, organised within the Ministry of Social Communication until 1977 (Isabel Nogueira 2015, pp. 36, 39). Despite this, the period of the 1970s was notable for the activities of the Portuguese Section of the International Association of Art Critics, the Árvore Artistic Cooperative, the Coimbra Circle of Fine Arts, and Gravura, the Portuguese Printmakers’ Cooperative Society. The 1970s were also marked by the establishment of Ar.Co, an independent centre for arts and visual communication, initially conceived as an alternative to the Lisbon School of Fine Arts; and the rise in key art venues such as the Quadrum Gallery in 1973, Módulo in 1975, and the Centre for Contemporary Art (CAC) in 1976 (Isabel Nogueira 2015, pp. 39, 48, 53, 69–70).

In 1977, Portuguese Women Artists emerged in a democratic country undergoing a process of reorganisation. That same year, the Constitutional Government, led by Prime Minister Mário Soares, submitted Portugal’s application to the EEC, European Economic Community—a procedure that would only be concluded in 1985—and the exhibition Zero Alternative: Polemic Tendencies in Contemporary Portuguese Art [Alternativa Zero: Tendências Polémicas na Arte Portuguesa Contemporânea] opened at the National Gallery of Modern Art in Belém, Lisbon. Conceived by the multidisciplinary artist Ernesto de Sousa and organised by the Secretary of State for Culture (SEC), under the leadership of David Mourão-Ferreira, this seminal event marked a turning point in the history of Portuguese art exhibitions (Maria Isabel Roque 2019, p. 252). By bringing together a generation of artists engaged in experimental techniques and conceptual practices, it aimed to challenge the conventions that had shaped the artistic production of the preceding decades, positioning itself as both a manifesto with a provocative tone and a platform for renewal in the aftermath of the Carnation Revolution3. Two years later, after having remained closed for several years, the MNAC finally reopened its doors (Isabel Nogueira 2015, p. 49). During this period, it is also crucial to acknowledge the role of the Cerveira Biennial—launched in 1978 following the International Art Meetings held between 1974 and 1977—in the decentralisation and democratisation of culture. While the early editions featured established artists, the 1984–1986 events renewed the value of traditional visual arts and brought new protagonists to the fore (Brito 2000, pp. 18–20). This younger generation would later come together in the exhibition New New Ones [Novos Novos], held in 1984 at the SNBA (Brito 2000, p. 25).

At the beginning of the 1980s, the Portuguese art scene experienced a significant resurgence, evidenced by the opening of more than thirty galleries, most of them in Lisbon (Isabel Nogueira 2015, pp. 63–64, 66), and by the country’s debut at Kassel’s Documenta in 1982, with Julião Sarmento (Brito 2000, pp. 21–22). Within this revitalised context, Isabel Nogueira (2015, p. 207) draws attention to key exhibitions such as After Modernism [Depois do Modernismo], held at the SNBA in 19834; Coastal Attitudes [Atitudes Litorais], shown at the School of Arts and Humanities of the University of Lisbon in 1984; and, also in that year, The New Primitives: The Great Plastics [Os Novos Primitivos: Os Grandes Plásticos], at Árvore. Among these, Archipelago [Arquipélago], staged at the SNBA in 1985—and a year later, at Árvore—together with Continents: 5th Homeostetic Exhibition [Continentes: V Exposição Homeostética], organised by the same institution in 1986, “stand as the culmination of this feverish period for the venerable SNBA” as the withdrawal of state funding that same year ultimately diminished its cultural resonance and weakened its meaningful presence within the younger artistic milieu (Brito 2000, pp. 25–26).

In 1989—the year the Berlin Wall fell—the Serralves Foundation was established in Porto, with its museum opening a decade later with the exhibition Circa 1968 (Silva 2015, p. 62). In 1993, the same institution hosted one of the most successful exhibitions of the period, bringing together for the first time a promising group of young artists: Images for the 1990s [Imagens para os Anos 90] (Silva 2015, p. 55). Also in 1993, Culturgest, the cultural arm of Caixa Geral de Depósitos—Portugal’s state-owned bank—was established (Jürgens 2016, p. 390), already holding an art collection that had been started ten years earlier. The following year, at the newly inaugurated Belém Cultural Centre, The Day After Tomorrow [Depois de Amanhã] opened, coinciding with Lisbon’s designation as European Capital of Culture. On this occasion, the MNAC reopened after an extensive renovation (Raquel Henriques da Silva 2023, p. 614). That same year, the Zé dos Bois (ZDB) Gallery opened, offering a regular programme and becoming an important associative space in consolidating and energising an alternative art circuit, as well as supporting emerging artistic production (Jürgens 2016, pp. 500–9).

Internationally, the final decade of the 20th century was shaped by a global crisis and by the new political and social landscape triggered by the Gulf War and the dissolution of the Soviet Union. The Museum of Contemporary Art of Barcelona (MACBA) opened its doors in 1995, followed by the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao two years later. In Belgium, the largest exhibition of Portuguese culture ever held abroad took place: Europália ‘91 Festival. A few years later, Lisbon hosted the Expo ‘98, a global event that attracted millions of visitors and transformed the eastern part of the city (Silva 2015, pp. 58–59). Equally significant are the openings of the Arpad Szenes/Vieira da Silva Foundation (FASVS) in 1995 and the Portuguese Centre of Photography in 1997 (Silva 2015, pp. 56–57). Amid this period, the expansion of the Lisbon Metro offered several artists the opportunity to create site-specific interventions across its stations (Silva 2015, p. 59).

The dawn of the 2000s was marked by a succession of events that seismically reshaped the world order: the 11 September attack (2001) and the subsequent invasions of Afghanistan (2001) and Iraq (2003) created a climate of global instability, while the enlargement of the European Union (2004) and the signing of the Kyoto Protocol (2005) sought to establish new political and ecological geographies. At the same time, the proliferation of the internet and the rise in platforms such as Wikipedia (2001), Facebook (2004), and YouTube (2005) ushered in a new regime for knowledge circulation. In 2008, an economic crisis erupted with far-reaching consequences for societies, markets and cultural institutions worldwide. Across Portugal, it triggered a severe recession, fiscal austerity measures, cuts to public investment, and rising unemployment, culminating in 2011 with the intervention of the International Monetary Fund (IMF), the European Central Bank (ECB), and the European Commission (EC).

