Claudia García Carriera (Havana, 1996) returns to Hungary with renewed energy. Since 2022, she has been a member of the Hungarian State Opera Ballet as a soloist. As if that weren’t enough, at almost 29 years old, this young Havana native — who was born and raised in Centro Habana — can boast a decade of professional life dedicated to classical dance.
For the former principal dancer of the National Ballet of Cuba (BNC) — she joined the company in 2015 — returning to the island every summer for the past three years is an opportunity to reconnect with her most cherished hugs and enjoy summer experiences alongside family love. It’s also an excuse to visit the headquarters of the company that saw her develop as a dancer, take a few classes in its rooms and experience the everyday life within its walls.
Back in Budapest, Claudia García is already preparing, in the rehearsal phase, for what’s to come next season with the Hungarian State Opera. They will begin in September with performances in Dubai, before returning to the Opera House, an institution that blends opera theater, ballet and the opera house’s orchestra.
Everything indicates that it will be an intense season, in which the Hungarian company will stage around 40 ballets, including works from the classical and modern repertoire, as well as contemporary choreographies. They will arrive with a revival of Onegin and versions of great classics such as The Sleeping Beauty, Swan Lake and The Nutcracker, as well as works by Jiří Kylián and Alexander Ekman.
The ensemble to which García belongs is the only classical ballet company in the Central European nation. Cuban audiences recognized her talent and enjoyed her in key roles from the classical repertoire, in Cuban versions such as Odette/Odile, Swanilda and Kitri. With her experience, she knew that joining a new company meant a new beginning in her career and that she would have to win over a new audience. It was time to start from scratch. “I had to greatly improve the appearance of my body, my figure. One didn’t think about it, but when you meet a Russian or a Ukrainian in the same company, you realize they have different body types and different ways of moving. So I had to study how my arms could look longer, how I could “fine-tune” my Latina body. That was hard work: integrating and aligning with different body types, fitting into those patterns without losing my essence. Of course, I defend the passé alto of my Cuban ballet school,” Claudia García tells OnCuba one hot afternoon, sitting in the shade at the headquarters of the National Ballet of Cuba.
From Havana to Budapest, with ballet as her guide
After midday, Claudia García appears absorbed, watching a rehearsal by Anette Delgado and Grettel Morejón in the white room of the National Ballet of Cuba, located on the ground floor of the institution. Both leading figures are rehearsing the role of Kitri, which they assumed during a season of performances the company offered in early August at the National Theater of Cuba.
For García, seeing that scene reminds her of her early days with the Cuban company, back in 2015. She recalls the enthusiasm of the first day: “the feeling of entering a haunted house, that kind of place where you feel the energy, a house that carries all the tradition of Cuban ballet. Everyone has been here.”
From her time as a student, she remembers watching ballet videos provided by her friend, journalist Marta Sánchez. Claudia watched the images and wanted to be like Rosario Suárez “Charín,” Ofelia González or Svetlana Zajárova. She tried to draw inspiration from everywhere; she confesses that she never missed a season of the BNC and was amazed to see Viengsay Valdés, Anette Delgado, Sadaise Arencibia and Yolanda Correa on stage. “I wanted to be part of the National Ballet of Cuba. I didn’t know if I would become a soloist or a principal dancer. I saw all those great dancers, and even though I was last in line, I wanted to be there.”
Despite the demands of the path, the young dancer never felt pressured. “Give your best, do the best you can, but don’t compare yourself to anyone,” was one of the things her mother told her. Her support has been fundamental in her professional development. “That’s why I think I was never afraid of doing something wrong, of making mistakes. She always supported me, even now.”
“For example,” the artist explains, “there were times when my friends started to take other paths; they left the company, and my mom never pressured me to leave. On the contrary, she was proud that I was still here, because she loves seeing me on stage. When the opportunity arose for me to move to Hungary, it was a very difficult decision to make, because neither of us imagined that moment would ever come. We had to face it. She’s already seen me dance in Budapest and dreams of seeing me dance here again. That moment will come; we’ll make it known (she smiles).”
One of the last times she appeared on stage with the National Ballet of Cuba was as part of the company’s original cast in the production of Seventh Symphony, by German composer Uwe Scholz (1958-2004). “It was a work completely different from the Cuban style. Since I already had a contract with the Hungarian State Opera, this ballet helped me prepare to change my mindset and my body for what was to come. Pieces like that have been very good experiences for the BNC, to try out new styles and choreographies.”
