Antonio de Triana (Antonio García Matos(Seville 1906 – El Paso, United States, 1989) was an important flamenco dancer, unknown to many, but fundamental in careers such as that of Carmen amaya, whom he taught to dance with an orchestra and with whom he had to fight a lot to get him to adapt to the arrangements that the businessman Sol Loop He devised plans for her, with the idea of turning her into a star in the United States and making her shows profitable, which is exactly what happened.
Brother of the musician Manuel Garcia Matos (not to be confused with the expert musicologist from Plasencia of the same name), Antonio de Triana studied at the academies of Master Otero and FrasquilloHe also has a background in music. He debuted as a child with the flamenco dancer. The Quica, in a show of the little argentinianIn 1920, he decided to travel to New York, where he entered illegally. He worked with La Argentinita in various shows after his return to Spain in 1929, including the production of The love wizardwhich premiered in 1933. He also worked with her in later years in France and other European venues, after arriving in Paris in 1936, and on tours of Argentina and North America from 1938. While in France, the impresario Sol Hurok convinced Argentinita to form a trio with him and his sister Pilar Lopez and Montoya's guitar, but the latter rejects the idea of traveling to America again, after his experience in Argentina. It would then be Carlos Montoya Argentinita's guitarist on this American tour. Antonio de Triana was a teacher of important flamenco dancers such as Luisillo, Antonio de Córdoba, Rafael de Córdoba, Roberto Iglesias y Manolo Vargas. [1]
Within this long career, Antonio de Triana's time in the Teatro Colón From Buenos Aires in the company of La Argentinita (1939?) leaves us a very interesting account of a possible dance to the “rhythm” of the martinete, many years before Antonio Ruiz He created the first official choreography of the martinete dance in 1952, in the film Goblin and Mystery of Flamenco de Edgar neville.
We include here several excerpts from the interview that was conducted with him Francisco Ramos de Castro published in Mexico on January 14, 1940 in Magazine of Magazines. [2]
Mr. ANTONIO DE TRIANA. Spanish dancer.
By Francisco Ramos de Castro.
The curtain has fallen on the double heel tap, the final flourish of the "farruca." The air is pierced with applause. Once, twice, ten times the red lip rises, behind the polychrome teeth of the drums, so that "Argentinita" and Antonio de Triana may receive the thunderous incense bestowed upon them by an fervent audience.
And with the purpose of meeting this Antonio de Triana, the last keeper of the classical school in Spanish dance, we headed towards the corridor of the dressing rooms of this sumptuous "Colón" Theater in Buenos Aires.
A doorman politely guides us.
—The dressing room of Mr. Triana?
—Right there.
Already at the door, about to request permission to break in, we heard someone speaking inside:
—"I am going to begin soon. Come as soon as possible."
We turn towards the goalkeeper.
—Excuse me; the person I wish to visit is Mr. Triana.
—Well, that's it; I already told him.
The dressing room door opens to admit a waiter of Saxon type, who says goodbye.
—“Good by, Mr. Triana.”
—“Goodbye, my friend.”
And turning towards us, regaining his Sevillian accent:
—Were you asking for me? —he asks—. Come in, please.
We acknowledge that the fact that a Spanish art dancer speaks English like a Piccadilly Circus resident is not something to make you lose your voice while exhaling screams of amazement; but it is not the norm either.
Antonio de Triana justifies himself.
—I've danced in New York more times than in Spain. Imagine that… I was just a kid when María Montero took me there.
As Triana speaks, with the picturesque verbosity of the sons of the land of the Virgin Mary, we observe him, now free of makeup and with his urban face restored. Antonio de Triana doesn't look like a dancer to me. This courteous young man doesn't seem to be the one who has just woven the intricate arabesques of Albéniz's "Polo" on the stage's framework, nor the admirable interpreter of the difficult "Alegrías," nor the witty and roguish dancer of Navarro's "Danza Castellana." Nothing in his appearance or attire reveals the profession of Antonio de Triana, known and admired by audiences in Europe and North and South America.
Ready to leave, he asks:
-Come on?
—“With much pleasure.”
Triana:
-Man!…
And she smiles as we leave.
SPANISH DANCE.
INTERMEDIATE
I am certainly not an exegete of Spanish dance; but I have a deep, almost primal feeling for it, honed by twenty-five years as a journalist and author, in frequent contact with leading performers of the genre. Of all the definitions of dance, I prefer that of Théophile Gautier: "Dance is music to be watched." And I believe that, of all dances, the most difficult, the most spectacular, and therefore the most impressive, is Spanish dance.
[…] art inherited and extolled by the Spanish gypsies, the only gypsies with God and with a homeland, of whose art this Antonio de Triana is a magnificent interpreter, priest of a flamenco liturgy that beats in slow rhythm on the anvil of the "martinete" and that becomes dynamic and graceful in the joyful pilgrimage, tireless in its coming and going, of the "bulerías", personal and inimitable in the orgy of its reaction; great interpreter of an art that "westernized the oriental sense, and Spanishized its Africa, and despaired its Spain, which for all that, as Felipe Sassone affirms, remained alone, inimitable and immortal."
From the journalist's description, it seems that Antonio de Triana would perform some kind of dance to a slow rhythm marked on the anvil of the pile driverThe dancer Antonio Ruiz did not use this anvil prop in his legendary performance in Neville's film, where he sings Pili.
