How choreographer Gabriel Mata uses dance to tell his story
(photo by Bill Cameron)
Gabriel Mata first began dancing in high school at a time when he was awakening to his queer identity and learning more about his undocumented status. The D.C.-based professional dance choreographer says that discipline taught him to have a voice when he felt like he didn’t legally have one. Now a permanent resident, he says it was through dance that he learned to tell the stories of Latinx and undocumented migrant communities.
Born in Guerrero, Mexico and raised in Southern California, Mata has lived in D.C. for six years. During this time, he has frequently received praise and awards for his work, including recognition from the D.C. Commission for the Arts and Humanities. He is currently an Inaugural Artist Fellow at the Atlas Performing Arts Lab in Northeast D.C. and welcomes opportunities to present and collaborate with other local artists.
Aside from years of dance, he is a filmmaker, performer and adjunct professor at the University of Maryland and American University. Mata teaches a variety of dances, such as improvisation, contemporary ballet, ballet and jazz for musical theater.
One of his most empowering moments as a performer came in 2017 at the Minnesota Fringe Festival, where he performed his piece, “Out of the Shadows,” to sold-out audiences. Since then, he’s performed in several places around the country. Through dance, Mata found the best way to project his persona and most importantly, his voice.
We spoke with Mata about his upbringing and how he overcame certain life challenges.
What inspires you to dance?
What inspires me to dance is my reaction to it. In the beginning, [there were] policies and laws that governed my body and how I lived as an undocumented immigrant in an underserved community, but they couldn’t control how my body moved or expressed itself. I found a lot of curiosity in knowing that I had that agency. Living on stolen land, where I’m not offered the same opportunities as those who are born in the United States, I began to think of dancing as more than something fun. It was a form of protest and a way to understand myself in my body. This continues to inspire me to create work and push [back] the barrier for highlighting the kinds of moving we can do. As someone who’s Mexican, I know a lot of dancing is seen more in a social setting, but it can be done in theater settings as well. We can be in spaces like The Kennedy Center performing our own identity and culture.
How do your performances resemble your life?
I create what is specifically called motion memoirs. It is a performance that focuses on movement and the developed narratives of marginalized communities, as well as the ways in which we haven’t been acknowledged.
I perform because I have lived. I perform because I see a future with my body, and I have questions about how I’m going to navigate certain things.
For example, my next piece will question citizenship, as I believe I will be applying for citizenship in about two or three years. The prompt asks what kind of citizen I want to be. Do I want to be the kind of citizen who is just trying to assimilate to the American dream? Or am I now able to claim power and challenge the idea of citizenship in a way that also demands I am attuned to the various policies and laws that have undervalued and harmed our communities?
Performance is both my life and space for me to collaborate through conversations with other people and my cultures.
How has your process evolved over time?
Any piece that I create, or any class that I develop, naturally unfolds. I am actively challenging myself by trying to be attuned to the space, the students or the audience. I’m also trying to recognize how we engage the sociopolitical climate in order to be mindful of how we want to progress socially. I always try to be like a sponge when it comes to understanding the language I use, the way I use my body, and my relationship to other bodies in the space that we share.
For me, it’s a constant act of attention. Asking questions is the best way for me to be as open as possible. It is a case-by-case situation. I’m just recognizing how I really try to be aware and present. I don’t feel like I have had the same experience twice. That’s good because it keeps me on my toes.
Is there a specific thought, concept or idea introduced in a work that makes you think on a higher level?
I’m the first in my family to graduate from high school, the first to go to an undergraduate program and get a master’s degree. All of that has opened my mind in ways that the rest of my family weren’t allowed.
I’ve been able to push myself beyond my limits because they always tell me, “You can accomplish so much. You just have to work hard.” [It’s] the privilege and the knowledge that comes from a graduate degree program, specifically in dance, that makes me so attuned to sensibilities that aren’t necessarily just about creating dances or knowing how to dance.
It is about how we come together as a community or how we try to create bridges for others to connect. [It’s] also [about] how we think about the body, what moving means and how we can challenge and undo social notions through moving bodies.