In the artistic field, the turn of the century witnessed the proliferation of biennials and international fairs, the expansion of institutions such as the MoMA in New York (2004), and the deepening of critical debates around globalisation and post-colonialism. The Tate Modern (2000) launched in London, followed by the Louis Vuitton Foundation (2006) in Paris, the Berardo Collection Museum (2007) in Lisbon, and MAXXI (2009) in Rome. Also noteworthy is the pioneering transdisciplinary project First Story. Women Building/New Narratives for the 21st Century [Construir Feminino/Novas Narrativas Para o Século XXI], curated by the German Ute Meta Bauer at the Palace Gallery—Almeida Garrett Municipal Library, upon the invitation of Miguel von Hafe Pérez, within the framework of Porto 2001, European Capital of Culture. These developments marked a moment when some Portuguese women artists began to gain visibility in national and international contexts.

In 2005, over the course of roughly half a century of Portugal’s intermittent participation in the Venice Biennale, the official representation was, for the first time, a female duo (Costa 2020, pp. 27–28): Helena Almeida (artist) and Isabel Carlos (curator). The 51st edition, curated by another female duo—María de Corral and Rosa Martínez—marked a milestone, since from 2005 to 2019, the country had four female delegations against five male (Costa 2020, pp. 27–28). Joana Vasconcelos was likewise featured, presenting the installation The Bride [A Noiva], a monumental chandelier made from thousands of sanitary pads, as part of the exhibition Always a Little Further at the Arsenale. The artist would also be invited to represent Portugal in 2013, under the curatorship of Miguel Amado (Costa 2020, p. 28). The international visibility achieved represented a landmark moment for these artists, contributing to the renewed recognition of women in the Portuguese contemporary art scene. Notably, this momentum persisted despite the difficult economic and political repercussions of the 2008 crisis, with female artists continuing to gain international recognition.

The first two decades of the 21st century experienced profound social, political, and technological transformations. The Arab Springs (2010–2011) saw waves of protests sweep across North Africa and the Middle East, challenging entrenched political systems. In Europe, the crisis in Ukraine unfolded in two major waves: the annexation of Crimea by Russia in 2014 and a large-scale invasion in 2022, generating significant geopolitical tension. Globally, social movements such as Black Lives Matter and MeToo highlighted inequalities and abuses, prompting widespread public debates. Technological developments reshaped our everyday life, with the launch of the iPhone in 2007 marking the onset of the smartphone era. The COVID-19 pandemic (2020–2022) further transformed social life, economies, and healthcare systems, accelerating remote work and digital engagement. Simultaneously, major advances in artificial intelligence (AI) and big data analytics transformed the economy, science and culture. In the artistic sphere, these technologies opened new possibilities for creation and collaboration, spanning generative art, digital archiving, virtual museums, and immersive virtual reality (VR) exhibitions.

From the 2020s onwards, Portugal has seen a modest yet growing interest in gender-centred and revisionist curatorial approaches aimed at addressing representational imbalances, reflected in exhibitions that foreground women artists, revisit historical narratives, explore intersectional perspectives, and adopt thematic/commemorative frameworks celebrating specific figures or historical moments. Among the few examples are Half of the Sky [A Metade do Céu], a large-scale project by Pedro Cabrita Reis bringing together works by more than sixty women artists (2019, FASVS); The Time of Women [O Tempo das Mulheres], a commemorative exhibition marking the 50-year career of photographer Alfredo Cunha and highlighting his extensive visual record of women across diverse social and historical contexts (2019/2020, Museum of Lisbon—West Tower); Women and Resistance [Mulheres e Resistência], conceived by Rita Rato and Joana Alves, which addressed the role played by women in anti-fascist struggles during the Estado Novo (2021, Aljube Museum); Where Are They? [Onde Estão Elas?], curated by Paula Loura Batista, offered a critical reflection on the invisibility of women in Portuguese cultural and artistic history, drawing on the institution’s own collection (2025, Neo-Realism Museum); Maria Lamas and Her Women [As Mulheres de Maria Lamas], revisiting her pioneering feminist work, one of the most significant visual-documentary surveys of women’s lives in 20th century Portugal (2024, FCG Art Library); Feminine Art [Arte no Feminino], curated by José Manuel Simões, celebrated the female presence in visual arts, showcasing works by ten contemporary Portuguese women artists (2024, Rectorate of the University of Lisbon); What They Saw. What We See [O que Elas Viram. O que Nós Vemos], envisioned by a female duo—Emília Tavares and Susana Lourenço Marques—unveiled the work of three Portuguese amateur women photographers from the 19th and 20th centuries (2025, Porto Museum—Casa Marta Ortigão Sampaio and MNAC); and 31 Women [31 Mulheres], Patricia Mayayo’s contemporary interpretation of the groundbreaking 1943 show originally curated by renowned collector Peggy Guggenheim (2025, MAC/CCB). Although not held on national territory yet organised in cooperation with the FCG, particular attention should be given to the exhibition The Power with Which We Leap Together [O Poder Com Que Saltamos Juntas], planned by Patricia Mayayo and Giulia Lamoni, and held at the Valencian Institute of Modern Art (IVAM) in 2024.

All I Want emerged in the early 2020s as a notable example of an exhibition that sought to foreground Portuguese women artists by increasing their visibility and recognition. In a country where female authors have historically been underrepresented, this institutional initiative aimed to act as a historical corrective, offering a comprehensive chronology and a critical perspective on the male-dominated canon.

3. Institutions and Visibility: The SNBA and the FCG

Established in 1901 through the merger of the Lisbon Artistic Guild—associated with the Grupo do Leão5, an informal circle of naturalist painters who met regularly at a Lisbon brewery and were immortalised by Columbano Bordalo Pinheiro in a large-scale painting from 18856—and the Society for the Promotion of Fine Arts, the SNBA possesses a long-standing tradition of supporting and fostering the Portuguese art scene7 (Isabel Nogueira 2015, p. 37). It had previously hosted landmark initiatives, such as the First Salon of the Independents [I Salão dos Independentes] in 1930, a decisive move to depart from the prevailing aesthetics of the 1920s, organised by António Ferro and Diogo de Macedo, a sculptor who later became director of the MNAC. Under the Estado Novo regime, the institution hosted the first two Modern Art Exhibitions (1935/1936) of the SPN/SNI, the First Fine Arts Exhibition [I Exposição de Artes Plásticas] in 19578—FCG’s inaugural major initiative, held before the opening of its main building, an opportunity to award prizes and scholarships, providing young artists a chance to present their work to the public, which could enjoy “a panoramic view of the current state of fine arts in Portugal” (preface to the catalogue, cited in França 1991, p. 509)—and Fifty Independent Artists [50 Artistas Independentes] in 1959, a provocative initiative that brought together, at a particularly critical moment in Portugal’s political life, an organising team of artists—Conceição Silva, Fernando Azevedo, João Abel Manta, Jorge Vieira, Júlio Pomar and Marcelino Vespeira, working in collaboration with art critic José-Augusto França—to assert their distance from the norms imposed by the regime9.

