Artist Dialogue Series with "Mind the Güeco" by Panela Combo

In conversation with Maria Jose Muñoz Rivera (Majo) and Juliana Ruiz Torres from the Mind the Güeco ensemble.

What does it mean to be Colombian?

After speaking with the artists, I started to think about a question that sits underneath Mind the Güeco: What does it mean to be Colombian when you have left Colombia?

The artists described the work as carrying the feeling of a long-distance love letter to their hometown. It is not simply a love letter filled with nostalgia. It asks why people leave, what they carry with them, and what remains attached to them when they arrive somewhere else.

They spoke about the different reasons people may leave Colombia—political, social and economic circumstances, opportunities, or simply the need to build a different life.

Leaving, then, becomes complicated.

You can leave a country without leaving everything behind.

Spanish as a choice

One decision I became particularly interested in was their choice to keep Spanish on stage.

The artists explained that this allows Colombian identity to exist on its own terms, rather than constantly translating itself into something more familiar for a British audience. For me, this feels like more than simply using their native language.

It becomes a political choice—to remain visible, and to let a language and culture exist without always having to explain themselves.

As someone who does not speak Spanish, there were moments when I noticed people around me laughing before I understood why. I found myself reading the performers' bodies, tone and rhythm instead.

Rather than removing the distance, the Spanish made me aware of it.

Perhaps that awareness is important.

What do they carry?

The mask became one of the clearest images of this for me.

The artists brought it from Colombia. They explained that it carries cultural identity, but also a kind of pressure. As Colombians travelling abroad, certain stereotypes can follow them—for example, being pulled aside for extra security checks because of Colombia's association with drugs and crime.

I found it particularly interesting that they use the mask almost as an act of self-mockery. It becomes a joker, allowing them to play with those stereotypes before someone else defines them through them.

"If this is the image you have of us, we can play with it too."

But the humour does not make the pressure disappear.

The mask becomes something you carry wherever you go. It is not simply an object; it becomes identity, stereotype, culture and roots—all things that cannot be easily hidden or left behind.

You can cross a border.

But you cannot necessarily cross away from everything that has already become attached to you.

Encounter

This is where I found the performance particularly interesting.

The work is not only about Colombia. It is also about what happens when Colombian identity encounters another culture.

The performers move between languages, histories, memories and different ways of seeing. Sometimes they are together; sometimes they seem to inhabit completely separate worlds.

Dance becomes another way of communicating when language is not enough.

I may not understand every word, every political reference or every cultural joke, but I can still encounter something through the body.

The Gap

I asked the artists whether they expected audiences to leave with a particular message or understanding.

Their answer was simple: they mainly wanted to share their thoughts and experiences.

I found that refreshing.

Because I didn't understand everything. There is a lot of text, history and political context, and sometimes the work moves faster than I can process. But perhaps the artists are not asking me to solve it.

The gap between Colombia and London, between Spanish and English, between how you see yourself and how others see you, does not necessarily need to disappear.

Maybe the work is asking us to look at that gap instead.

To recognise what we carry.

To recognise what we cannot hide.

And to ask, perhaps, what remains of home when home is no longer where you live?

Special thanks to Maria Jose Muñoz Rivera (Majo) and Juliana for taking the time to share their creative process and reflections after the performance.

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