1. Introduction
In 2019, in the group exhibition
Maculadas sin Remedio, there was a two-piece pictorial work representing a map. Its title was
La Manada City (
The Wolf Pack City), and its subtitle was
Commemorative Map of the last four centuries of Patriarchy. In the exhibition catalogue, however, only one of the pieces appeared containing the work’s title, and it was announced as a work in progress (
Rodríguez-Cunill et al. 2019). Nevertheless, the broad media dissemination showed that only two pieces were exhibited. A bilingual street guide accompanied these pieces in English and Spanish. However, in the work of art, the names of streets, points of interest, monuments, etc., were written in English. It looked like a vision of Google Earth or Google Maps in the satellite view, with a certain three-dimensionality as it was a collage with different techniques. In several tabs, we were given more information (thumbnails and the number of reviews).
The piece of art titled
La Manada City was signed under a pseudonym registered as a trademark in 2017—Inma la Inmunda (Inma the Filthy). The artist has used this signature in previous works that depict violent situations (
Saint Martin and Marroquín 2022;
Rodríguez-Cunill 2021;
Rodríguez Muñoz 2019). Inma la Inmunda, the artist in question, is often referred to by a name that she did not choose for herself. Rather, the meaning of this label was given to her by others. However, instead of allowing this insult to define her, Inma la Inmunda has turned it into a source of inspiration for her artwork. Through her clever incorporation of this label into her pieces, she effectively reclaims the insult and transforms it into something powerful and meaningful. That is why she collects the traces of that psychological violence, whether by printing the anonymous messages received in her work, by printing the denigrating reports about her that have been hidden, or even by collecting silver blister packs of pills. In fact, some of her works were created using blister packs of pills collected by Inma la Inmunda and others were based on anonymous messages received during a prolonged period of workplace harassment. It should be mentioned that the artist goes by the pseudonym “Inma la Magnánima” (Inma the Magnanimous) in pieces that do not incorporate violence-generated materials (
Cunill 2021). This research is crucial as it sheds light on the artistic processes employed in a unique and complex pictorial work that is still evolving. By studying this artwork, we aim to bring attention to systemic violence, a theme already present in the artist’s previous works. In addition, the artist’s individual experiences and universal reflections on group mistreatment and psychological attacks will be explored.
These two first wood panels of
La Manada City are the only ones exhibited so far. However, the work in progress continued during the period of confinement. In 2021, a book was registered in ISBN under the title
La Manada City by Inma la Inmunda. Apart from other previous works, it contained a painting collage of eight pieces of a large map of violence. The first two pieces coincided with those exhibited in
Maculadas sin Remedio. In addition, their arrangement allowed a horizontal reading (
Figure 1) from left to right (1.5 × 8 m) or a visualization similar to many maps in a format of 3 × 4 m (
Figure 2).
This artwork is vital because it presents different levels of reading that illustrate the problem of violence in a city. Furthermore, given the verbal dimension of this pictorial work in the form of a map, it seems pivotal to carry out a linguistic and literary analysis of the clues about the city of violence that we see represented in La Manada City. However, due to the map’s features, which could be extended indefinitely, finding more linguistic data in future pieces could be possible.
Literature has numerous antecedents of descriptions of cities from an emotional point of view and from the injustices that occur in the world and, therefore, in cities. For example, in the 15th century, Christine de Pizán (
de Pizán and Lemarchand [1405] 2022) created a city of ladies responding to the misogyny of men in society, especially clergymen. In his written account of walking by the Hypocrisy Street,
Quevedo (
1627) described the moral evils of the cities of his time. Reflection on cities from an emotional point of view has been a constant in the Western world and has highlighted what single oppressive thought and propaganda hide.
The map of La Manada City is explicitly developed in the artistic, university, and anti-women spheres but also operates, as we shall see, at different levels (from the autographical to the community, local, and global).
We will trace the path from the use of the language to the conclusions about the value of this artwork as a means of surviving in a hostile environment. In previous works, one of the authors has documented the Diary of Incidents, a tool for psychological and legal use in case of group harassment (
Rodríguez-Cunill 2021). They can be considered the original starting point for the literary process of Inma la Inmunda. We will investigate the mental processes underlying her creative labour in
La Manada City. Before proceeding, it is essential to examine the context behind the creation of this map.
2. Context
The first piece of the work, which includes its title, was showcased to the public in an exhibition that started on 10 January 2019, so the concept dates back to 2018, with various events occurring in Seville and Spain triggering the inception of La Manada City.
The 400th anniversary of the birth of Sevillian painter Bartolomé Esteban Murillo was celebrated with the Murillo Year event, showcased both inside and outside the city. The event was a collaborative effort of various institutions “to bring Baroque painting closer to citizens and visitors alike. Our guiding thread is “Murillo’s innovative gaze,” which links his innovative contributions to the modern and cultural capital of the intertwines history and innovation, past, and present” (
Murillo 2018).
The painter’s work was not analyzed from a gender perspective, nor was it acknowledged how his propagandistic painting could negatively affect women and women painters. This is particularly relevant when considering his visual representation of the Immaculate Conception of Mary, which eventually led to the Vatican’s acceptance of this dogma in 1854. The proposal of Maculadas Sin Remedio (where the first two pieces of La Manada City were exhibited) was intended to fill the void that had not been addressed institutionally, highlighting the importance of women’s initiatives in the art world. Interestingly, specific spaces in La Manada City are marked by painted versions of hands found in various works by Murillo.
