Lo que baila (That Which Dances) is a found form. A footprint. A residue asking to be selflessly enjoyed, in spite of myself. Lo que baila requires an attention that exceeds every category that I could ever impose upon it. Lo que baila is that which stays or remains. That which resists. That which persists: a surface, a rhythm, a dream. That rest of an organ imprinted on the floor. That hand pausing one second. That cliff I fall off, fully impressed. That corner where I choose to stay, where I choose to die. That bonfire that you gaze into. The ashes of a well-remembered profession. A secret. A mystery. A dancing that whispers an inaudible message. Lo que baila is almost dead. That has already been, a having been. The afterwards is all that remains.
There is again something in dance that I would like to underscore. […] Something like a surrender to that which dances, that which is all but casual, and when it comes to Paz, which surrenders after having conquered a space of its own […]”. Fernando Gandasegui.
“Resting in dance, never completing dance, with such a presence that it might be only possible when dance or the body or both cease to be dance, the body or both, and are both at the same time instead.” Kike García Gil.
“Every movement […] with such a heavily-imprinted rhythm. […] Everything is fuzzy but real, very real, on an irreal level, magical.” Rubén Gutiérrez.