Rare and precious, those occasions when the choreographer speaks in musical terms, to make things easy for you. Usually, when he tells you some ideas he gesticulates, extends his arms, dances for a moment in the middle of the bar, or perhaps remains motionless and enigmatically silent; other times he tells you stories that you understand only in pieces. You look at him with a strained face, since you should know how to interpret what the hell he meant by all that, and then transcribe it in some way and give it back to him transformed into some organized sounds

In a broad and precise portrait of Marlon Brando (“The Duke in his Domain”), Truman Capote recalls the strange mismatch he seemed to find between the face and the body when he first saw the American actor, a rare mixture of angel and trucker, as if beauty and beast had been integrated into a single organism, in a dangerous and trembling presence of winged unicorn. The best artistic creation combines the immateriality of the most creative shared echoes with the contrast of the tremendously physical base provided by the craft and the materials it polishes; everything worked organically, fused into a natural body, integrated into a coherent corpus of collective, communal vocation. This is how I see the music of Borja Ramos

When Borja Ramos (Barakaldo, Spain, 1973), became interested in dance from a professional and musical point of view, Valencia, the city where he lived and studied Fine Arts, was the effervescent focus of emerging and established dance companies and the platform for their exhibition through the Dansa València festival. In an edition of this event, which found in the late 1990s one of its most enriching moments, he began his trajectory as a composer, which to date, and only for contemporary dance, he has signed with over forty productions. “There I began to see dance on stage and discovered Damián Muñoz (National Dance Prize 2015)