Equally noteworthy under the dictatorial period was the First Women’s Exhibition of Fine Arts [I Exposição Feminina de Artes Plásticas], organised at the SNBA in 1942. It featured works by Ana de Gonta Colaço, Aurora Alves de Figueiredo, Beatriz de Melo Schiappa de Azevedo, Bertha Borges, Branca do Nascimento Alarcão, Guida Ottolini, Laura Sauvinet Bandeira, Lucília Rosa de Brito Amaral, Maria Amélia da Costa Nery, Maria Amélia de Magalhães Carneiro, Maria Emília Barbosa Viana, Maria Estela de Faria Sousa, Maria Fernanda Toscano Rico, Maria Keil, Menez, Rosalina Dias Passos, Simone Maia de Loureiro, Theodora Andresen de Abreu, Virgínia Santos de Avelar and Zulcides dos Anjos Teixeira, among many others (I Exposição Feminina de Artes Plásticas 1942). The honorary committee included Adelaide de Lima Cruz, Emília dos Santos Braga, Raquel Roque Gameiro, Sara de Vasconcelos Gonçalves and Zoé Wauthelet Batalha Reis. In turn, the organising team was composed of Alda Machado Santos, Eduarda Lapa, Maria Adelaide de Lima Cruz, Maria de Lourdes de Mello e Castro and Úrsula Leiro Montez. In the catalogue preface, it is stated that the exhibition was created “to highlight all those brilliant feminine qualities which perhaps cannot be so easily evidenced in mixed exhibitions” (I Exposição Feminina de Artes Plásticas 1942). This exhibition—which served the interests of national art and paid due tribute to female artists and intellectuals (I Exposição Feminina de Artes Plásticas 1942), was also driven by women—together with those that followed, positioned the SNBA as a pioneering institution in organising some of the earliest exhibitions dedicated to women.

By hosting these events, the SNBA provided an institutional space where art could be publicly displayed and engaged. The institution’s efforts ensured that many male artists are well known today; unfortunately, most female names have survived only in primary sources such as exhibition catalogues, periodicals, and archival materials. Their works were far less frequently acquired by museums or public collections, and seldom reproduced in art history publications (Filipa Lowndes Vicente 2012a, p. 214).

At the same time, it is important to acknowledge that the SNBA also functioned as an instrument for a government with explicit fascist policies. Some exhibitions reflected the capacity to mediate state-driven cultural agendas, while others, more disruptive, responded to the several demands of artistic modernity. Despite this, the SNBA established itself as a vital node in supporting established and emerging artists, paving the way for later events (Isabel Nogueira 2015, p. 38). For art historian Isabel Nogueira (2015, p. 38), notwithstanding the attention its exhibitions generated in the period immediately preceding the Revolution, SNBA was a commendable hub of a certain form of artistic resistance. Nevertheless, it could have been organised more effectively and rigorously in the post-25 April period (França 2000, pp. 63–64). In any case, the SNBA and the FCG remained, until 1974, the main centres driving the dynamism of the Portuguese art scene. Thereafter, despite some notable events, the SNBA gradually lost its central role (Isabel Nogueira 2015, p. 57).

The FCG was established in 1953, and formalised three years later, in accordance with the testamentary dispositions of Calouste Sarkis Gulbenkian. The philanthropist and art collector, born on 23 March 1869 in what is now Üsküdar, near the capital of Turkey, was a direct descendant of the Princes of Rechdouni, a distinguished family whose origins date back to the 4th century (Tchamkerten 2018, pp. 11, 18). The Armenian patron pursued his studies in Kadıköy, Marseille, and London before settling in Paris (Tchamkerten 2018, pp. 20–21). Lisbon became his final refuge from 1942 to 1955 (Tchamkerten 2018, p. 22).

At the age of 20, he travelled to Azerbaijan, where he first came into contact with the world of oil (Tchamkerten 2018, pp. 23–24). In 1896, he sought refuge in Egypt due to the massacres that had taken place in the Ottoman Empire (Tchamkerten 2018, p. 24). At this point, he was able to reconcile the interests of several nations and secure strategic alliances for the exploitation of natural resources in the Middle East (Tchamkerten 2018, p. 26). Shortly afterwards, he became an economic and financial adviser at the Ottoman embassies in Paris and London, as well as a commercial and diplomatic representative of Persia in the French capital (Tchamkerten 2018, p. 27). In 1910, upon the establishment of the National Bank of Turkey, he was appointed to its board (Tchamkerten 2018, p. 29). Through his persistence and negotiating skills, Calouste Gulbenkian mediated major agreements with oil companies and played a pivotal role in the Turkish Petroleum Company and later the Iraq Petroleum Company—particularly in the definition of the “Red Line”, the geopolitical boundary stipulating that any oil exploration within the former Ottoman Empire required the unanimous consent of all shareholders (Tchamkerten 2018, pp. 29–36).

In addition to his decisive contribution to the oil trade, he possessed an exceptional knowledge of art, and his prodigious collection clearly reflects this, alongside the eclecticism and sensitivity of his choices: from numismatics to Islamic art, from European painting to richly illustrated Persian manuscripts, Impressionist works, Art Déco jewellery, ensembles of Chinese porcelain, French decorative arts, and Caucasian carpets (Tchamkerten 2018, pp. 38–48, 86–98). The Portuguese capital would inherit a substantial parcel of Calouste Gulbenkian’s fortune, along with his art collection and the main headquarters of his foundation (Tchamkerten 2018, pp. 67–71).