- 2.
April 2018 was a key date in which an important media and social debate began. That month, the Provincial Court of Navarra convicted five aggressors for sexual abuse. During the San Fermín festival in Pamplona in 2016, a group of five males brutally raped a young woman in the doorway of a building. The court decision raised the alarm and discussions about consent, the right to privacy, the ideal of “the good victim,” the need for gender sensitization of the judiciary, the good health of feminism, and the mobilization of anti-feminism… This case received significant global attention and was even a topic of discussion in the European Parliament. The UN Women’s Sexual Harassment Coordinator, Puna Sen, criticized the sentence, stressing the importance of safeguarding women’s rights. Despite this, a higher judicial authority upheld the ruling in December 2018 (
Sánchez-Ramos 2021), and the ongoing debate continues concerning its impact on Spanish law. However, it is worth noting that it was precisely in 2018 when Inma la Inmunda used the name “La Manada” to create a pictorial map of the city. Since the case arrived in the media, the name “La Manada” has carried multidimensional connotations that have sparked political debates in pre-election periods and the approval of laws affecting women’s rights. Nonetheless, using the name “La Manada” was fitting for the painting in 2018 since
the five attackers in the case hailed from Seville, which is a significant detail.
Inma la Inmunda had been bringing attention to incidents of group violence in her workplace, and 2018 marked the 10th anniversary of the foundation of the Platform Against Workplace Harassment and for Democracy at the University of Seville. After ten years without artistic output, Inma la Inmunda unveiled her installation
Invisibilización in 2017. This installation incorporated pharmaceutical evidence of the treatments she had taken to cope with a case of psychological harassment (
Rodríguez-Cunill 2017). The name “La Manada” acquired a special significance in those space-time coordinates: Seville, 2018.
Furthermore, the cooperation between wolves within a pack is most apparent in the global imagery during a hunt. A wolf pack may trail a herd of elk or other large prey for days before making its final move (assessing the herd, looking for signs of weakness, etc.). This idea must have been in the imagination of the five Sevillian aggressors of the gang rape case, who gave their Whatsapp group the name “La Manada” (The pack). As a city of violence, Seville is in the background of the imagery developed on the map we are dealing with.
- 3.
Too, the Seville of 2018 was the protagonist in the media for the judicial persecution of three women who participated on Labor Day (1 May 2014) in what was called the parade of the “Insubmissive Pussy” on behalf of the “Guild of the Sacred Rebellious Pussy and the Sacred Burial of Social and Workers’ Rights” (
Burgen 2019). In it, the image of a plastic vagina was shown on a processional parade, and humorous leaflets about women’s rights and lyrics for singing songs were handed out at the demonstration. A first complaint by the Spanish Association of Christian Lawyers, considering that it was an attack on the symbols of the Catholic religion, was filed in the first instance (
Reviejo 2019). However, the judicial persecution continued over the years, focused on feminist activists in the Sevillian environment.
The text of “Anno Murillo, patriarchal underworld” (
La Inmunda 2017) alludes to the persecuted feminists; while in the same year 2018, in support of feminist colleagues harassed and other victims of harassment known through the Platform against harassment at work and for Democracy, she creates her particular
Sacred Pussy, but this time
Insubmissive to the glass ceiling at the University of Seville (
Rodríguez-Cunill 2019).
In sum, Inma la Inmunda’s artistic silence was broken with the release of her work Invisibilización which showcased the activist dimension of her character. In addition, she collected a significant amount of blister packs of pills, mostly from women, which became a part of her latest work La Manada City. This contextualization was essential to highlight her artwork’s literary complexity.
3. Results
Our analysis focuses on the linguistic dynamics present in La Manada City regarding specific semantic fields and the identification and explanation of literary devices. In addition, an analysis of the artist’s name, Inma la Inmunda, has been conducted, too, for its connection to the work.
3.1. Linguistic Dynamics According to Semantic Fields
Analysing streets, monuments, squares, sites of interest, etc., has yielded numerous results. First, we established key questions to infer which questions the names painted on the map might answer. This provided us with a whole set of 10 terminology clusters that reveal a way of thinking about violence, of which the names of streets and other sites of interest are a response (
Table 1).
Through this table, we did conclude relevant aspects about the mind that created this violence map. It may be one of the most intriguing traits for the visitor/reader of the La Manada City map since connotations are present in the dynamics of reception, and reading gives value to the strength of this map, which, as we have said, is based on the objective of making concealed violence visible.
Indeed, we observe some general trends that reveal a structured thought since the streets, roads, monuments, etc., respond to the key questions, we deduced from the semantic fields finally defined in points 1 to 10. Therefore, we understand this pictorial work as a testimony and study of a broad spectrum of harassment from the autobiographical experience to violence against the planet.
In the autobiographical aspects, we have pointed out local references (group 7). For example, the parallelism between the Pantheon of Illustrious Manadians constitutes a veiled reference to the Faculty of Fine Arts in Seville whose basements house the
Pantheon of Illustrious Sevillians. The local has much strength here (note 1 of
Table 1) and autobiographical thought of the artist passed the Sevillian academic path.
