I was born in Madrid, 1982. That day, while my parents were going to the hospital, the Pope was arriving to the city and my father always remembers that the streets were full of white little papers. They called me Jesús. I grew up in a neighbourhood called City of Poets, a place in the suburbs of Madrid that had nice views to the mountains. In the mornings I went to the school and I practiced figure skating in the evenings. It was like flying. I quitted it and everything lost sense until dance arrived. Ballet allowed me to experience an otherwise forbidden corporality and that is how it finally got me. It gave me a lot of freedom in some aspects and bound me in many others. Contemporary dance came after but those animal-like and acrobatic physicalities of the old Madrilenian times classes never managed to gain me.

I studied Physical Theatre at the Royal School of Dramatic Art (Madrid) to finally discover that I didn’t want to be an actor or a mime. I also went to college to study Spanish Language and Literature. I read with pleasure some of the great Spanish authors but I quitted it and decided to move to London, the marketing strategies of the schools there conquered me. One day I received an e-mail from the Spanish Agency for International Cooperation (AECID): They were going to fund my studies in the British capital. I spent three years at London Contemporary Dance School (The Place) and I never had to work as a waiter. I discovered Release and Cunningham techniques; also contact-improvisation and choreology. I had a hard time. At the end of my first year I created a solo: I tried to get myself inside a box while I sang, shouting, “Soy feliz” (I am happy). As a result, I was offered a place to enrol in the MA in Choreography program. There were a lot of people who generously collaborated with me, giving their work and talent to my projects: Alberto, Alicia, Aurea, Jorge, Maitó, Maureen, Mike, Noemí, Sofía, etc.

With them, I created works such as Medea.Triptych (also with boxes) or Stabat Mater. I started to try to find myself in myths. When I finished, I had some jobs in London (I made a piece for EDge, The Place postgraduate dance company, and another two for the Roehampton University touring group). Everything was going all right. I wanted to do a PhD on literary notation for dance because my Spanish grant was over. If I continued studying, I could have another one but I did not get it. The council flat I was sharing with another five people was demolished because the east of London was getting ready for the 2012 Olympics. I got a scholarship in a Madrilenian theatre (Cuarta Pared) and some classes to teach at a dance school (Estudio Carmen Senra) so I moved back to Madrid. I wanted to keep in touch with London but the next time I tried to go there to present a piece I couldn’t arrive because all London airports were closed due to huge snow storms. I haven’t gone back yet.

I had an idealised image of Madrid, the city I had left when I was about to become an adult, but when I returned, I realised it was a very difficult city as well. Since then, I haven’t stopped to start projects and apply for residencies and funding. Some of my applications succeeded and others failed but I have been able to continue with my job. Lately, I have focused on finding mythology in the things around me. Now I work departing from my own biography and from those of the people who come with me on the way. This has been the starting point for my last works: Anatomy Lesson in a Helicopter, a dance solo for a failed dancer; KIDNAPPING EUROPE (in search for a subjective non historical collective memory), an itinerant project that takes shape encountering others and exchanging memories and anecdotes; Stefano & Janet, a project in which my friends are invited to impersonate the protagonists of the initial piece (Stefano and Janet), and álvaro&tania, a scenic piece in which Álvaro and Tania do something similar to what I am doing in this text but on stage, under an artificial snow storm that always ends up failing.