In the 1950s, Portuguese society displayed high levels of poverty and a predominantly rural structure, with a large share of the population dependent on agriculture. Life expectancy remained low, diets were often insufficient, and infant mortality was high. Added to this were low wages, highly restrictive labour legislation, a deficient public health system, extremely high illiteracy rates, and a fragile social security framework (Tchamkerten 2018, p. 72). In this context, more specifically in 1955, the FCG launched its first educational initiatives, most notably the publication of key literary works in affordable editions, as well as a network of travelling libraries, thereby broadening access to knowledge for the population across the country (Tchamkerten 2018, pp. 73–75).

In the 1960s, Portugal remained bound by the conservatism imposed by the Estado Novo, but winds of change had begun to blow (Maria Isabel Roque 2019, p. 241). One such sign was the strategic vision of the FCG, whose patronage policy was largely shaped by its first president, José de Azeredo Perdigão (Raquel Henriques da Silva 2023, p. 668). At a time when Paris and London had become spaces of escape, the FCG proved fundamental not only in providing financial support—scholarships and grants—to artists, but also in the acquisition of Portuguese art (Maria Isabel Roque 2019, pp. 241–44). Hope was further sustained by the institution’s broad range of development-oriented initiatives, combined with its commitment to modernity and a firm stance of independence from the regime (Raquel Henriques da Silva 2023, pp. 601–2). In 1969, the inauguration of its premises—the headquarters building and museum—marked a pivotal moment in the history of Portuguese museology (Maria Isabel Roque 2019, p. 243). The complex, unprecedented at the national level, comprised an auditorium, amphitheatres, a congress area, two galleries dedicated to temporary exhibitions, an art library, and a landscaped garden extending over roughly seven hectares (Tchamkerten 2018, pp. 80–81).

The Modern Art Centre (CAM) opened in 1983. For Raquel Henriques da Silva (2023, p. 614), it would become the country’s first museum truly committed to contemporary art and “the only place in Portugal where one can study, appreciate, and understand Portuguese visual contemporaneity”. According to the art historian, it is with the CAM that a rupture takes place, “both concretely and symbolically, with a heritage that denies us the dynamism that museums of contemporary art represented, in Europe and the Americas, for the questioning and development of museological concepts and practices” (Raquel Henriques da Silva 2023, p. 614). Unlike the founder’s collection, the CAM’s collection remains open and continually expanding, committed to preserving its status as one of the most important corpus of Portuguese art from the 20th and 21st centuries. Its relevance in the national artistic context became particularly evident in the exhibition 50 Years of Portuguese Art [50 Anos de Arte Portuguesa]10 held at the FCG in 2007—not only through the presentation of its collection, but also through the numerous reports produced by artists who had received funding since the First Fine Arts Exhibition [I Exposição de Artes Plásticas] and up to the end of the first decade of the 21st century (Márcia Oliveira 2013, pp. 121–22).

In 2024, after being closed since 2020, the CAM gained renewed momentum by blurring its boundaries with the city through the renovation of its building, the southward expansion of its garden, the overhaul of its visual identity, and an ambitious redefinition of its programmatic lines and exhibition strategies. By strengthening the interplay between its collection, research, and public programming, the institution reaffirms its mission as a centre for critical and cultural production, promoting more flexible exhibition formats, experimental curatorial devices, and initiatives that engage diverse communities. This series of transformations consolidates its role as a key reference point within Portuguese society.

4. Portuguese Women Artists

In 1977, on the 75th anniversary of the SNBA, Portuguese Women Artists was first presented, before travelling to the CCP, the Paris outpost of the FCG. Conceived as a comprehensive review of female creative activity in Portugal, the exhibition marked a pivotal moment of institutional visibility for female creative practices. Organised with the support of the SEC, the MNAC, and the FCG, the show issued an open call, whose jury included some of the most relevant figures in Portuguese art and criticism of the time: João Rocha de Sousa, Sílvia Chicó, Emília Nadal, Clara Menéres and Salette Tavares (Sociedade Nacional de Belas-Artes 1977, p. 1). The show unfolded across the grand salon and the MNAC room, a gallery located on SNBA’s first floor, that served as an extension of the main exhibition, paying tribute to deceased artists through works drawn from the museum’s collection (Sociedade Nacional de Belas-Artes 1977, p. 41). From the 171 submissions received through a public open call, 73 were selected, including works by Alice Jorge, Dorita Castel-Branco, Gracinda Candeias, Isabel Laginhas, Maria Augusta Bordalo Pinheiro, Maria Benamor, Maria do Carmo Galvão Telles, Maria Gabriel, Marília Viegas, Matilde Marçal, Rosa Fazenda and Teresa Magalhães (Sociedade Nacional de Belas-Artes 1977, p. 1). In his second presentation, held in France between March and June, a new selection of works was made by José Sommer Ribeiro, architect and then director of the Exhibitions and Museography Department at the FCG, and by the painter Fernando de Azevedo11.

In January, at the opening press conference held—portrayed by pioneering journalist Manuela Saraiva de Azevedo as an occasion “in which women decided to show up in force and with confidence […] those who had been considered the weaker sex […] rolled up their sleeves, leaving the American women painters very embarrassed” (published in Diário de Notícias on 27 January 1977, quoted in Rodrigues 2017, p. 289)—the committee announced their association with the travelling exhibition Liberation: 14 American Artists, presented in 1976 at the Soares dos Reis National Museum in Porto and, a year later, at the SNBA, running in parallel with Portuguese Women Artists (Sociedade Nacional de Belas-Artes 1977, pp. 28–29). Works by Ann McCoy, Claudia Demonte, Elena Borstein, Harriet Korman, Jacqueline Winsor, Janet Fish, Jennifer Bartlett, Lee Bontecou, Lynda Benglis, Manon Cleary, Mary Corse, Nancy Graves, Rebecca Davenport, and Susan Weil were exhibited in Lisbon, under the auspices of the Press and Cultural Service of the United States Embassy (Rodrigues 2017, pp. 287–89).