“In companies, large or small, there’s a Cuban dancer. We’re a community and we keep an eye on each other thanks to social media. You can see that everyone leaves a Cuban flag or some detail highlighting their origins on their feeds. I like the sense of collective care and admiration we have for each other. Every time I see a colleague succeeding in another country — look how well Patricio Revé is doing, for example — I share it so my followers can see it, so everyone knows that the Cuban school of ballet is still active and its fruits shine around the world. We are highly trained artists,” she says proudly.
At 29, Claudia, a graduate in dance from the Higher Institute of Art (ISA), enriches her knowledge and mastery of Cuban technique in a multicultural environment, where she blends with other styles and schools of classical dance. The pandemic, she emphasizes, was the catalyst that led her to decide to travel to Budapest. Three and a half years later, she is convinced that the decision she made was the right one, a certainty that the artist shares with OnCuba as she looks back to talk, ultimately, about practicing and enjoying an art form that has accompanied her throughout her life.
Why ballet?
**I was a very shy girl and my mother looked for ways to get me out of that bubble. Then she saw the possibility of enrolling me in a Spanish ballet class — I was two and a half, almost three — and the teacher immediately told my mother that I was better suited for classical ballet, not flamenco. They then transferred me to the vocational workshop at the Prodanza Center, located in the Grand Theater of Havana, in the afternoons. The teacher agreed and said, “Leave her here, but she has to lose weight.” Those were the words, and they still stay with me.
I continued in that vocational workshop until I reached the age to enter the Alejo Carpentier Elementary Ballet School, located on L and 19th Streets, Vedado. I spent my first five years with many teachers who influenced me, like the great Silvia Rodríguez. From there, I went to the National Ballet School, with teachers like Julia Bermúdez and Elena Cangas, who also influenced my training, until I became part of the National Ballet of Cuba.
Your relationship with ballet began when you were very young. At what point did your love for dance and your desire to learn it become something conscious that would determine your adult life?
Sometimes I question my choice of path, especially when I experience those days when I’m filled with aches and pains all over my body. Of course, ballet became a part of my life. I remember my mom telling me, when I attended vocational workshops, that the day I didn’t want to continue, I should tell her and we wouldn’t go anymore. Sometimes I would say, “Mommy, I don’t want to go,” but after a while I would change my mind and we would go.
It becomes a way of life, even if it hurts: it’s part of my “beautiful pain.” Ballet became a kind of meditation for me, and it still is. When I don’t feel well, ballet soothes me.
After 25 years, this art form is still my moment of peace. Sometimes I wake up in a bad mood, have my coffee, but after ballet class I’m a different person.
How do you face your daily life as a dancer?
I confess that there are more days when my body doesn’t cooperate than when it does, and the pain can be intense: even when you rehearse well, your body feels it the next day. I remember Alicia saying: “Ballet is a battle between the mind and the body. The body wants to win, but the mind has to be stronger and rise up.”
I almost always wake up in pain. I have breakfast and go to class. Around 11:00 a.m. I start a full day of rehearsals. Sometimes, in the Hungarian Opera’s work schedule, I have to be at the Opera House until 8:00 p.m. There are even times when I have rehearsals, a short break, and a performance in the evening. The next day you get up and repeat the same routine. It’s very demanding and physically demanding. You must live for your body: what you eat, the water you drink, the amount of rest you can give it. Also, what you cultivate intellectually, what you read — all of this is important. All your knowledge is evident in your dancing, incredibly.
I try to be active in cultural consumption: going to plays, exhibitions, concerts. Everything I consume will later nourish my performance. In Hungary, the culture is different; I try to establish points of comparison between Cuban and Hungarian culture. After all, I dance for the Hungarian audience, and they have to see themselves reflected in my performance. I’m Cuban, and they realize it immediately, every time I go on stage. That idiosyncrasy is perceived even in the way I walk.
There are two of us Cubans established in the company currently, but the other dancer — Jessica León Carulla, also a soloist with the Hungarian State Opera — has been here for about 15 years. I greatly respect the fact of dancing for an international audience and I try to bring the art to them without losing the essence of my Cuban school, because that’s what characterizes me, what makes me different from so many people from other countries. The company includes dancers from Ukraine, Russia and Japan, for example.
Carrying out any profession in a multicultural environment would seem like a highly desirable goal for many people. Did you always think of such a dream for your work? How would you define the evolution of your professional dream?
That dream has taken a tremendous turn. I never thought I’d leave the National Ballet of Cuba, but there came a time when the routine made me want to explore more, dance new repertoire, work with more choreographers. Ultimately, to test my worth in a place where no one knew me.