But it is possible that this embryonic martinete dance by Antonio de Triana could have been the later catalyst for the choreography of Antonio Ruiz, who we know was part of Argentinita's company for a time during her American tour. Before this, Antonio Ruiz coincided with Incarnation Lopez, and also with Carmen amaya and other artists on their tours of Latin America, after leaving Spain due to the Civil War. Note this photo where his dance partner at the time also appears, Rosario, together with You knowArgentinita, and other members of the Amaya family, such as Antonia Amaya.[3] In the center, the Mexican singer Agustín Lara, a great interpreter of the bolero genre.
What wouldn't they learn from each other!
For your interest, we've included the rest of the interview with Antonio de Triana, a flamenco dancer sadly largely forgotten despite his historical significance. Enjoy.
[...]
DANCER FOR LOVE, AT SEVEN YEARS OLD
—Is it possible?
—Just as you hear. I was very precocious when it came to love. I was seven years old when I fell in love with a little girl who lived in a Sevillian courtyard near my house. The girl was crazy about dancing and she favored the boy who danced best. Why should I tell you? I started tapping my heels, jumping around, and playing the castanets, so much so that you couldn't stop talking to me. But after eight days, I was the partner of the flirtatious little dancer.
—I suppose you're not self-taught. You must have had teachers.
—I mean… The best teacher in the classical school: Maestro Otero. I studied and practiced with him, and he was the one who gave me the push to become a dancer at the age of eight.
—For practice?
—In terms of age. I started dancing professionally at the age of eight.
THE FIRST COUPLE
I partnered with a young woman who danced "like an angel": "Quica." I hope she reads this memory I dedicate to her with all my affection. She was one of the best dancers of her time. No one has ever danced the bolero en pointe, with open-toed shoes, like her.
—Does it act?
—No. She lives in Madrid, retired now, although she's younger than many of the performers. We debuted at the "Salón Imperial" in Seville, billed as "the García brothers, a miniature dance couple," in 1918. Incidentally, the "star" of that program was La Argentinita, my current partner. We were a great success. And we toured all of Andalusia. I forgot to mention that, actually, my public debut was at the Café de Novedades, that same year, 1918, with a tableau flamencoWith the best picture flamenco Back then! Just look: the "dancers" were Malena, La Macarrona, La Gorda, La Fernandoda, La Sardina, and La Colebillina. Javier Molina, the "musician," and the "singer" El Tiznao. What do you say to that?
—They were something like a Gotha selection flamenco.
—What a drop, what a downpour! It was a deluge in the coffee art scene!
—But his first outing…
—To New York. María Montero took me. She and Nati, "La Balbafina," were the two best dancers of that time. And they both died prematurely. The second died of natural causes; the first tragically.
—Tragically?
—Yes, María Montero was beaten to death with a cane by an "admirer" in New York…
—What a lovely way to express admiration!
—He fell in love with her; Maria paid him no attention… The eternal.
—Was she performing with you when she was murdered?
—No; it happened later. Our debut was a huge success, a very huge success. It was my first strong impression; something like my own conviction in my art. And you know, in New York they know how to appreciate dance. No Spanish affectations, mind you. I've never cultivated or accepted Spanish affectations. Because I refused them, I turned down a good offer to go to Hollywood. Outside of countries with a Spanish character…
—…of Hispanicity.
—That's right; outside of those countries, the best place to understand Spanish dance is New York. And I've danced in Paris and London. But how can I put it? In London they appreciate it, in Paris they see it, but in New York they truly understand it.
THE "STARS" OF SPANISH DANCE
—One of my greatest satisfactions as an artist is having danced with the best dancers of my time: La Quica, María Montero, Amalia Molina—my godmother, because she was the one who got me announced as Antonio de Triana—, La Argentina, and Laura de Santelmo. Now, once again, La Argentinita.
—I miss a glorious name…
—Indeed; the most glorious. That of the unique and brilliant interpreter of Spanish dance: Antonia Mercé "La Argentina." And it pains me to never have danced with her. But I almost did. She hired me once, when I was already committed to La Argentinita to premiere Falla's "El Amor Brujo." And I couldn't accept. You can believe in the sincerity of my feelings. Because La Argentina was the best. It can be said of her that she died without rival.
—And with Antonia gone, which one do you think is the best?
—La Argentinita, without a doubt. In Spanish choreographic art, La Argentinita.
—And what about the composers of the genre?…
—Falla is the most profound. Albéniz is melodic grace. Granados is sweetness. Among the young musicians, Ernesto Halffter, son of an Andalusian and a German, a disciple of Falla.
------------
[1] For his biography we recommend the book VEGA DE TRIANA, Rita: Antonio Triana and the Spanish Dance. A Personal Recollection. Harwood academic publishers, Amsterdam, 2008. [1st ed. 1993].
[2] Revista de Revistas January 14, 1940 year XXX, no. 1547.
[3] Photo published a few years ago by Alberto Rodríguez on Facebook. We located it in the publication Hoy. “Gitanerías. Intimate Party at Carmen Amaya’s House,” Mexico, February 10, 1940, a copy of which is kept in Argentinita’s personal archive. I thank Guillermo Cerón, of the National Newspaper Library of Mexico, for his help in dating the publication. In January and February 1940, Argentinita was touring Mexico, where Carmen Amaya and the “Sevillian kids” were also present.