Notably, it was also in 1976 that Women Artists: 1550–1950 was held, first at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art and later at the Brooklyn Museum12. Curated by Linda Nochlin and Ann Sutherland Harris, it is widely regarded as the exhibition that inaugurated this type of large-scale approach in the United States. For Maura Reilly (2018, p. 28), the exhibition “literally resurrected works by women artists, such as Italian painters Lavinia Fontana (1552–1614) and Sonisba Anguissola (1532–1625), from museum storage in the USA and Western Europe. Previously obliterated from history, these artists are now highly visible—they are taught in schools, colleges, and universities, and feature in academic dissertations as well as in the major textbooks of art history”. Although Portuguese Women Artists cannot be understood as a direct consequence of this historiographically expansive project—since it focused primarily on living artists—it may be read as emerging within the same international climate of feminist curatorial experimentation. Yet, in a post-revolutionary context, it went beyond this stimulus, standing as a decisive statement as one of the country’s first women-only exhibitions.

The parallel programme of events13 proved similarly noteworthy, fostering engagement and prompting rare debates around the role of women artists and their creative vitality. Between January and February, Portuguese Women Artists featured colloquia, music and poetry recitals, the screening of Ana Hatherly’s iconic short film Revolution [Revolução] (1975)14, collective improvisations, readings by actresses Eunice Muñoz, Glicínia Quartin, and Lourdes Norberto, concerts, and a rich roundtable on women and creativity, moderated by one of Portugal’s pioneering journalists, Maria Antónia Palla (Sociedade Nacional de Belas-Artes 1977).

As professor Sílvia Chicó rightly stated: “Through the diversity of activities it carried out, the exhibition provided an overview of women’s artistic interventions in both historical and contemporary Portuguese contexts” (Sociedade Nacional de Belas-Artes 1977, p. 1). The professor further remarked that, despite not having been explicitly intended as a feminist initiative, controversy still surrounded the exhibition, because it “could not fail to be perceived as such: the very fact that only works by women were grouped was surprising and provoking for an audience unaccustomed to similar interventions”. Accordingly, the exhibition drew some criticism—for instance, Francisco de Sousa Neves, who alludes to the poor installation of a “vast exhibition of artists, all female, some Portuguese and others American, separated by a partition, strictly divided so that the bad painting perpetuated in our country would not be confused with the bad painting practiced abroad” (Márcia Oliveira 2013, pp. 141–42)—as well as protests from those who considered that women faced absolutely no discrimination within the artistic ecosystem (Sociedade Nacional de Belas-Artes 1977, p. 1), a perspective shared by Emília Nadal, João Rocha de Sousa (Márcia Oliveira 2013, pp. 142–43) and several of the artists participating in the exhibition (Ferreira 2018, p. 30). Clara Menéres, however, asserted herself as the only feminist artist in Portugal, openly articulating her dissent regarding this position (Márcia Oliveira 2013, p. 142).

The organising committee, probably attentive to international artistic trends, played a pivotal role in shaping the exhibition’s initial scope and selection. Equally fundamental was the institutional commitment and openness exemplified by the SNBA. For the FCG, the value of Portuguese Women Artists was unquestionable—so much so that it could represent Portugal abroad. José Blanco, director of the International Service, described it as an occasion of “great artistic importance, widely praised by critics, and one that highlights (or brings to light) the talent of contemporary Portuguese women painters and sculptors” (in a letter to José V. Pina Martins, dated 7 February 1977)15. The foundation’s involvement lent legitimacy and gravitas to the exhibition, transforming a local event into an opportunity for recognition, career development, and international visibility, thereby enhancing the prestige of these artists beyond Portuguese borders. Supported by a major institution, endowed with unprecedented resources at the national level and a clear commitment to independence from the regime’s ideology (Raquel Henriques da Silva 2023, p. 603), this singular initiative achieved a more lasting impact, a wider reach, and also a deeper resonance. Márcia Oliveira (2013, pp. 145–46) reports, as a consequence, the participation of a group of artists in the international event Féminie-Dialogue in 1979 and 1985, held in Paris under the auspices of UNESCO and once again financially supported by the FCG (Márcia Oliveira 2017, p. 225). However, the impact of this international endeavour has not yet been deeply examined. Some artists effectively gained a certain degree of prominence, as they were included in All I Want years later. Others remained almost entirely unknown to this day.

5. All I Want. Portuguese Women Artists from 1900 to 2020

In 2021, All I Want debuted at the FCG in Lisbon, where it was on view from 2 June to 23 August, occupying both the main gallery and the temporary exhibition gallery. Organised within the framework of the Portuguese Presidency of the Council of the European Union, the exhibition was coordinated by the Ministry of Culture in collaboration with the Portuguese National Plan for the Arts and curated by Helena de Freitas (FCG) and Bruno Marchand (Culturgest). The following year, it travelled to the CCC OD in Tours, as part of the Portugal-France Season. In total, three presentations were planned—the first, scheduled for the Palais des Beaux-Arts (BOZAR) in Brussels, from 26 February to 23 May 2021, was cancelled due to a fire that partially affected the venue (Helena de Freitas and Bruno Marchand 2021, p. 7). All I Want offered a belated—yet necessary—reflection on the role of women, in a clear attempt to confront and redress the historical erasure of their artistic production16.

According to the curators (Helena de Freitas and Bruno Marchand 2021, p. 27), the title of the exhibition was inspired by a fragment of a poem by Russian-German writer Lou Andreas-Salomé (2015): “All I want is one thing: space, nothing but space”. Recognised as one of the first female psychoanalysts and a figure of fascination for many leading intellectuals at that time, she articulated insightful reflections on women’s roles within the social, intellectual, erotic, and sexual spheres. This choice also establishes a temporal correspondence with the painter Aurélia de Sousa, born in the same decade, whose self-portrait functions as the point of departure for the exhibition (Helena de Freitas and Bruno Marchand 2021, p. 27). Structured into 14 thematic sections, the exhibition gathered 40 Portuguese women artists and nearly 200 works, spanning from the early 20th century to the present, providing a singular cartography of Portuguese creativity through a feminine lens. The exhibition brought together prominent figures such as Ângela Ferreira, Ana Vidigal, Carla Filipe, Fernanda Fragateiro, Filipa César, Gabriela Albergaria, Grada Kilomba, Helena Almeida, Maria José Oliveira, Ofélia Marques, Rosa Carvalho, Sónia Almeida and Susanne Themlitz. Topics addressed were equally diverse, encompassing The Place of the Artist, Feminine Plural, Central Body, The Gaze and the Mirror, The Word, The Space of Writing, Construction, Le Vivant, The House, The Political, Collective Memories, A World of Illusions, The Women of My Country, Vernacular Life, The Theatre of the Body, and Listen to Me. A complementary programme featured some guided tours and talks.