The information provided in
Table 1, which shows connections between key questions of
La Manada City and the artist, semantic fields, and particular cases (names) present in the map, reveals this artwork’s communicational solid dimension. Linguistically it is so impressive that the visual aspects will have to be analysed in another article. Among the semantic fields broken down in
Table 1, some of them show specific pedagogical intentions, as they are “connectors with reality” such as the terminology related to criminal acts (abduction, mistreatment, torture…) in group 5, those that direct us to the symptoms suffered by the victims (group 6) and, therefore, entering a field of subjectivity. In this sense, another level of subjectivity is established when the narrator/artist becomes—in a certain way—a “judge” of those guilty of violence, and terms loaded with negativity appear (group 4). This is not odd since, in the emotional terrain, the harassing groups usually manage the collective indignation against the workplace bullying target. This can be a response—the one elaborated by the target/artist—to that violence (
Saint Martin 2017).
More cryptic elements indeed appear on the surface of the map. However, we must consider that while this map was being elaborated to make the hidden violence visible, it also involved a risk for the author, hence, the decision to write the names of the streets and monuments in English rather than Spanish.
The pedagogical intention is also revealed through the terminology established from the patriarchal power (groups 1, 2, 3). It serves to detect these language traps, now insinuated creatively. Thus, as we said before, group 4 seems to be a response from outside the patriarchal power and group 10 addresses feminist terminology. In addition, some streets’ enormously sad and pessimistic aspects materialized in the full violence of death and its transition (group 9). It becomes more general looking at the planet’s future (group 8), including some notes on the recent pandemic. Finally, the Global Conscience Dump, the Arsonist of Mother Earth Avenue, or the Swamp of Extermination lead us to the author’s saddest and most generalizing thinking.
3.2. Literary Devices
Literary devices provide us with emotional effects with artistic qualities beyond the literalness of walls, pavers, and sidewalks. The metaphors are repeated in variations along the streets. The structures are all metaphors (the street of … implies an identification, as it is not “the street of cobblestones”). The literary devices are techniques for guidance in how to read the street guide and the painting. Due to their quality of connection, these literary devices lead us to a reading of the map beyond the stones or walls of the city of the violence.
These literary devices lead the reader into an artistic universe. Reality does not appear as it is, but we feel it (
Table 2).
Considering the examples on the map, the Metaphors of surreal resonances (group 1) lead us to spaces where each name could be a painting or poem title. Thanks to the repetition (group 2), in the Great Grand-Grand Principal, we are referred to the idea of inbreeding, of nepotism, an issue that appears in other areas of the map. However, the repetition of the roots of the two first nouns in the Feminist of Feminism Ghetto refers to the idea of authenticity. On the other hand, the irony of the Feminist of Patriarchy Park (
Figure 3) (in group 5) leads us to falsehood and betrayal by including two opposites.
The idioms and set phrases submerge the reader in a habitual thinking process. However, if modified, the sense of uncertainty, instability, and unease becomes more acute and is projected to the reader/viewer (group 3). The feeling of strangeness or veiled threat also happens in antitheses such as Mute Tongue Alley or Disbelief Auditorium.
The opposition in the connotations of the terms used (for example, in group 5) is also directed to understand that a said concept is contrary to what it seems. For instance, a Psychosocial Risk Service (
Figure 4a) is not going to protect us from the risks if this Service promotes them instead of preventing them, or we are not going to recover as patients in a center for tears if these tears are faked, pretended (
Figure 4b).
In Dystopian Present Street, we have to understand that Dystopia (as Utopia) is a vision of the future (
Figure 5a) but in this case, it becomes present. Alternatively, in a school, democratic principles are taught as an illusion (
Figure 5b).
This stylistic resource leads us to a greater sense of truth because it connects with the intelligence of the receptor, making him/her a participant of a secret (what is and does not seem to be, according to
Greimas and Courtés 1979). The semiotic square of veridiction shows the conflict between
being and
seeming. In Greimassian modalities, the secret
is but does not
seem to be, the falsehood
is not but
seems to be, and the truth
is and
seems to be; meanwhile, the lie
seems to be but is not (
Greimas and Courtés 1979). If we participate in a secret, we will feel the truth more intensively than the mere truth.
In this emotional accompaniment to the reader of the map, the personification (group 6) helps to transfer feelings because the streets are contaminated by human actions, such as a dock that can make decisions or a building that can erase slanders. The universe of sensibility accompanies the reading of this complex and forceful artwork. Anand’s seventh thesis comes true: “The image is not just the Visible, the Text is not just the Sayable” (
Anand 2016).
3.3. Around the Alliteration in Inma la Inmunda and Phonetic Devices
As we said above, Inma la Inmunda is a registered trademark used to work with traces of violence (anonymous threatening messages, remains of pill blisters packs, denigrating reports …) represented in a logo with a dung beetle that models the detritus on the ground into a perfect sphere (
Figure 6).
Inma la Inmunda has been the signature of several former works, such as the 2017 audio-installation
Invisibilization (
Rodríguez-Cunill 2021). The first record of actions under this artistic name dates from 2015, in the presentation of
Inma la Inmunda and the Esquizos (
Casa Grande del Pumarejo 2016). A second video recording (from 2016) is preserved on the occasion of the performance for the audio-installation
Noise for those who do not want to listen (
Rodríguez-Cunill 2017). The same year, a text about her opinions in the Murillo Year event is published (
La Inmunda 2017). The diffusion of Inma la Inmunda’s name grew due to the media effect of
Maculadas sin Remedio (
Ceballos Cuadrado 2018).
