Juan Miguel Mas, founder of Danza Voluminosa, is now working in Havana's streets and neighborhood spaces as Cuba's art scene fades, after nearly three decades of performances in prestigious venues such as the 2,000-seat National Theater. The shift from a major state venue to the street says plenty about who gets squeezed when the system starts failing: artists, teachers and audiences are left to improvise while the institutions that once claimed to support culture hollow out.
Who Pays When the Lights Go Out
Mas, 60, said his daily life has been upended by persistent blackouts, water outages, soaring costs and a lack of transportation. He said artists have been hit even harder by canceled shows, a lack of production budgets and a mass exodus from the cultural sector. Those are not abstract inconveniences; they are the conditions ordinary people are forced to absorb while the official cultural apparatus shrinks around them.
Mas said he was recently notified that his teaching contract with the National Theater of Cuba has been suspended. That suspension lands in a context where, according to essayist and arts journalist Michel Hernández, "The outlook for the arts is complex and bleak," and Cuba's cultural spaces, once affordable and state-run, have deteriorated significantly and left artists with few venues beyond a handful of expensive private spaces.
What Remains After the Institutions
Mas has not left. He said, "I am very interested in staying in Cuba," and added, "Were I to emigrate, I would lose contact with that 'Cubanness' that exists here, with the audience, the people, the folks next door." That attachment is not sentimental decoration; it is the social fabric that remains when formal institutions fail to protect the people who make culture alive.
Born in Havana in 1965, Mas trained under Laura Alonso, a renowned ballerina, and Ramiro Guerra, the father of contemporary dance on the island. He also studied with the Cuban-American dancer and choreographer Lorna Burdsall, who encouraged him to persevere despite discrimination from dance schools because he weighed 160 kilograms (352 pounds). His career began in 1996, when he made his debut with his own company, Danza Voluminosa, or Voluminous Dance, which remained active until 2024 and provided a home for dancers whose bodies diverged significantly from the industry's prevailing aesthetic norms.
Mas also worked as an actor and starred in the 2025 fictional film "Cherri," based on his own life experiences. But the cultural world that once gave him a platform has narrowed sharply, and the remaining spaces are increasingly out of reach for many artists.
Street-Level Survival, Not State Rescue
To supplement the modest income he makes working with children, Mas leases a small area of his home for business use and hosts weekend garage sales featuring curated recycled clothing, tableware and household goods. Since his sister and teenage nephew relocated to Spain last year, he has lived alone and managed his expenses by shopping at a local farmers' market two blocks away and using subsidized medications at a state-run pharmacy directly across the street.
On a recent morning, he walked six blocks to the Marianao district, where 30 children and their mothers awaited him. There, the group turned a street corner into a stage for a 90-minute performance in which the children, dressed as bees and other colorful characters, sang and danced. That is the kind of direct, local organizing that survives when official venues fade: a corner, a crowd, a teacher, children, mothers, and a performance built from what is available.
Mas said, "It's about bringing the knowledge of art to these children and lifting them out of a reality defined by conflict." In a city where blackouts, water outages, transportation problems and rising costs shape everyday life, the work of keeping art alive has moved from the prestige of the National Theater to the street, where people are still making something together despite the collapse around them.