It was introduced17 in the following terms: “Against all obstacles, these artists from different generations and sensibilities have earned their place, due to the strength and quality of their artistic proposals. Celebrating this achievement requires resisting the illustrative approach suggested by a representation that is generic (women artists) and national (Portuguese). But it also reminds us that, in the 21st century, nothing is consolidated as far as gender equality is concerned and that these works are elements of a long collective effort for the right to full artistic existence”. This brings forth so many questions. Which artists have genuinely claimed their place—all 40 of them, or only a few whose trajectories had already been institutionally validated, perhaps through periods of residence abroad that provided them with visibility and recognition otherwise very difficult to attain within the national art scene? What kind of place is this, and by what means can their impact be measured? Can this exhibition truly defend itself from being associated with an essentialist perspective?

By its very configuration, All I Want sparked a range of divergent opinions. Helena de Freitas and Bruno Marchand (2021, p. 25) are resolute about the symbolism of this exhibition as an essential document of these artists’ battles for the full right to their voices. However, their focus remained on emphasising the artistic relevance of these works, thus preventing the show from being misinterpreted. In other words, the two curators considering it crucial to minimise “the merely ideological, illustrative and identity-based nature that an exercise of this kind tends to involve, and which is not a consensual matter among the represented artists themselves”, having both insisted that All I Want should not be read either as historical or as mere manifesto (Helena de Freitas and Bruno Marchand 2021, pp. 25–27). Yet, journalist Sílvia Souto Cunha (2021) argues that the exhibition embodies an unequivocal manifesto-like intent, which resonates with contemporary struggles for gender equity. For professor Maria Isabel Roque (2021), this was a well-achieved task, as it addresses “women’s desire(s) to occupy the space that is theirs”. Even so, she contends All I Want was not a feminist statement—since these artists have diverse intentions and perspectives shaped by their own contexts—or a plain “manifesto on gender issues, but rather an exhibition that reveals a universe of meanings and expressions under the sign (or design) of the feminine” (Maria Isabel Roque 2021). Still, the researcher highlights its political dimension, citing instances of reflection and social consciousness-raising, exemplified by the inclusion of the activist writer Maria Lamas (Maria Isabel Roque 2021).

By contrast, curator Filipa Oliveira, in an interview with young art producer Maria Brito Matias (2021, pp. 147–57), states that, unfortunately, All I Want was not particularly political, noting a deliberate avoidance of the term feminism. She further notes that the display itself raised several doubts—for instance, the presence of a single Black woman and the absence of two pivotal activist generations, namely those born after the 1980s and in the 1990s. In her view, the FCG, endowed with considerable communicative power and the capacity to reach wide audiences, ought to have developed a more ambitious and sustained public programme, capable of fostering critical debate. While recognising All I Want as an important effort that drew long-overdue attention to female artists, Filipa Oliveira maintains that, by sidestepping deeper dialogues, it ultimately fell short. In this context, it is important to note that the political idea and decision came from the Minister of Culture at the time, Graça Fonseca; nevertheless, curators Helena de Freitas and Bruno Marchand consciously decided to set aside the propagandistic issues.

In the end, fully aware of the challenges inherent to an undertaking of this magnitude, the selected curatorial duo ultimately emphasises—somewhat in their own defence?—that the show functioned, above all, as an exercise in attentiveness and respect, with the experience of its unfolding proving much more significant than any tangible outcome (Helena de Freitas and Bruno Marchand 2021, p. 32). Thus, this initiative can be primarily understood as a meritorious process of publicly honouring these Portuguese woman artists; yet, when critically evaluated, its impact and transformative potential remained sadly circumscribed.

6. Towards a Comparative Reading

As discussed earlier, in a post-revolutionary context, Portuguese Women Artists acted as a vehicle of cultural diplomacy, helping to assert the country’s presence and reputation within the global artistic landscape. Yet, according to Isabel Nogueira (2015, p. 101), by observing the exhibition catalogue, “we can discern a dominant trend in the collective exhibitions of this period: the marked inequality in the aesthetic and artistic quality of the works presented”. It should be noted that, apart from a few newspaper clippings, which reveal only small details, unfortunately, no photographic documentation has been preserved. Consequently, the works reproduced in the catalogue—all in black and white—constitute the sole remaining material from which a virtual reconstruction of the exhibition can be attempted. Although it cannot fully convey the exhibition’s spatial and experiential aspects, the catalogue remains an essential tool for any analysis—yet it records only the authorship, titles and dimensions of the works, omitting their techniques and materials18. Nevertheless, this document still makes it possible to observe that the selection of works reflects a clear intention to encompass a wide range of tendencies and artistic approaches—from lyrical and geometric abstraction to new figuration, from surrealism to popular-inspired practices, from naïve paintings to interventionist sculptures, as well as avant-garde tapestry, jewellery, drawing, photography, printmaking, stage masks and audiovisual works (Sociedade Nacional de Belas-Artes 1977, p. 1).

The catalogue of the first major exhibition after the Carnation Revolution to address gender inequality in Portugal also reveals several bold curatorial choices, such as Ancestors [Antepassados] (1966) by Menez—a painting that brings her own family lineage into dialogue, as the granddaughter Óscar Carmona, and, by extension, the turbulent sociopolitical history of the country; Venus Shell [Concha de Vénus] (1977) by Clara Menéres—an explicit sculptural representation of the female sexual organ; and Holy Domestic Peace, Domesticated? [Santa Paz Doméstica, Domesticada?] (1977) by Ana Vieira—a satirical installation on the woman’s submissive role and the symbolic oppression associated with the domestic space, staged through the performative re-creation of an everyday scene. These works contrasted with the popular visual language of Sarah Affonso—Ex-Voto/Mermaid [Ex-Voto/Sereia] (1939), a piece profoundly rooted in Minho’s rich imagetic universe, deploying a devotional and festive grammar, a saturated palette, and a flat composition that articulates tradition, religiosity, local folklore and mythology; and with the naïf style of Maria Antónia Correia Martins Gomes—evident in the light gesture, vibrant colour scheme, childlike subject matter, absence of perspective and formal simplification that lend Sweethearts [Namorados] its serene character and gentle charm.

