to teach is to share a living practice
teach
to pierce identity, to sharpen sensitivity, to cultivate the body.
craft of space/time. craft of the traveler of emotions.
craft of live communication. craft of the hollow, when all is said and done.
everything I know, I teach. and only when I teach it do I understand that I know it.
The work is organized into three lines that share one root: the search for an essential, honest presence, born from deep listening to the body and the world.
ni.butoh
a vision of butoh developed since 2008. 12 workshops across 4 paths.
EMPTINESS · PARADOX · OTHERITY · IMPOSSIBLEThree principles that guide how I teach, regardless of the line or the format.
wild respect
deep, true and sometimes against all reason
wild respect
It is deep and true, and it can go against your reason. Wild respect is alive and cannot be fixed in written laws. It is not repeatable: what was an act of wild respect in one moment may not be one in the next.
intuitive trust
navigating the immensity with neither compass nor lighthouse
intuitive trust
We navigate unknown territory. Without aesthetics or canon, without rhythm or reason. In the vast immensity of nothingness there are no references, no lighthouses to guide. We need to trust — not in thoughts nor in the senses, but in the gathering of a whole life into what we call intuition.
the right challenge
training the body so that the dance happens on its own
the right challenge
We train to reach that moment when the body reacts on its own to impulses before the dancer realizes what is happening. I call it survival mode: similar to what happens in the face of great danger. We train for that danger, adjusting the challenge to each moment and each body, so that it is ready when the loss of identity arrives and the dance can happen.
no hay talleres programados en este momento.
I fell into teaching. it wasn’t a decision, it was a consequence. I’d spent years learning and one day someone asked if I gave classes. it terrified me.
The first workshop I gave was with people aged 17 to 63. A workshop where I had no idea what I was doing, and neither did they. And in that shared not-knowing something real happened.
Since then I haven’t stopped. the terror has never fully disappeared. but alongside it lives something more powerful: the pleasure of another person finding in their body something they didn’t know was there.
Everything I know, I teach. and only when I teach it do I understand that I know it.