The Museo Reina Sofía and MACBA are launching Entes, the most ambitious retrospective of Aurèlia Muñoz (1926–2011) to mark her centennial. Opening April 29, 2026, in Madrid, the exhibition showcases 150+ works, redefining 20th-century textile sculpture through gender-fluid, interspecies figures known as “entes.”
Let’s be clear: this isn’t just another museum anniversary. In an era where our cultural consumption is almost entirely mediated by screens and AI-generated imagery, the return to the visceral, the knotted and the woven is a political act. Aurèlia Muñoz didn’t just “sew”; she engineered a new language for sculpture, dragging textile art out of the “domestic craft” ghetto and into the high-ceilinged halls of institutional power.
For those of us tracking the “Tactile Turn” in the global art market, Entes arrives at a critical moment. We are seeing a massive resurgence in interest for fiber arts—think of the skyrocketing auction prices for Sheila Hicks or the immersive installations of Magdalena Abakanowicz. By centering Muñoz now, the Reina Sofía isn’t just paying a debt to a Spanish master; they are positioning themselves at the forefront of the “slow art” movement.
The Bottom Line
- The Scale: A massive retrospective featuring 150+ pieces, including previously unseen drawings and monumental works like Palmera (1974).
- The Philosophy: Focuses on “Entes”—non-binary, interspecies figures that challenge the human/animal and male/female binaries.
- The Tour: Debuts at Museo Reina Sofía (Madrid) from April 29 to September 7, 2026, before moving to MACBA (Barcelona) on November 5.
The Architecture of Thread: From Walls to Entities
For decades, textile art was sidelined as “women’s work”—decorative, flat, and secondary. Muñoz spent her career smashing that ceiling. She started with embroidery in the sixties, but she wasn’t just decorating fabric; she was reinventing painting. But here is the kicker: she didn’t stop at the surface.
By the seventies, Muñoz pushed her macramé off the walls. She gave the thread volume, weight, and breath. These works became “Entes”—beings. When you stand in front of a monumental piece like Homenage a Jerónimo Bosco, you aren’t looking at a tapestry; you’re facing a presence. These sculptures occupy the room with a physical gravity that challenges the traditional dominance of bronze and marble.
But the math of her creativity evolved. In the eighties, she pivoted toward lightness. Inspired by Leonardo da Vinci and the precision of origami, she created the Pájaros-cometa (Kite-Birds). These were aerostatic structures that played with the very concept of spatial thinking. It was a transition from the earthy weight of jute and sisal to the ethereal quality of paper pulp and linen, proving that her curiosity was as fluid as the materials she mastered.
“The resurgence of fiber art in the 2020s is a direct reaction to digital saturation. We are craving the ‘haptic’—the physical evidence of human touch and labor. Aurèlia Muñoz anticipated this need fifty years ago by treating thread as a structural, architectural element rather than a decorative one.”
Deconstructing the Binary in the 2026 Zeitgeist
If you look at the curation of Entes, it’s obvious that the Museo Reina Sofía is leaning into the contemporary conversation. The exhibition highlights Muñoz’s “cosmology,” populated by figures that defy gender and species. In 2026, this isn’t just an art history note; it’s a mirror to our current cultural landscape.
We are living through a total reconfiguration of identity. From the rise of non-binary visibility to the “post-humanist” movement in philosophy, the idea of the “inter-species” space is everywhere. Muñoz was exploring this in the 70s and 80s, creating characters that exist in the liminal space between human and animal. She wasn’t following a trend; she was forecasting the future of human identity.
This intellectual depth is why the show has attracted support from heavyweights like MoMA and the Museo Reina Sofía. It transforms the exhibition from a retrospective into a living dialogue about the environment and existence. When she creates an anemone or a jellyfish out of paper pulp in a metacrilate urn, she isn’t just mimicking nature—she’s questioning our place within it.
The Institutional Power Play and Market Impact
From a business perspective, the collaboration between the Reina Sofía and MACBA is a strategic masterstroke. By splitting the exhibition between Madrid and Barcelona, they are maximizing foot traffic and ensuring that Muñoz’s legacy is cemented in both of Spain’s primary cultural hubs. But there is a deeper layer to this: the valuation of the estate.
Retrospectives of this magnitude typically trigger a “valuation spike” for the artist’s remaining works in private collections. With over 150 works on display—many of which are inéditos (previously unseen)—the market is being introduced to a wealth of new material. This creates a scarcity premium for the pieces that remain in private hands.
The inclusion of archives—letters, sketches, and project notebooks—further legitimizes Muñoz not just as a creator, but as a systematic intellectual. This is the same strategy used by Bloomberg Arts analysts to explain the longevity of “blue-chip” artists: you don’t just sell the object; you sell the process and the philosophy.
| Creative Period | Primary Materials | Key Concept/Series | Spatial Orientation |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1960s | Cotton, Thread | Reinvented Embroidery | 2D / Wall-based |
| 1970s | Jute, Sisal | Macramé “Entes” | 3D / Floor-standing |
| 1980s | Linen, Paper Pulp | Pájaros-cometa / Aerostats | Aerial / Mobile |
| Late Career | Paper Pulp, Metacrilate | Marine Elements / Books | Contained / Vitrine |
As we move toward the November opening at MACBA, the industry is watching to notice how the “textile as sculpture” narrative will influence the next wave of installation art. We’ve already seen this ripple effect in the fashion world, where Variety has noted the blurring lines between couture and gallery art.
Entes is a reminder that the most avant-garde thing you can do in a high-tech world is to pick up a piece of string and tie a knot. It’s tactile, it’s stubborn, and it’s undeniably human.
Are we finally moving past the “craft” stigma, or is the art world just rebranding it for the AI age? Let me know your thoughts in the comments—I want to know if you think textile art belongs in the same conversation as monumental sculpture.
