Dance Diaries

Three people asked me this week why I was going to Granada. One asked politely. One asked as if I’d […]

I nearly went home before anything even started. The whole thing began because a guitarist in Cádiz mentioned a peña

The first serious flamenco teacher I ever had watched me for about three minutes. Then she said, very calmly, “Stop.”

There’s a moment that happens in flamenco that people who’ve only watched it on holiday rarely notice. It isn’t the

I didn’t even fall in some dramatic way, nothing worth retelling in the studio. Just pavement cracked like old skin

After the madness of the Barcelona event, I promised myself a few quiet days. So naturally, I ended up hopping

Sometimes I forget how close Valencia really is until I hop on the train and roll into the city like