The idea of a beetle working on the soil, mumbling, and chewing the detritus in the darkness of the terrain is presented in the form of sounds in the installations named above. These Humm, MMMNN sounds, among the words of the interior monologue of the insect, coincide with the nasal consonants that form the name INMa la INMuNda
1.
La Manada and the Manadians also share the nasality of this alliteration (a literary device) that we have wanted to treat specifically due to its transcendence in the meaning of Inma la Inmunda’s universe. Remember that the works signed under the pseudonym Inma la Inmunda are precisely those that deal with the demon of violence in the artist’s life. However, other works that lack that dimension are signed under the name Inma la Magnánima (Inma the Magnanimous), with the opposite adjective to filth (
Cunill 2021). Even in this last case, the mumbling of nasal sounds persists.
Finally, it is necessary to emphasize that the continuous process of the humble dung beetle’s work in the dark is a metaphor for the same process of the artist, working anonymously, under a pseudonym, mainly in times of confinement and using a language on the map that is not her mother tongue to protect herself against possible attacks.
4. Discussion
The previous section explored the relationship between phonetic repetition and surrealistic elements. We often use the term “surreal” to describe our research findings, but it is essential to consider the broader implications. How does surrealism relate to La Manada City? Can we see it as an antithesis between form and content in the context of our overall work?
Additionally, to highlight the uniqueness and significance of this work in the context of human rights and violence prevention, we will compare it to other maps with similar characteristics in the following section. Finally, we will briefly focus on our main argument, comparing it to a contemporaneous and an earlier map.
4.1. Surrealism in La Manada City
It is crucial to thoroughly examine the relationship between La Manada City and Surrealism through an additional article. Nevertheless, it should be acknowledged that a concise summary can be given of the central concepts that establish this connection, specifically in the literary aspect of this artwork.
- 1.
There is no doubt that the titles of paintings created by surrealists, dadaists, post-surrealists, and others could easily be transformed into street names found in La Manada City’s guide. Without an exhaustive search, we can find echoes of surrealist painting titles in some of the locations on our map. For example, concerning Dalí’s work, this is the case between our “Memory Shrine” and The Persistence of Memory (1931), the “Great Grand-Grand Principal Terrace” and The Great Masturbator (1929), our “Boulevard of Antidepressants” and The Hallucinogenic Toreador (1970). Regarding Magritte, our “Traitor Silence Street” evokes similarities to his work The Treachery of Images (this is not a pipe) (1929).
Remedios Varo’s artworks bear titles that resemble familiar street names on our map. For instance, “Restlessness Street” brings to mind her piece Disturbing Presence (1959) and “Inefficiency Sellers Ride” is reminiscent of Useless Science or Alchemy (1958). Furthermore, titles such as Vegetarian Vampires (1962) or Vegetal Cathedral (1959) highlight the artist’s concern for life, which is also reflected in pieces like our “Botanical Garden of Plastic Plants” and “Global Conscience Dump.” Similarly, “Arsonist of Mother Earth Avenue” can be compared to her Embroidering the Earth’s Mantle (1961).
Analysing the examples through visual comparison could lead to valuable insights and comparisons across different artistic movements. However, to maintain a full scope of research, we need to set boundaries to ensure the content you are currently reading is well-defined and specific.
Let us take a final look at some examples from other artists. For instance, Leonora Carrington’s Woman Leaving the Psychoanalyst’s Office (1960) can be likened to our “Psychosocial Risk Promotion Service,” while our “Memory Shrine” shares a strong connection with her work, The Memory Tower (1995). As for Yves Tanguy, our “Slow Death Street” echoes the themes in his piece, Death Awaiting His Family (1927). Additionally, our “Ministry of Injuries-Old Royal Cinemathon” (which includes the word “matón” in the Spanish version meaning “killer”) is linked to Tanguy’s previous work, Mama, Papa is Wounded! (1927). Overall, it seems plausible to infer that the street names on the map of La Manada City align with the connotations found in titles of established works from surrealism, dadaism, and their predecessors and successors. While not exact replicas, the names of these streets often evoke a perspective of the world reflective of the introspection that underpinned these artistic movements.
- 2.
It is essential to recognize that the reality of Seville, which is somewhat transformed in
La Manada City, may seem surreal to those unfamiliar with it. For instance, the Argentine writer, painter, and poet Oliverio Girondo, known for his affiliation with Ultraism (
López-Cabrales 1995), wrote some poems that would be seen as surreal if read overseas but would be considered to express normality in Seville
2. Similarly, discussions have arisen about the reality that Magic Realism in literature is based on. Additionally, the Carnival of Cadiz showcases instances of surreal humor in the invented street names by Inma la Inmunda who was born in the city. The author’s Andalusian background also includes aspects of surreal literary creation, particularly evident in the Carnival of Cadiz. However, a more in depth article would be necessary to cover this topic entirely.
- 3.
