In Apollo, Pioneer Winter Collective's latest dance-theater work, myth collides with memory, and the body becomes a living archive of queer legacy. Presented as part of Out (Loud) in the Tropics, the performance unspools across generations, offering an unflinching look at identity, mentorship, grief, and the art of self-reinvention.
Apollo will have its world premiere on April 25–26, 2024 at the Miami Theater Center, presented by Miami Light Project and FUNDarte, in partnership with the Miami-Dade County Auditorium’s Away From Home Series. At once intimate and epic, Apollo reimagines the Greek god through multiple lenses—each performer embodying a version of Apollo shaped by time, community, and survival.
Ahead of the premiere, we sat down with PWC’s Artistic Director Pioneer Winter to talk about the genesis of the piece, the urgency of intergenerational storytelling, and why queerness has always meant being in a constant state of becoming.
1. Apollo feels deeply rooted in personal history, mythology, and queer legacy. What was the initial spark that led you to reimagine Apollo through this lens?
Originally, I wanted Apollo to answer the question a lot of us have as we age.
What happens once I reach a certain age? Will I continue to evolve? Have I become everything I’m meant to be? In Balanchine’s Apollo, the story centers around a young Apollo being poured into by three muses - their expertise and experience all going into this new potential. But what about the muses? And what if they weren’t actual muses, but someone who has been where Apollo has been, even held the role before him?
Through the process, I came to understand that the entire cast was actually Apollo - different iterations and not voiceless guides as the original ballet - but Apollo nonetheless. It is a very queer, self-birthing we are tapping into. The power to recreate yourself countless times. To tap into ancestral memory. To honor who came before you while also pressing forward.
2. The piece integrates dance-theater and myth with contemporary queer realities. How did you approach weaving these narrative threads into a cohesive performance?
Pioneer Winter Collective’s creative process is highly iterative and the narrative is deeply influenced by the lived experience of the cast. The text, written in collaboration with the performers by playwright Juan Sanchez, emerged from each cast member’s experiences on and off the stage. The sound design and music by Diego Melgar was also developed in response to the evolving movement and landscape of the work. The use of the camera and live feed is a crucial element in layering these perspectives and creating intimacy - even in a large theater. It’s about finding the balance between the individual stories, the archetypal themes of the myth, and the contemporary realities of being queer. Everything PWC makes is devised, meaning everyone’s role was made for them and with them.
3. You’ve described Apollo as a “self-birthing”work. What does that concept mean for you artistically and personally?
Queer people birth themselves often. They may reinvent themselves and rename themselves countless times. It’s a beautiful process to live in - knowing there’s always space for change and evolution. In the myth of youthful potential, there's this idea you only have one opportunity to ascend. In our Apollo, we explore a constant state of becoming and the idea that if one ascends, the other doesn't need to disappear. In fact, it becomes the ascended one’s responsibility to remember all the Apollos who came before. I really believe that being made new again can happen at any stage of our life.
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4. One of the core questions Apollo explores is: “What do we take from those who came before us? What do we leave behind?”How have your own mentors or ancestors shaped this work?
The narrative arc of Apollo flows through three lessons, each imparted by a different cast member. Passing on knowledge: body to body, mind to mind. It’s also about the tensions of generations. The tensions behind mentors. They all have certain value systems and have different experiences.
The piece is profoundly shaped by the relationships I’ve had with mentors and those who came before. My mentors have instilled in me the importance of creating space for vulnerability and authentic expression. Our "ancestors" in the queer community – those who fought for visibility and acceptance, those lost to HIV/AIDS – their struggles and triumphs are a vital part of our collective memory and inform the urgency of this work.
5. The performance presents multiple iterations of Apollo across time and body. How does this structure help express the complexities of queer identity and legacy?
Presenting multiple iterations of Apollo across time and body was a deliberate choice to share queer identity’s complexity and fluidity. By having different performers embody Apollo, we highlight the various facets of this Greek god – strength, vulnerability, knowledge, and the weight of experience and responsibility. Also how legacy is something that is carried forward and transformed by each new generation.
6. In many ways, Apollo feels like a space of reckoning—a confrontation with silence, loss, and erasure. What conversations or communities were you most mindful of honoring during this process?
In the development of the piece, we found through our shared experiences that there was a desire to honor those we’ve lost to the HIV/AIDS epidemic. We wanted to create a space where these histories are acknowledged and not forgotten without being heavy handed. The conversations within the queer community about intergenerational mentorship and the complexities of those relationships were also crucial.
7. Apollo features performers of varying ages, abilities, and experiences. What was important to you about presenting such a diverse range of bodies on stage?
I believe every body dances and I’m interested in pushing back against the limited representations of dance and the human body we often see. Bodies over the age of 35 or 40 are often not seen on stage, much less 64, 68, and 60. For me, the beauty and power of performance exists in the uniqueness and vulnerability of each individual. This reflects the reality of our community and challenges the notion of a singular "ideal" body.
8. Apollo is premiering as part of Out (Loud)in the Tropics—a festival centering freedom of expression and queer voices. What does it mean to debut this work in that context and in Miami specifically?
I’m deeply invested in the future of queer artmaking in Miami. Queer people in Miami and across the county are facing constant censorship and erasure. To present a work so deeply rooted in memory and legacy within a context that celebrates those voices feels like a powerful affirmation. In Apollo the projections include moments from the archives of their lives - moments also unnoticed or forgotten. In the same way our Apollo brings those memories and histories into the light, we know that now more than ever witnessing and acknowledging someone else’s experience is one of the most important things we can do as humans.
9. There’s a palpable sense of urgency in the work—particularly around HIV/AIDS, the Missing Generation, and intergenerational mentorship. How do you hope younger queer audiences engage with these themes?
We hope to spark conversations about the importance of remembering our history, honoring those we’ve lost, and fostering meaningful connections across generations. Everybody has experienced love and loss. Everyone has experienced the pain of growing. All the things that are part of our life cycle. Apollo is about how our humanity is tied to each other. How we may be at different stages of our life but that doesn’t mean we can’t stop learning from each other.
10. What has creating Apollo taught you—about yourself, about legacy, or about community?
I feel that when most people refer to legacy or tradition (and our preoccupation to preserve tradition), what they really mean is continuity. Everything must change to survive, but the essence and intention can remain, even as other parts evolve. Also, while in one of our last residencies for Apollo, I began to understand my own process differently - how what I inherit is not just something I hold, but something I must learn to release.
11. If there’s one feeling or question you hope the audience leaves with after experiencing Apollo, what would it be?
Our goal continues to be expanding the definition of all that dance is and can be so that all bodies survive, thrive, and are witnessed. I think most audiences leave a dance performance wowed and intimidated by the bodies of the artists they’ve just witnessed. I think most audiences also see a separation between themselves and the performer. And I think that most audiences don’t see themselves in what is performed onstage. In all the work I make, I want the audience to see themselves in the shapes and skin and stories of the performers they’re watching. Yes, there’s still intensity and virtuosity, but there’s also a profound sense of connection. My hope is that the connection we create through Apollo will outlive the moment of performance and everyone will remain with a sense of their own perpetual becoming.
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