I’m still living my dream, and now it’s more than that. I think I’ve gone further because I’m pleased to be able to return to my home of the National Ballet of Cuba, watch the company’s rehearsals, remember what my routine was like here and realize that the dream has changed for the better.
How does Hungary appear on your professional map?
It happened by chance. We were in the middle of quarantine due to the COVID-19 pandemic; the BNC was shut down for almost a year. I remember taking ballet classes in my 2 m² living room every day. I missed the stage so much, and then, one day, I received an invitation from the director of the Hungarian State Opera, with a contract as a soloist. Up until that moment, I confess, this company wasn’t on my list of possibilities. It was a matter of embracing the adventure, and it was better than being at home, in that 2 m² living room, taking my classes without conditions. Being stopped wasn’t an option for me.
I went to Hungary without knowing the country’s language — I didn’t speak English either — and I didn’t know anyone, not even the Cuban dancer who was there. I had to start from scratch, and that was another turning point, a point of maturity. Now I’m grateful for having taken the plunge.
During the pandemic, no one knew what would happen. In fact, surviving was a reason to be happy. I evaluated my possibilities; I saw that the world began to open up before us [Cuba]; they were already working and I needed to dance.
When you decided to emigrate, you were a principal dancer with the National Ballet of Cuba. Do you think you missed out on anything here?
Yes. I wanted to…I want to star in this company’s great ballets — Giselle, Carmen. The Cuban versions are unparalleled. That’s what I missed. I still had many roles to play; I did Don Quixote, Swan Lake, and I miss embodying those roles in the BNC’s historic versions.
How do you remember that first choreography that allowed you to shine on stage with the National Ballet of Cuba?
My first ballet as a soloist was En las sombras de un vals by Alicia Alonso. I was part of the corps de ballet and we were in the dress rehearsal. The girl who was supposed to be the soloist got hurt, and when the rehearsal was over, they told me I had to replace her.
I had to learn the choreography in two days. I did it that night at home, the next day I had a rehearsal and the next day I danced it. I remember it fondly because I studied so hard in those 48 hours. I danced it twice, and it was a source of joy and motivation. I think from then on, the teachers saw they could trust me. That’s why a dancer always has to be prepared: you never know when your moment will come.
I would finish my rehearsals with the corps de ballet and go see Annette Delgado’s rehearsals with Aurora Bosch, or Grettel Morejón’s rehearsals with María Elena Llorente. I watched all of Viengsay’s rehearsals. I tried to observe what the life of a prima ballerina was like from the outside, and I learned so much from them: from the way they tied their shoes, what leotard they wore, how they reacted. Ballet, as a performing art, is very visual. You have to watch what other dancers do, because the more you observe how they react, even on their bad days, all of that contributes to your performance.
When you leave school, you have to realize that you have to move differently, incorporate other knowledge and thoroughly work on your technique with your partners. Only then can you earn a place, if you make a mental and physical change. I watched those dancers and realized I still didn’t move like that. Of course, time passes, and you build relationships, ask questions and conduct short interviews with more experienced dancers: “What do you think when you do arabesques? And in this step, what do you feel?”
That’s how I found my way of moving, and I think the teachers realized I had potential. Of course, every time they gave me a chance, I tried to do it perfectly. That’s how it’s been until now, every time I step on stage.
What piece did you debut with in Hungary?
It was Mayerling, in the role of Countess Larisch; it’s a work by Kenneth MacMillan (1929-1992) that I always saw on records. It felt so distant…. It was a good start to my time in Hungary and I had the guidance of a choreography consultant who worked with MacMillan. He explained it as if it were a story — it’s a ballet based on true events — and made me want to one day go to the place where it all happened. It’s very theatrical, with spectacular music by Franz Liszt.
I loved the experience, and also seeing those huge productions. That was a change for me: arriving at my dressing room table and having so many different costumes, full of glitter and props. I remember having to do about seven costume changes; I didn’t know how to communicate, and it was a challenge. I’ve learned so much in three and a half years. I never thought Claudia would change and learn so much in such a short time.
How would you define that time?
Lately, I’ve been reading a book about bamboo. It explains that the plant spends five years underground and then grows several meters in three months. I think my development has been like that. I identify with bamboo in terms of learning times, of experiencing the growth process and then blossoming. I think that blossoming is yet to come.