From the literary point of view, many names for the streets retain echoes of Ramón Gómez de la Serna’s “Greguerías.” These short statements express humorous and philosophical ideas in a clever, witty, and unique way, similar to aphorisms, proverbs, and epigrams. According to Gómez de la Serna, “greguerías” convey strong and concise meanings through humor and metaphor. However, in the street guide of La Manada City, the phrases are mainly formed by nouns and lack verbs with actions. Some examples of “greguerías” written by Ramón Gómez de la Serna include “Opening an umbrella is like shooting into the rain,” “The broom waltzes in the morning,” “Putting your socks on inside out is like going backward instead of forwards,” and “8 is the hourglass of numbers”.
The connections between Oliverio Girondo and Ramón Gómez de la Serna become more evident if we examine Oliverio Girondo’s “Membretes”: “There comes a time when we aspire to write something worse,” “Faulkner’s parentheses are black prisons,” “Art is the worst enemy of art! … a fetish before which those who are not artists officiate on their knees”. However, in Oliverio Girondo’s “Membretes”, we find a radical difference: De la Serna combined humor and metaphor (greguería = humorism+metaphor), while Girondo does the same but intends to present, above all, a critical vision of art (humorism + criticism + metaphor = membrete) (
Noguerol 2017, p. 323). On the other hand, literary genres of short length have been a constant in the history of literature, from epigrams—defined by their “brevĭtas et argutĭa” (brevity and sharpness)—to the shortest micro-stories. The brevity of specific genres is significant in keeping up with current topics. For example, the popularity of haiku in the Western world, once unfamiliar 100 years ago or the use of slogans in advertising can be attributed to this. In today’s fast-paced world, where we are bombarded with excessive information, a short
TikTok video requires less attention than a feature-length film. This highlights the importance of literary works that can be fragmented and materialised in the streets, forming an encyclopedia of group violence. This is one of the many reasons why this work holds excellent value.
- 4.
In the Andalusian poetry tradition, a brand of sarcastic humor was further developed by Carlos Edmundo de Ory and the Postismo group (a shortened version of Post-Surrealism) during Franco’s dictatorship. De Ory’s work greatly influenced Inma la Inmunda, who hailed from the same city of Cadiz (
Figure 7). De Ory was a highly unconventional, avant-garde, heterodox, and dissenting writer of the latter half of the 20th century. His writing style was sharp and incisive, often relying on phonetic acrobatics and clever wordplay—traits also evident in the layout of
La Manada City’s streets.
It is possible that Inma la Inmunda’s early connection with poet Carlos Edmundo de Ory, through academic courses in their hometown of Cadiz
3, played a role in her discovery of literary resources found in the streets of
La Manada City. Additionally, one of these courses introduced her to the work of José Mª Hinojosa, a poet from Malaga who was previously overlooked despite his contributions to introducing surrealism to Spanish poetry. Hinojosa’s work has been illustrated by renowned painters, including Dalí, Benjamín Palencia, Francisco Bores, and Moreno Villa (perhaps because Hinojosa was a millionaire).
The Surrealist movement, popular among poets in Andalusia, had a lasting influence during the Franco dictatorship. One of its offshoots was Postism. “Postism, as a refreshing attitude, rejected the prevailing values of the bourgeoisie, both the triumphalist representations of the fascist regime and the programs of socialist realism that tried to combat the regime’s oppression and establish the political struggle. The position of the postists was the attitude of dissidence and non-collaboration with the political, social, and cultural system that established the temporal coordinates. For this reason, the bohemian proposal of the French symbolist poets, some impressionist painters, and the decadent and modernist artists who fully rejected the values of bourgeois life was revalued. In this sense, Postism maintains its convergences with the rebellious attitude of the poets of the American Beat Generation. Carlos Edmundo de Ory’s marginal proposal and his break with Spanish society, traced in his voluntary exile to France in 1955, coincides with the transgression of the American poets” (
Mesado Gimeno 2011, p. 410).
In its manifestos, Postism was defined as a surrealist, dadaist, and expressionist movement; moreover, it settled in marginality; the irruption of Postism meant the beginning of the postwar avant-garde poetry that would later metamorphose into “poetry of visual sign, which arises from the union of all artistic expressions as a total and collective fact and whose most outstanding representatives would be Isidoro Isou from lyricism, Decio Pignatari, Augusto de Campos, Oyvin Falhatröm, or Eugen Gomringer from concrete poetry, Pierre Garnier from Spatialism, Allan Kaprow, John Cage and the Fluxus group as precursors of happening and artistic interdisciplinarity, Joseph Kosuth from conceptual poetry and Martino Oberto from semiotic poetry…” (
Mesado Gimeno 2011, p. 409).
- 5.
Finally, as we said, perhaps Andalusian creation is sprinkled with surrealism but also with dreamlike elements that tend to a nightmarish aspect. There is no escape from the extensible (and tending to grow to infinity) city of
La Manada. Interestingly, like Tokyo and other Asian Megalopolis,
La Manada City is formed by linear segments and not by fixed geometric structures such as the circle or the reticule (
Rodríguez Cunill 2018).
La Manada City is a Labyrinth (indeed, it contains a sexual “G-string Labyrinth”) and at the same time an Aleph. It is a doomed city in the sense of the biblical cities around the Dead Sea, only in our case, no divine retaliation is expected or demanded. This terrible thing is underneath many flamenco songs. In its ultimate and terrible consequences in the most profound sense of violence,
La Manada City is also prophetic or apocalyptic, as it describes what could happen if we do not react or become immune to the degradation of human values and the absence of compassion. However, the insinuated or feigned art of
La Manada City underlies a pulse of hope, the hope of liberation from the darkness that surrounds us, for the very elaboration of the work has propitiated the psychological survival of the author, and the development of a communicational art that combats injustices, whether suffered personally, supposed, or encountered in our daily planetary reality.