Although Portuguese Women Artists did not present explicit thematic groupings, the works were organised into two rooms, the smaller of which was dedicated to artists born between 1840 and 1928, thereby enabling a historical reading of women’s production and its transformations. By contrast, the several rooms of All I Want brought together different generations, styles, and techniques: from the grotesque ceramics of Rosa Ramalho—Animal (1960) to the derisive sculptures of Susanne Themlitz—Series “The Vertebral and Invertebrate II” [“Vertebrados e Invertebrais II”] (2007); from the provocative performative actions of Armanda Duarte—Head, Torso and Limbs [Cabeça, Tronco e Membros] (2012) to the surreal drawings of Maria Antónia Siza—Untitled [Sem Título] (1960s); from the powerful sound installation by Luísa Cunha—Madam! [Senhora!] (2010) to the delicate engravings of Mily Possoz—Étude de Garçonnet (1931); from the politicised collages of Ana Vidigal—The end is in the middle [O fim está no meio] (2017) to the vibrant oils of Maria Helena Vieira da Silva—Tragic History of the Sea or Shipwreck [História Trágico-Marítima ou Naufrage] (1944); from the raw photographic projects of Patrícia Almeida—Series “Portobello” (2008/2009) to the distorted “dolls” of Paula Rego—The Princess and the Pea [A Princesa e a Ervilha] (1978); and from the compelling films of Filipa César—Memogram [Memograma] (2010) to the intricate textile objects of Maria José Oliveira—Muscular Systema and Vertebral Column [Sistema Muscular e Coluna Vertebral] (2004).

Despite their different approaches, it is noteworthy that a few works and artists were present in both exhibitions, including In the Studio [No Atelier] (1916) by Aurélia de Sousa and Ourobesouro (1965) by Salette Tavares, as well as Sarah Affonso, Maria Keil, Menez, Ana Hatherly, Paula Rego, Ana Vieira, Clara Menéres, Graça Morais, and Mily Possoz. The latter exhibition also introduced a small number of artists from a younger generation, including Inês Botelho, Isabel Carvalho (both born in 1977) and Sónia Almeida (born in 1978), the youngest of them all.

Comparing these curatorial options reveals that, in the case of Portuguese Women Artists, activism was inseparable from the post-25 April context. The exhibition acted as an urgent cultural intervention in a country and an artistic field in flux, driven by the need to make visible, repair and uphold rights. Its impact lay in assembling a group of Portuguese women artists in a legitimising space—occupying an established institution without directly confronting it. All I Want, on the other hand, took place at a moment when some artistic institutions had partially absorbed the feminist demands, and the critique no longer bore the same immediate character, although it was still necessary. It instead assumed the form of a historical revision, supported by a renowned foundation and international circulation. Whereas the 1977 exhibition presented a direct political message, in 2021/2022, the approach was more measured and less confrontational. This shift underscores the trajectory of a curatorial strategy but also the broader path of feminist practices in the Portuguese artistic field: from post-revolutionary urgency to critical integration within institutional discourse. If read against the international context—where the first landmark show addressing gender and feminist issues emerged in the late 1970s (Women Artists), followed by the transgressive and provocative approaches of the 1990s (Bad Girls, Inside The Visible, Sexual Politics), and culminating in the large-scale, often intersectional retrospectives of the early 2000s and 2010s (Global Feminisms, Wack!, Elles)—Portuguese Women Artists appears as a timely initiative, whereas All I Want may be understood as arriving comparatively late, echoing debates that had already been extensively articulated in other geographies.

Finally, it must be noted that in both Portuguese Women Artists and All I Want, celebration operates as a charged and ambivalent curatorial gesture. In 1977, to celebrate women artists in post-revolutionary Portugal meant rendering visible a constituency that had been systematically excluded from institutional recognition. Here, celebration was therefore inseparable from protest, operating as a strategy of rupture and urgent claim-making within a newly democratising art world. By contrast, in the early 2020s, celebration unfolded under markedly different historical conditions. Its tone no longer signals an inaugural act of visibility but rather exposes the unfinished nature of institutional redress. The very need to celebrate women artists in the 21st century—within a major national institution and under the auspices of state cultural policy—reveals not only a delayed process but also the extent to which inclusion continues to appear as an exceptional event rather than as a normalised condition. Read together, these exhibitions demonstrate how the meaning of celebration shifts according to context. They expose a recurring deferral within the Portuguese art world of the sustained integration of women artists into its narratives and collections, marking periodic moments of heightened visibility necessary to compensate for long-standing structural absences.

7. Final Considerations

To analyse the evolution of exhibitions devoted to women artists in Portugal—tracing initiatives that aimed to promote their visibility and recognition, from early exhibitions to contemporary practices—and, consequently, their curatorial strategies as tools of resistance to gender asymmetries, two seminal examples were selected for a closer examination, from the several cited throughout this article.

The 1977 exhibition responded with audacity to a global feminist discourse that had emerged only a few years earlier. Its format, however, remained anchored in a salon-style logic, with primarily local and limited impact. Nevertheless, the show at the SNBA carries considerable symbolic significance, reflecting the still experimental and nascent nature of feminist consciousness in Portugal at the time. By contrast, in 2021/2022, the approach was definitely more deliberate and intersectional, grounded in a broader theoretical framework. Today, gender studies and institutional policies guided by principles of diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) occupy a prominent place on the cultural agenda. All I Want, produced with international ambition, proposed a thematic layout and an analytical narrative, rather than a simple aggregation of works by Portuguese women artists. The exhibition held at the FCG and the CCC OD is situated within a global context of critical historiography, in an era dominated by the digital ecosystem, engaging directly with other curatorial projects beyond the country’s borders. Yet the parallel programme of Portuguese Women Artists was comparatively broader, more comprehensive, and diverse. Both exhibitions demonstrate a clear intent to encompass multiple media and periods.

Both exhibitions projected an anthological vision, seeking to fill historical gaps, question dominant narratives, and reposition forgotten figures. Nevertheless, these curatorial frameworks reveal a similar posture—defensive yet critical. Portuguese Women Artists and All I Want emphasised individual creativity and aesthetic excellence over an explicit feminist claim, transforming them into subtle manifestations of restrained activism. Their discreet intention was to leverage institutional visibility through a cautious strategy, assembling artists whose practices engaged with feminist concerns—while also including those opposed, as noted above—despite the curators not explicitly endorsing these affiliations. Perhaps, had they embraced a more assertive message, the transformative potential could have been significantly amplified, allowing a more daring intervention within both the artistic canon and institutional practices.

