After that, everything changed. Every sunbeam being lovely yelled by Jaime Diaz. That artistic father that saw me sweat dreams full of the drive that later on would take me as far as the Andes’ range that stalk the impeccable wind of the North. The playful mix of Tchaikovsky and Afro-Colombian drums. The inimitable amalgam of Lucho Bermudez and Prokofiev. The en-ravishing trance of Stravinsky's Le Sacre du Printemps with the eminent amiability of La Guaneña.

All within me and around was dance...and then came the outsiders. Those geniuses that were across that vast lake of the Atlantic. Those painters of ethereal limbs, sculptors of unearthly cores, and buoyant spirits. Those poets of unfathomable forms that captivated the beats of my void art. That Kyllian, that Ek, that Duato... Like a Holy Trinity, I praised to their legacy because it is quite divine. It is sublime. As my artistic mother Iliana says,  “It is the representation of ‘dreaming with your feet’.”

It has been five years since I have arrived in this mecca, in this apple that everyone wants to have a bite of. I don’t want just a bite. My mission is to make a pie of New York and feed the ones who are willing to look up at the sky and touch the stars with a blink.

Welcome to my core... you are my most important guest today.


(Click here for bio and resume)

Born and raised in Chia, a small town that preserves the birth of the moon as a goddess praised by the Chibchas, an indigenous tribe in the pre-Columbian era. A sacred culture later on vanished by the Spaniard hand, and was within the central area of that delightful paradise of yellows, blues and reds known as Colombia. Where dance it is not a lifestyle, but an extension beyond the five senses. Where rhythm is a journey that starts in the womb. Salsa, Merengue, Vallenato, Cumbia, Mapale, Currulao, Pasillo, Torbellino, Guabina, Sanjuanero were my best allies until I met that alien named Ballet. It all began by accident. Eighteen years old to be more exact and it was love at first plié...