4.2. The Protective Visual Antithesis
Seville is a city of baroque solid ecclesiastical heritage. The most representative temples of the city are highly golden, so the bright and dazzling appearance that Inma la Inmunda has given to
La Manada City is. However, the stylistic resource of the antithesis happens utterly because the attractive surface is entirely discordant with the horrible reality reflected in the names of the streets and buildings. Seville can be considered a model of this oppression because these bright and golden features were exported as a symbol of power and religious supremacy by the various Catholic orders in colonizing actions in Latin America (
Cabeza-Lainez and Almodovar-Melendo 2018) and Asia (
Cabeza-Lainez 2019).
In another vein, in the case of La Manada City, the literary devices sometimes play a protective role, even if the denunciation exists. The fear intrinsic to the creation of La Manada City leads its creator to clothe the city’s appearance of violence with beauty. In turn, the surface is an attractive lure to the reader–viewer, as his/her retina is caught by so much dazzling gold and other imitations of precious metals.
This consequence of our study leads us to conclude that among the possible continuations of research is the idea of subversion through brilliance, as opposed to the gold traditionally associated with power in the history of art.
On the other hand, maps are usually depicted on paper. This gives them manageability to be used to communicate places. Nevertheless, a map no one can locate has no apparent function. What we do believe is that this map does not communicate places but rather accuses through evidence and reflections. The very use of tablet blisters is an accusation, but their coating with lacquers to give tonal varieties to the gold, silver, and copper, hides the ugliness of the situations indicated with the layer of the visual lie. However, if we pay attention to the visual tour, this is revealed to us as the most authentic thing. On the map, in the form of a collage, we find the author’s family reliquaries, remains of coral extracted from the beach of her hometown, remains of sea urchins transformed into thorny foliage of a “Park of Feminists of the Patriarchy” (a name that invariably takes us to women’s betrayal against other women).
4.3. Comparisons to Other Artistic Maps from a Literary Perspective
Given the implications of the theme of hidden systemic violence, it seems pertinent to compare La Manada City with another map made almost simultaneously in Norway.
A year after the exhibition of the two first panels of
La Manada City, the activist Markus Moestue released his map of Oslo to the media (
Figure 8).
That map contravened the standard of tourist maps. It revealed the darkest and most shameful parts of Oslo. Moreover, Moestue hoped his map would inspire others to show the dark side of their cities (
Jackobs 2020). Indeed, Moestue confessed “Why make this map? In most countries, what we are taught about our own nation in school does not correspond much to reality. And Norway is no exception. We are made to believe in myths surrounding our own nation and are given a perfect mirage of excellence and good intentions in our history lessons. Stories of abuse, greed, and war are often swept under the carpet, and it seems that, by some twist of faith, we are born into the best country in the world, and that all other nations are beneath us. Is Norway really the most happy [sic] place, the most environmentally conscious, the most peace-loving, or the most ethical? Hardly! In this map, I aim to correct a few myths and point to some problematic aspects of Norway and Oslo. And I wish for this map to be a contrast to the mindless commercially motivated map you’ll receive at the tourist information center. The aim is to make this map available to tourists and others on line, but also on printed paper in tourist locations such as hostels or bars in Oslo. Do you own such a place in Oslo? Please get in touch if you want to offer your guests a free non-comerciall [sic] tourist map” (
Moestue 2021).
Although
La Manada City has similarities with Moestue’s work (criticism), it shows essential differences. Our map accentuates, together with criticism, an artistic and literary dimension that is not so present in Moestue’s case. Oslo’s map is essentially denotative and highlights the lie: the emblematic buildings look like one thing, but they are another (
remind Greimas and Courtés 1979). The ‘honorable’ spaces of the city are depicted as symbols of inequality, injustice, aggression against minorities, etc. For example, the monument to the national hero Tordenskiold is commented by emphasising that he was a colonial-era slaver; or the objectives of the Nobel Peace Centre are questioned by highlighting the falsehood of the myth of Norway as a peace-loving nation after having supported the bombing of Serbia, or the attack on Afghanistan by helping the United States.
The struggle for women’s rights is crucial in La Manada City, even beyond the local or personal levels. However, Moestue’s map only briefly touches on this issue. Creating a map and plan involves crafting a story about the territory, which can be seen as fiction. While logos and mythos have been opposed since ancient times, they are both integral parts of Western language and literature. Our analytical work is intertwined with literary elements such as naming spaces. In Moestue, the city’s spaces retain their original names, while La Manada City is an entirely fictional creation. Through research, we can discover that Seville serves as an emotional backdrop for experiences of violence suffered by the author or those in her activist community. These two parallel city planes represent the violence of mainstream society and reflect biased activist perspectives.
