Of all the forms that exist for naming, none proves as elusive as the one that attempts to capture everything that was not said. Feminine dramaturgy represents in itself the architecture of intuition: that knowledge that is not learned, that is not taught, that simply is. It is the sudden clarity of someone who enters a room without knocking.

Nieves González in Sacred hair / Capelli sacri has the urgency to bring to light everything we know but are unable to openly address, refusing to let time reveal the truth. She rejects the historical patience that promises future revelations and pulls her hair back, knowing that this way she will see better.

It is that gesture, everyday and sincere, that draws us toward this altarpiece where the imaginary, the marvelous, and myth converge to speak of Mary Magdalene. Because hair has never been ornament. It is sacred archive, energy made matter, the physical extension of thoughts. The hermeneutics that women carry in their own bodies as a symbol of connection with the divine.

Mary Magdalene moves among symbols that surround her like mist: the Grail she carries or that she is, the cave where she dwells thirty years nourishing herself only on grace, the blood spilled at the foot of the cross that she gathers when others look away. Her figure in history appears blurred, deliberately erased, yet she is felt as a halo of light that crosses the centuries. Each symbol is another layer of that knowledge that admits no explanation: the chalice that contains, the darkness that illuminates, the wound that heals.

Nieves González constructs a space where the sacred passes through a contemporary vision without ceasing to be mystery. Aesthetically precise, internally reflective. Hair—braided, woven, infinite—creates structures simultaneously rigorous and organic, like Gothic stained glass that transformed darkness into light.

Hildegard von Bingen wrote about "death in life": dying to what was in order to be reborn into what will be. Mary Magdalene embodies this in the cave of Sainte-Baume, where medieval tradition converts her into the great contemplative, guardian of mystery. There she dies to the world to live in the divine, dies to the name to become symbol, dies to the narrative so that truth may emerge. In the cave she lives a profound mystical transformation. Her association with the Grail arises from seeing her as vessel of love, blood, and knowledge. Nieves González understands that this vessel was never metaphor: the feminine and its wisdom is the Grail.

Sacred hair / Capelli sacri acts as a contemporary cave where mystical transformation becomes catharsis through the aesthetic. Nieves González weaves with human hair what medieval manuscripts wove with gold: a narrative that insists the sacred feminine was never lost, only hidden. And by exposing it, she gives us the tools to trace a new code in which, finally, the word returns to our hands. Not the word they gave us to name ourselves, the one that was always ours: the one Mary Magdalene kept in the cave, the one Hildegard wrote in her visions, the one every woman has woven in her own body through the centuries. The word that now comes to light: I was always here. I always knew. Now, finally, I speak.

(Text by Victoria Rivers. Curator and writer)