Omayra Amaya is flamenco nobility, her minimal Vivencias unerringly focused. She performs flamenco puro—no plots, props, polka dots, just brilliant zapateado (footwork), crisp palmas (claps), and rhythmic rocket science. The one frill in the house runs up her red dress. Guitarist-composer Roberto Castellon, cellist Gonzalo Grau, and singer-percussionist Francisco Javier Orozco, a/k/a Yiyi, begin. Amaya enters mid-phrase, lifts one arm, circles her hand in a slow floreo, changes direction and speed, swings her leg, cracks the floor, rocks her hips in a sexy waddle, shrugs and snaps, then stops. Her use of space is restrained, but Yiyi resonates emotion. Amaya roils her heels and slices across diagonals and quarter-circles, toes scraping, her torso convex and concave; she rolls her head and stops. She smiles jubilantly in the encore; that transparency is welcome.
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on June 29, 2004