In addition, more substantial differences exist between La Manada City and Moestue’s map. The one reflects the artist’s experiences and emotions about Patriarchy and abuse, whereas Moestue’s work is not subjective but descriptive. La Manada City is autobiographical, whereas Moestue’s work is “a critical tourist map” with a historical approach. La Manada City is a tool for self-healing, whereas Moestue’s purpose is a collective recognition of a narrative of Oslo that differs from the mainstream views. In sum, although based on personal insights, Moestue’s map approaches the descriptive side of Oslo, whose population is comparable to Seville, where the character of Inma la Inmunda performs. In contrast, La Manada City is an imaginary urban agglomerate that could perhaps suggest Metropolis by Fritz Lang, Gotham, or even Sin City.
Unlike Moestue’s map, our research has indeed led to the establishment of thought processes on violence that are highly literary and artistic, both by examining the names painted on the map and by asking what questions they could answer. Firstly, this map makes violence visible in several ways: by asking who says what (who being the subject from which the ways are named and what the ways themselves), from where it is said, how it is shown linguistically at the denotative and connotative level and what relation to reality (autobiographical of the author, local, community or regional, planetary, or global) it is put into practice. Secondly, the map shows the effectiveness of the message: surprising the reader with word games and literary devices, insinuating more than explicitly showing, and making the receiver feel more intelligent than when simply reading a street map to orient himself in a city.
So far, we have evaluated our map in comparison to another based on temporal simultaneity. However, another tourist map of London from 1914 (
Figure 9) is geographically and temporally distant. With its artistically treated surface containing poems and verbal comments, this map lacks the cartographic accuracy found in other maps. Despite lacking critical analysis, this map has been a reference for other charming tourist maps featuring various cities, which can be easily found in souvenir stores. While exploring this question could enhance our study, it is essential to note that the two maps we compared to
La Manada City have a stronger relationship with their referent, serving as simple spatial guides. In contrast, Inma la Inmunda’s map has an emotional route rather than a spatial one. References to the city of Seville only appear through the literalization and location of harassment experiences documented on the map. This makes
La Manada City a transcendent work for understanding group violence, distancing it from the local level and bringing it closer to the universal. On the other hand, several maps of the city of Seville were created through sentimental, spiritual, or religious precepts, as the map of Seville made from Feng-Shui principles, as we studied in our previous research (
Rodríguez-Cunill et al. 2021).
5. Conclusions and Last Questions
Our goal was to highlight the literary aspect of the artwork La Manada City and promote it as a tool for survival and resistance against patriarchy and false ideologies that, despite claiming to oppose it, ultimately perpetuate inequality. We started ordering the names given to the places on the map, leading to further questions that could be explored. La Manada City is a complex work that acts as an encyclopedia of violence and should not be overlooked.
However, we have seen that only two of its eight pieces could be exhibited, highlighting institutions’ difficulty in confronting the inequalities and injustices depicted in this artwork. This article aims to bring attention to this work, which requires bravery to display, as power often shies away from confronting uncomfortable truths.
After analyzing semantic fields and literary devices, we have discovered connections between our map and Seville. We have also found the linguistic origin of many space names and their relationship with Inma la Inmunda’s hometown. Surrealistic linguistic elements were also present. In conclusion, we have specific questions that need to be addressed regarding our primary objective of highlighting La Manada City’s magnificent pictorial-literary work.
How is this work positioned within the context of Spanish feminism? Some time ago, we wondered whether feminist writing existed in Spain at the end of the twentieth century (
López-Cabrales 2014). The results at the time were contradictory. Spanish women writers were situated between an aversion to being labeled as ‘feminists’ (understood then as radical politics and even lesbianism) and feeling that, as women, they had accomplished quite a lot. However, facts such as the spread of sexual predators in the style of La Manada have proved to be revulsive, not only for the feminist movement but for the concrete creation of the street guide of
La Manada City. As we explained, La Manada referred to a well-known case of group violence against women committed by a group of men from Seville against a young woman during the San Fermines festivities in Pamplona. They called their WhatsApp group, where they posted their rape videos, La Manada. Eventually, it was found that the crimes committed in Pamplona had also occurred in other parts of Spain. Women’s reactions to this case, from feminist activism to artivism, have been numerous.
As a literary work, the street map of La Manada City is a poetic journey that sinks its feet in encyclopedic eagerness (very masculine) and surrealism (as a way to overcome the experience of harassment).
Intersected by the fact of being a woman, of not having been born where the harassment took place, for developing her artistic and professional work in a patriarchal environment, the work of Inma La Inmunda is a unique product that deserves more research (such as the meaning of gold in the artwork, not as a subsidy of power, but as a subversion, a practical alliance with other minorities on the planet who have within their reach shiny discarded objects that, although not composed of this precious metal, bring out a discourse of luxury in poverty, scarcity, and precariousness).
What are the future possibilities of this work in progress since it manifests a dynamic of concealment? We have rescued a work that is not exhibited in its entirety and that deals with such problematic issues for the environment where it was born that it has complicated exhibition possibilities. However, this does not prevent us from recognizing a completely new expression that reworks past issues and denounces and seeks beauty in an environment of violence. Certain correspondences with reality seem to be found on the map, but they are cryptically established as if the author was protecting herself. This is the same protective effect as the apotropaic elements, whose linguistic forms use stylistic devices such as periphrasis or puns to evade the danger from the outside. On the other hand, we suspect that specific names written on the map may hide agents of the gang of harassment, a question that, in some interviews, the author has insinuated with the case of the name Angels (Harassing Angels Chapel). Even on the visual level, there are portraits of possible stalkers that cannot be recognized (the fact of acknowledging them could be a menace to the artist) and other forms of human members that give us clues of a more than uncomfortable reality: this happens in the phallic Stained-Mouth Prick Memorial or those miniature blurred portraits of the Feminists of Patriarchy Park label (
Figure 3).