That’s how art can be radical: with this knowledge, we create these performances to allow the audience to experience an event that tries to push beyond their comfort levels and the assumed ideas of dance. I use elements of surprise in choreography to encourage audience members to wake up.
Give me an example from one of your past performances in which you use the element of surprise to ruminate on these big issues that we face in society.
My first hour-long solo is called “Out of the Shadows.” When you walk into the theater, you see the stage, and the performance starts with an announcement saying, “The performance of ‘Out of the Shadows’ by Gabriel Mata has been canceled. Instead, he will be performing another piece by so and so.” This would make the audience start thinking differently. Then I begin to perform. They’d see a body dancing, but then the body stops, goes towards the audience and says, “I’m sorry, I forgot the steps. I have been practicing for this really hard, but I’m putting a lot of pressure on myself right now, and I don’t know what to do right now.”
I use that and the title “Out of the Shadows” to uncover a lot of things: the angst, the nerves, the small stumbles where I mess up the dance. This is all part of the act. Once the audience catches up, they start understanding the errors of the performance on a more critical level.
It’s one of the first instances where I shared that I am an undocumented immigrant, with all of this pent-up angst. I could only hold on to it for so long. It felt like a confession to share a part of my identity with others. “Out of the Shadows” connected the performance anxiety and stress that comes from being a dancer and wanting to please everyone. It also related how the body dancing so freely is actually a body that’s done so much because — at that moment — I was an undocumented immigrant.
When and where did this performance happen? How did you feel before and after?
I got an opportunity to be a part of the Minnesota Fringe Festival in 2017. They offered me a production team, venue and five performance slots. I had been in Minnesota for about six months. I was there working for a dance company, but I also created my own work on the side.
I didn’t know [it at the time, but] there’s a community built around the Minnesota Fringe. Once one person saw my performance, they would talk to another person, and it would spread like wildfire. I had a good turnout for the first performance. The second one was about three-quarters full. Then I sold out the last three performances.
I got a really wonderful review from the StarTribune, the main newspaper in the Minneapolis–Saint Paul area. There were a lot of great responses from people. They would just come up to me and say, “We’re here for you, whatever you need. We don’t know what you need, but we’re here for you.” It’s a community family that supports you, and that really resonated with me.
In the end, it wasn’t about the performance but the reaction and support that came from this audience that I had no prior connection to. Some of them have grown to be wonderful friends.
When it comes to social activism, who has inspired you the most?
I’m inspired by the communities I grew up in. I recognize there are others who are still working hard and have so many more challenges. But [they] haven’t had the privilege that I’ve had to live my life in an art form that brings me joy. I know that my life could have gone so many ways. I don’t need anyone to tell me to continue to do the best I can for others because while my story wasn’t easy, I recognize that others have it much worse.
(photo by Ryan Uy)
What does it mean for you to be an artist that represents the queer Latinx community?
There’s this idea of the “model minority” that states if you’re one of the few, you must excel. I had that on my back for so many years, but I’ve done away with it since it wasn’t the healthiest mindset. But as someone who is an artist — who’s also queer and Latinx — I’m out there with the best intentions, trying to make the spaces and the performances [that] share stories we didn’t hear growing up. I can try to tell a story [in] about 50 ways. It might connect to a certain set of people. Every story can be connected by a certain group of people. There will always be someone who learns something from [it] and connects to it. I’m just not setting these metrics or these quantitative systems to think, “Oh, yes, I have done it now.”
It’s all in the attempt and in who else comes around the table. I don’t want to feel pressured to succeed, but my intentions are good. I already hold myself to high standards. I don’t want to feel like I’m here representing queer Latinx when being queer and being Latinx can look like a million different ways. I’m here sharing my own perspective as well as the questions that I can’t answer. That is what a queer Latinx artist means to me: it is one volume of a million volumes.
Visit Gabriel’s website for videos of his dance works, upcoming performances and more.
*This story has been lightly edited for clarity and concision.
– Interview by Cristela Bonilla and Christine MacDonald
– Story by Cristela Bonilla
– Edited by Michelle Benitez, Amelia Woolley-Larrea and Jordan Luz
1 Response
Recent Stories
Brillante historia! Gracias por compartir