This analysis raises several questions. Even if an exhibition does not explicitly identify as feminist, can one featuring only women artists truly escape being perceived that way? Who determines whether it is? Must it be defined as feminist at all? Or has that discourse already become intrinsic, tacit, and immanent? To what extent does the intention of the organisers or artists determine whether an exhibition is feminist, or is the interpretation by audiences and critics equally decisive? Will they ever resist being labelled feminist, even when challenging patriarchal structures or highlighting women’s creativity? And is it possible for an exhibition to have feminist effects on cultural memory even if it did not claim a feminist agenda at the time? Although an exhibition composed solely of women artists may refuse the label feminist at the level of its intention, it does not control the framework through which it is read, remembered, or reinscribed into history—since this is not determined exclusively by the discourse of its organisers or artists. Factors such as audience, critic, and subsequent historiographical readings play a decisive role in attributing meaning, particularly when the exhibition intervenes, consciously or not, in structures of exclusion, visibility, and power. The simple act of foregrounding women’s artistic production within a historically patriarchal art system can generate a feminist connotation, even in the absence of an explicit claim. In other words, with temporal distance, it is possible to assert that Portuguese Women Artists and All I Want acquired a more evident feminist character as their subversive role was recognised. Feminist discourse, in this sense, proves to be tacit and immanent: not always named, but active in the ways these two exhibitions are remembered, reinterpreted, and mobilised in the history of Portuguese art.

These two commendable initiatives undeniably helped to inscribe the work of many women artists in Portugal’s cultural history. Both exhibitions carried an assertive character readily associated with a feminist perspective, even if their curators claimed otherwise. Their role is unparalleled in the history of Portuguese art exhibitions. Although methodologically distinct, they share a similar premise and converge in a celebratory stance, affirming the Portuguese woman as a creative human being. For Filipa Lowndes Vicente (2012a, p. 191), critics often read these kinds of exhibitions “as ‘celebrations of the feminine’, without deconstructing the essentialist and monolithic ways in which they end up reducing the multiplicity and complexity of meanings encompassed by the term ‘women’. Instead, they explore only those meanings that have been the most frequently repeated visual stereotypes—not only in art but also in the visual culture of modernity”. Yet, these exhibitions explicitly renounce a feminist position. Still, despite many of their choices being debatable, could these not be seen as curatorial strategies of resistance to gender asymmetries?

These two shows focus on what Maura Reilly (2018, pp. 25–29) defines as “area studies”. According to the curator: “This type of approach may encourage exhibitions that spotlight Women Artists, African American Art, LGBTQ Art, Middle-Eastern Art, and so on”19 (Maura Reilly 2018, p. 25). She notes that since the 1970s, numerous exhibitions in Europe and the United States have adopted this model, because it “is often seen as the most effective way to diversify the historical canon and/or contemporary discourse” (Maura Reilly 2018, p. 26). However, the arts writer also acknowledges that:

These exhibitions are sophisticated and complex studies, but they are viewed as entirely separated from the canon. This is why many postcolonial and feminist theorists have argued against them, claiming that they are ghettoising, segregating, and culturally and/or biologically essentialist insofar as they isolate artists on the basis of their gender, nationality, and sexuality—or indeed, any other difference—and create specialised, separatist museums and exhibitions spaces (for example, the Jewish Museum, the National Museum of Women in the Arts, the Center for Feminist Art at the Brooklyn Museum, the Leslie Lohman Gay and Lesbian Museum).

(Maura Reilly 2018, p. 26)

Responding to the assumption that there is no longer a need for exhibitions dedicated to historically marginalised groups—since they have supposedly been integrated into contemporary art shows—or selection processes based solely on gender, ethnicity, or similar criteria, Käthe Kollwitz, the pseudonym of a founding member of feminist art collective Guerrilla Girls, provocatively asks: “Let’s get real here! In this post-studio era, how can you justify shows of ‘video artists’, ‘painters’, ‘sculptors’, or ‘photographers’? In fact, since any curatorial intervention limits the reading of an artist’s work, by pushing into some thesis or other, we propose there should be no more exhibitions at all!” (Guerrilla Girls, cited in Maura Reilly 2018, pp. 26–27). Indeed, artistic production has long been organised according to multiple categories: geographies, periods, movements, schools and tendencies. Could gender not be one more? Internationally, debate remains intense over whether all-women exhibitions constitute tokenistic gestures or effective, sustained methods for achieving the long-sought gender equity within the art system. In fact, it is worth stressing that, if we wish to be precise, Portuguese Women Artists did not include only works by women, as the exhibition also featured a piece by Grupo Puzzle (which included Graça Morais but was predominantly male).

While the significance of All I Want and Portuguese Women Artists is unquestionable, we must admit that they both fell short of expectations—the first, in reaching broader audiences, as society at the time was still adjusting to its recent gained freedom and remained cautious or, in a certain way, unprepared; and the second, in fostering a more critical discussion on the current situation and in including younger women and those from historically marginalised groups. Besides, we also must consider whether these kinds of curatorial interventions inadvertently limit the reading of these artists’ work by reinforcing gender stereotypes—and, at the same time, whether such exhibitions might, in fact, deepen and broaden our understanding of art produced by women. So, can gender-based exhibitions really offer a viable solution? What impact have they already had on the art world? To what extent are they still necessary today? How can curatorial strategies resist, intervene, and bridge this persistent representational gap? And, ultimately, what more can curating do?

Maura Reilly offers us a compelling response: “We should perhaps be thinking less about the potentially ghettoising effects of these types of specialist exhibitions, and more about their positive aspects—for example, as curatorial frameworks that allow us to present outstanding works of art to the public, often for the first time” (2018, p. 27). As the arts writer and curator further highlights: “Until Other artists have a far stronger foothold in the system and have achieved equality in representation, it is important that we preserve these exhibitions, spaces, curatorial positions, and labels” even as we acknowledge and critically reflect upon their inherent fragilities (Maura Reilly 2018, p. 29). Such exhibitions not only represent historical achievements but also persist as vital catalysts, provoking ongoing debates on equity and the ethical responsibilities of curatorship.