Armani Colón in “Soy más que un…” Photo courtesy of Gabriel Mata.
Gabriel Mata is one of my favorite DC-based choreographers. He deploys movement in sophisticated structures without falling into oblique or self-involved and inaccessible formulae. He has a unique way of centering dance as a fundamental condition of the human experience. “Amor, Dolor y Sabor,” a program in collaboration with Armani Colón, Angel Ramirez, Manuel R Cuellar, and guest artists Adrian Gaston Garcia and Lady J, was no exception.
Gabriel Mata…deploys movement in sophisticated structures…a unique way of centering dance as a fundamental condition of the human experience.
Mata and Colón began the program with “Cuerpo de quién,” a duet which raveled the movement of queer bodies in a space dominated by heterosexual ideals. Disassembled mannequin pieces littered the stage as doors to Dance Loft’s Studio Theater opened. With arms and legs and heads removed and scattered on the floor, the mannequin torsos felt like ancient Greek sculptures in a museum. Their unclothed plastic whiteness was an illusion of neutrality that simultaneously indexed the way those bodies were the product of a capitalist mold—void of identity until dressed in one that is for sale. Mata and Colón began crawling on the floor between the disarticulated plastic bodies, slowly assembling them, clinging to them before falling to the floor as limbs and heads clattered onto the stage. “Cuerpo de quién” also showcased fabulous partnering work between Mata and Colón. With both dancers in white sleeveless tops and white briefs, Colón suspended in agonizingly long extended lines off Mata’s shoulder before falling silently to the floor.
The two solos which followed, Ramirez’s “Niño joto” and Colón’s “Soy más que un…,” were similar in structure, and, to some degree, in movement vocabulary, but told very different stories. Both works began with the dancers dressed in costume that read as traditionally masculine before the dancers disrobed, either revealing or changing into more traditionally feminine clothing—a dazzling, sequined black dress for Ramirez and a low-cut, red velvet leotard for Colón. Both solos then went into driving, athletic, technical, and sexually-charged phrases that felt fresh from the club, but mixed with modern dance vocabulary. Under the low blue light, Ramirez’s dress threw a shimmering flurry of reflected light against the cyc as he flew through huge jumps and smooth spins on the floor. Colóns’s red leotard almost vanished under aggressively saturated red light, leaving a furious barrage of hips and high legs. The solos closed staging different relationships to the audience. Ramirez began playing his dancing to a phone recording from a small tripod, posing, flaunting, and finally writhing on the floor as the lights faded out. Colón did another wardrobe change, stripping down to nothing but a pair of nude shorts. After recapitulating phrases of movement from earlier in the solo, he slowly gathered the clothes piled around the stage and walked slowly towards the audience offering us the heap of garments.
The first act closed with “Todavía estoy aquí,” performed and choreographed by Mata and Ramirez. It was less of a finished choreographic presentation than the other works on the first half, and more the coalescence of an ongoing creative process in the context of a moment. Under low blue lights, Mata and Ramirez laid out a square of blue tape on the floor. While Mata slowly paced inside, Ramirez unfolded a sheet of paper and began to read. “Todavía estoy aquí” was a duet blending material from “Con Gabriel” and “Con Angel,” two solos responding to hate mongering against immigrants by the current administration and the exercise of state-sponsored force and fear against their communities. Ramirez told the story of how he and Mata were supposed to perform the work at a dance festival in Texas earlier in the year, but following a string of deportations there, he decided it was too dangerous to perform. Mata traveled to Texas and, with Ramirez dancing on video in DC, the two performed the work over 1,000 miles apart. The other works on the first half of the program all brought a thesis, or at least put new questions to their subject material. “Todavía estoy aquí” was simply the statement of horrible fact: “the deportations continue and we don’t know what to do.”
The second half of the program was a single work, “Bailando con él,” created and performed by Mata and Cuellar. Cuellar is also a professor of Latin American and Latinx Studies at The George Washington University and a recurring collaborator of Mata’s. This piece was a free-ranging, joyful, but introspective journey through both men’s lived experience and the way dance has shaped their understanding of the world and themselves. It also included guest performances from poet, Adrian Gaston Garcia, and local drag queen, Lady J. “Bailando con él” also featured several video montages of Cuellar dancing with friends and family and speaking at length in Spanish (with subtitles) about how he understands dance not just as an activity or a performing art, but as a way of being in the world.
Over the last several years I have had the good fortune to watch Mata grow as a choreographer and bring out the best in his collaborators. I interviewed him for this publication in 2023, and have reviewed his work a few times since then. Colón and Ramirez are both fierce dancers and charismatic performers who I had not seen before, but I am looking forward to more of their work. In addition to beautiful partnering work in the opening duet with Colón, Mata and Cuellar’s dancing in “Bailando con él” was a highlight. In the first section of “Bailando con él,” “Vaqueeros” a knotted red scarf was yanked from the chest of Mata’s shirt by Cuellar. Ten feet of material unfurled, leaving the other end tied to his chest. Later, Cuellar yanked Mata by the scarf from one side of the stage to the other, almost lifting him off the floor before he flew into Cuellar’s arms. It was a particular quality of movement and emotion— aggressive, passionate, and with grounded power—that you could physically feel in the small studio theater. A lot of the work I had seen Mata do before Friday night was solo work or choreography dancing with other performers, but not necessarily partnering them. After “Amor, Dolor y Sabor,” I’m looking forward to what he comes up with next.
Running Time: Approximately hours with one 15-minute intermission.
“Amor, Dolor y Sabor” ran May 17-18, 2025 at Dance Loft on 14, 4618 14th St NW, Washington, DC 20011. More information about Gabriel Mata and the Latinx Movement Festival is available on his website. For more information and tickets for upcoming events at the Dance Loft on 14, please go online.
