There’s something wonderfully liberating about standing before Mateo Balaban’s “Rain Bordo” – it’s like watching someone’s emotional weather system having the best kind of nervous breakdown, where instead of tears, we get this glorious explosion of color and movement.
The piece feels like what would happen if a sunset got into an argument with a storm, and they decided to settle their differences through interpretive dance. Those swirling reds and pinks aren’t just sitting there politely – they’re doing the tango with blacks and yellows, occasionally letting blues crash the party like uninvited but wholly welcome guests.
What’s particularly endearing is how Balaban seems to have captured that universal feeling of when everything’s happening at once – you know that sensation where your thoughts are racing, your heart’s doing its own percussion solo, and somehow it’s all oddly… beautiful? That’s “Rain Bordo” in a nutshell. It’s chaos with a purpose, a visual representation of those moments when life feels overwhelming but you can’t help noticing the strange beauty in the turbulence.
The layering here speaks to anyone who’s ever felt like they’re juggling seventeen emotions before breakfast. It’s messy, it’s vibrant, and it absolutely refuses to apologize for taking up space – rather like joy itself, when you think about it. This isn’t rain you’d duck under an awning to avoid; this is rain you’d dance in, possibly while laughing at the absurdity of it all.
Rain Bordo 