By Zoey

For decades, audiences across Cuba packed major theaters to watch the groundbreaking performances of Danza Voluminosa, the Havana-based dance company founded by choreographer and performer Juan Miguel Mas.

Known for challenging traditional standards in the world of dance, the troupe earned international recognition for working exclusively with larger-bodied dancers and redefining ideas of movement, beauty and artistic expression.

The company’s performances once filled some of Cuba’s most prestigious venues, including the massive National Theater in Havana, where thousands of spectators gathered to watch productions that blended contemporary dance with social commentary and emotional storytelling.

The innovative work of the company eventually attracted international attention and became the subject of a Canadian documentary that highlighted Mas’ determination to build a place in the arts for performers often excluded by conventional dance institutions.

Today, however, the reality surrounding Mas and many other Cuban artists is starkly different.

At 60 years old, the veteran choreographer no longer spends his days rehearsing major productions on grand stages alongside professional ensembles. Instead, he devotes much of his time to organizing small neighborhood performances, teaching dance workshops to children and trying to preserve artistic activity within his local community despite the mounting hardships caused by Cuba’s deepening economic crisis.

The collapse of infrastructure, prolonged electricity blackouts, severe shortages of water and transportation, rising food prices and the continuing exodus of artists and professionals from the island have transformed daily life across Cuba. For members of the cultural sector, the crisis has been especially painful as theaters reduce operations, production budgets disappear and state institutions struggle to maintain programs that once formed the backbone of the country’s artistic identity.

Mas recently learned that his teaching contract with the National Theater of Cuba had been suspended, another sign of the shrinking opportunities available to artists in the country.

“The outlook for the arts is complex and bleak,” said Michel Hernández, an essayist and cultural journalist who has closely followed Cuba’s artistic landscape. He said many of the island’s cultural venues, once maintained through state support and accessible to ordinary citizens, have deteriorated dramatically in recent years.

According to Hernández, artists now have limited access to affordable performance spaces, forcing many to depend on a small number of expensive private venues that remain beyond the reach of much of the public.

Despite the worsening situation, Mas insists he has no intention of leaving Cuba, even as many friends, relatives and fellow artists continue emigrating in search of better opportunities abroad.

“I am very interested in staying in Cuba,” he said while preparing for a rehearsal with neighborhood children on a warm Saturday afternoon in Havana. “Were I to emigrate, I would lose contact with that ‘Cubanness’ that exists here, with the audience, the people, the folks next door.”

Born in Havana in 1965, Mas trained under some of the most respected figures in Cuban dance. He studied with legendary ballerina Laura Alonso, influential choreographer Ramiro Guerra and Cuban-American dancer Lorna Burdsall, who encouraged him to continue pursuing dance despite facing discrimination because of his body size.

At a time when dance schools largely favored rigid physical standards, Mas struggled to gain acceptance in professional artistic circles. Weighing around 160 kilograms during his younger years, he was repeatedly confronted with prejudice and rejection. Rather than abandoning dance, he transformed those experiences into the foundation for his own artistic movement.

In 1996, he founded Danza Voluminosa, creating a rare space for performers whose bodies did not fit the narrow aesthetic expectations often imposed by the dance industry. Over nearly three decades, the company developed a devoted following both inside and outside Cuba, becoming a symbol of inclusion and artistic resistance.

The company remained active until 2024, when worsening economic conditions and the broader collapse of cultural funding made continued operations increasingly difficult.

Mas also expanded his career into acting. In 2025, he appeared in the fictional film “Cherri,” a project inspired by his personal life experiences and struggles navigating Cuba’s artistic world.

Like many Cubans trying to survive the economic downturn, Mas has been forced to supplement his income through informal work. To cover expenses, he rents out a small section of his home for commercial use and organizes weekend garage sales where he sells recycled clothing, household goods and used tableware.

Since his sister and teenage nephew moved to Spain last year, he has been living alone in Havana. He carefully manages his limited finances by shopping at a nearby farmers’ market and relying on subsidized medication from a state pharmacy located across the street from his home.

Even amid the hardships, dance remains central to his daily life.

On a recent morning, carrying a water bottle to cope with the intense Caribbean heat, Mas walked several blocks to Havana’s Marianao district, where dozens of children and their mothers waited for him in anticipation.

Soon afterward, an ordinary street corner was transformed into an improvised stage.

Music echoed through the neighborhood as nearly 30 children dressed in colorful costumes — some wearing bee outfits and bright theatrical accessories — danced and performed songs while proud parents watched nearby. For more than an hour, laughter, choreography and applause temporarily replaced the anxiety and exhaustion that have become part of everyday life for many Cuban families.

For Mas, the small community performances carry a significance that goes beyond entertainment.

He said his goal is to expose children to creativity and self-expression while helping them escape, even briefly, from the social tensions and economic pressures surrounding them.

“It’s about bringing the knowledge of art to these children and lifting them out of a reality defined by conflict,” he said.

As Cuba’s cultural institutions continue to struggle under the weight of economic collapse and migration, artists like Juan Miguel Mas are increasingly relying on neighborhood initiatives and grassroots community projects to keep the country’s artistic traditions alive.

Though the grand stages that once defined his career have largely disappeared, Mas continues to dance, teach and create — determined to preserve a sense of identity and human connection in a country undergoing profound hardship and change.

Original article