When I moved to Hungary, I experienced the same feeling I had when I joined the National Ballet of Cuba for the first time. I have so much to learn from the valuable people around me. Suddenly, I have colleagues who aren’t the people I grew up with, dancers from all the world’s schools. A very rich, multicultural exchange takes place. Then I think, “My God! That’s what Fernando, Alberto and Alicia Alonso experienced when they were creating the Cuban school of ballet.” Now I have the opportunity to make the comparison and defend my school.
Is Hungary your definitive destination? How do you see the future?
I think settling in Hungary was positive, also because, being located in Central Europe, I can move around, experience other things and return. Luckily, my director in Hungary is quite flexible. I fell in love with that country: the city, the company’s repertoire, which is 80% classical, although we do include contemporary pieces. So far, that’s my focus, but I don’t rule out other experiences.
How was your season that just ended?
It was intense. Last season I started with my debut in a version of Coppélia, composed by Gyula Harangozó. It’s a different Coppélia, one I wasn’t familiar with; even the story unfolds differently, very technically difficult. Then I had my debut in The Nutcracker, where the lead dancer plays the roles of the girl and the fairy — in the Cuban version, the lead dancer only plays the role of the Garapiñada Fairy in the second act — and that was a challenge.
The most recent was my debut as Gamzatti in La Bayadère, a ballet I dreamed of performing. It has three acts, is quite long, with that admirable entrance of the “Shadows.” I really liked this version.
Your family lives in Havana. I imagine that, after each season, vacation allows you to return and recharge.
Every year I return, yes. And every time I come, I try to visit the National Ballet of Cuba. I even taught a summer course here on one of those trips, with a group of children, and it was so informative. I relied so much on my teachers; I realized I was repeating the same patterns they taught me.
I think that’s something Fernando and Alicia achieved very well: the Cuban school of ballet has it deeply rooted. You never see teaching ballet separate from your career as a dancer. One grows up with that history and then one has the responsibility to share the knowledge, to continue the legacy.
Do you see yourself as a ballet maître in the future?
Yes, I like it. Above all, working with repertoire, because teaching the methodology itself is a pretty big responsibility. Sometimes I see small flaws that I struggle to correct, even in myself.
How do you deal with the failed step? Are there any impossible things in dance for Claudia García?
Every time I finish a performance, even if it went well, there’s always a mixture of feelings. I keep thinking about what might have gone wrong and how to fix it and do it better next time. Of course, we’re human: if you don’t fail, it’s because you don’t dance. That motivates me to keep going and always try again; to arrive the next day to master that step that, perhaps, the night before in the performance, didn’t go quite as I wanted.
I think I have an impossible step in every performance (she smiles), that moment that represents a challenge. But, after rehearsing and practicing it so much, that moment emerges and becomes your strongest point, because you decide to conquer it.
I’m going to turn 29. I already see that I’m halfway there and this is a career that, truly, is very short. I realize this. I spent seven years with the National Ballet of Cuba, and I’m already in my third year in Hungary. But, luckily, I’ve had quite a few experiences. I’m grateful and proud of every opportunity that allows me to grow.
Do you feel impatient when you say this is a short career, or do you take it step by step?
I take it step by step. I’ve noticed that I need to start enjoying every moment more because it’s a short career, but it can be much shorter: you never know what can happen. Many people have had to stop dancing because they get hurt. I’ve learned to enjoy every moment, even that “impossible step” that stresses you out. One day I won’t be able to do this, and I’ll miss it, so I enjoy it.
I think about experiences to be lived in your career and Giselle comes to mind.
Yes…. Giselle, Carmen. They are ballets I want to be able to dance one day. I think, because of the tradition of the Cuban school of ballet, I don’t feel complete if I don’t dance them. Also, the process of creating those characters will also make me grow a lot, but it has to be in the Cuban versions (she smiles).
Giselle continues to be the defining ballet for ballerinas.
Yes, especially in Cuba. To become a prima ballerina, you must go through Giselle, of course, with the significance of the imprint Alicia left in that role.
Could this debut in both roles happen with the National Ballet of Cuba?
It’s something I’d like to see happen. For my part, there’s the desire; I’d like to return today to the Cuban version of those great classical ballets, because it’s the way to return to what I was, to what my routine was like. Returning to the rooms of the National Ballet of Cuba is always like coming home.
I feel the need to come and share with my colleagues, recharge and appreciate how much I’ve learned. I owe everything I am to the Cuban school of ballet and I also appreciate what I have in Hungary. I’m here with my eyes open, without forgetting my origins and with the clarity of knowing where my goal lies.