What are the future possibilities of this work in progress since it manifests an outward dynamic?
Each of the spaces on this map may contain the germ of more works (the titles of the streets and other points hint at the possibility of new creations in the manner of an analogical hypertext). We are convinced that La Manada City is a model of maximalist principles applied to painting. The artist has repeatedly demonstrated against the authoritarianism “of Ikea” of minimalism with nothing to say. In addition, Inma la Inmunda has a lot to tell. Some too many aspects and nuances emerge from the experiences of group violence maintained over time. On the other hand, as we have seen, the map and the street map have an encyclopaedic ambition, so it is still a work in progress.
Author Contributions
Conceptualization, I.R.-C.; methodology, I.R.-C. and J.C.-L.; software, I.R.-C. and J.C.-L.; formal analysis, I.R.-C. and M.d.M.L.-C.; investigation, I.R.-C. and M.d.M.L.-C.; resources, I.R.-C.; writing—original draft preparation, I.R.-C.; writing—review and editing, I.R.-C., J.C.-L. and. M.d.M.L.-C.; visualization, I.R.-C.; supervision, I.R.-C. and M.d.M.L.-C.; project administration, I.R.-C.; funding acquisition, I.R.-C. All authors have read and agreed to the published version of the manuscript.
Funding
This research was funded by EU, NextGenerationEU, through Ministerio de Universidades and University of Seville, grant number 19994.
![Arts 12 00115 i001]()
Data Availability Statement
Not applicable.
Acknowledgments
Our heart goes out to the late artist Eva Guil Walls (a Dadaist pioneer in Seville whose artistic trajectory was hidden while new generations of Andalusian artists put her findings into practice); Eva Guil Walls accompanied the realization of the first two pieces of La Manada City and played a fundamental role in the group exhibition Maculadas sin Remedio. Authors appreciate the wisdom and experience of Aitor Lanjarin-Encina and the Department of Art and Art History of the Colorado State University, the help and generosity of Jonathan Carlyon, Chair of the Department of Languages, Literatures and Cultures of the Colorado State University, the open-mindedness and efficacy of Erin Tomkins (International Student and Scholar Services of CSU), and Gretchen Zarle-Lightfoot (assistant to the editor of Confluencia, Revista Hispánica de Cultura y Literatura). Moreover, we would like to highlight the extraordinary assistance of the International Women’s Club of Fort Collins International Center, especially from Sara Hunt. We cannot forget the expertise and kindness of Karen Smith (English teacher at Fort Collins International Center) and our deep love for the outstanding ELS instructor Andrea Heyman. In addition, we thank the careful and generous work of the Front Range Community College staff in Fort Collins.
Conflicts of Interest
The authors declare no conflict of interest.
Notes
1 | The literary technique of alliteration is frequently employed in surrealism and dadaism. However, it is worth noting that postist poet Carlos Edmundo de Ory also heavily utilizes this technique. Inma la Inmunda, who knew de Ory in person, drew inspiration from his phonetic games and incorporated them into her artistic creations. Unfortunately, the phonetic qualities of de Ory’s poem “Fonemoramas” cannot be fully conveyed in an English translation. The Spanish title alone underscores its phonetic significance: “Si canto soy un cantueso/Si leo soy un león/Si emano soy una mano/Si amo soy un amasijo/Si lucho soy un serrucho/Si como soy como soy soy/Si rio soy un río de risa/Si duermo enfermo de dormir/Si fumo me fumo hasta el humo/Si hablo me escucha el diablo/Si miento me invento una verdad/Si me hundo me Carlos Edmundo.” (“If I sing, I am a cantueso/If I read, I am a lion/If I emanate, I am a hand/If I love, I am a tangle/If I fight, I am a saw/If I eat, I am what I eat/If I laugh, I am a river of laughter/If I sleep, I am sick of sleeping/If I smoke, I smoke until the smoke/If I speak, the devil listens/If I lie, I invent a truth/If I sink, I am Carlos Edmundo”). |
2 | Girondo’s poem entitled “Sevillano” shows this reality of rites that may seem surreal if you are not familiar with the city of Seville. “Sevillano”/In the atrium: a veritable gathering of blind men, even with a badge, a pack of children, barking for a bitch/ The church is refrigerated so that the votive offerings of eyes and arms do not melt …/Beneath their stiff mantles, virgins raise ruby tears. Some have ponytail hair. Others wear their hearts like a cushion of pins/A cowbell of keys permeates the gloom with a heavy sacristy odor. An ancestral orangutan revives in an old woman when she crosses her forehead./And meanwhile, in front of the high altar, the women’s genitals liquefy contemplating a crucifix that bleeds from its sixty-six ribs, and the priest chews a prayer as if it were a “chewing gum.” Translated into English by Cabeza-Lainez. Available in Spanish at: https://www.poeticous.com/girondo/sevillano?locale=es, accessed on 30 May 2023. |
3 | One was the conference “Once upon a time … POSTISM”, held in San Roque (Cádiz), from 15 to 17 July 1987. |
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