Outside, mid-April in Basingstoke was all drizzle and grey light. Inside The Haymarket, Art of Andalucia opened another climate entirely. For one evening, the theatre felt closer to a Spanish taberna, alive with song, guitar, percussion and dance. Its warmth came from the shared play running through the evening. Singers, musicians and dancers listened, answered, teased and energized one another from start to finish.
That warmth begins with the music. Even without catching every word, the singing carries a strong sense of address, as though the voices fill the room and speak directly into it. The songs often carry more force than the dancing, giving the evening much of its emotional weight. Around them, Daniel Martinez’s guitar spreads sound across the floor like a woven surface, those flowing arpeggios laying something down for the others to step into. The music gathers under everyone on stage and gives the whole performance its ground.
The evening’s collective pulse is sharpened by the percussionist Julian Ticotico, who is a pleasure to watch throughout. Always alert to the others, smiling, listening, clearly enjoying the unfolding conversation on stage, he makes the ensemble feeling visible. Rhythm passes continually between bodies, circulating through the performance rather than travelling in a single line.
Gabriela Pouso brings striking contrast across the evening, first in black, with soft, sinuous arms and an alluring composure, then later in a vivid red dress with a long train that transforms her silhouette entirely. In that second appearance, the dress becomes part of the choreography. At times it opens around her like a flower; at others, she seems to test and discover its weight as she dances with it.
Angel Reyes makes the strongest impression. The footwork is astonishingly fast, but what lingers is the phrasing, accent and intention carried within it. Rapid bursts of sound from his feet suddenly resolve into one emphatic stamp or a cluster of heavier beats, like a cry, an exclamation, or a phrase thrown toward someone across the stage. That gives his dancing an unusual intimacy. The rhythm feels directed, as though aimed at a partner, a fellow musician, or an imagined other. Here flamenco becomes music made through the body.
The second half deepens that impression by making the musicianship of flamenco even more explicit. It opens with an extended instrumental section, with Reyes joining the musicians so naturally that the boundary between dancer and player begins to blur. The moment clarifies something essential about the form. The dancers’ footwork belongs to the score itself. It produces rhythm, interrupts it, answers it and drives it forward.
Reyes’s long solo towards the end brings all this into focus. He sings as well as dances, and humor enriches what could otherwise have remained a straightforward display of virtuosity. Small gestures, flashes of timing and playful details in the phrasing repeatedly draw laughter from the audience, bringing wit, ease and delight in communication into the room. Flamenco is often framed through intensity, passion and severity. Here, mischief also has its place.
What stays with me most is this spirit of exchange. Art of Andalucia finds its substance in relationships: between voice and guitar, between percussion and footwork, between one performer’s glance and another’s response. Independent touring companies can arrive without much fanfare and still deliver exactly the kind of surprise that reminds you why live performance matters. On a wet April night in Basingstoke, The Haymarket held a different weather system entirely. I would gladly see this company again.
Flamenco guitarist, composer and director: Daniel Martinez
Dancers: Gabriela Pouso and Angel Reyes
Singers: Inma Montero and Danielo Olivera
Percussionist: Julian Ticotico
This post was written by the author in their personal capacity.The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect the view of The Theatre Times, their staff or collaborators.
