Leiomy Maldonado's Meta-Ballroom

July 13, 2022

The “Metaverse” is a term often thrown around in reference to virtual reality, NFTs, and crypto-adjacent subjects. What exactly does it mean, however, to be in the Metaverse? For starters, it helps to have a VR headset on deck. With these, we can enter virtual spaces hosted by platforms such as Horizon Worlds.

Within these platforms, creators and communities are able to build their very own worlds and invite anyone at all to join them. One of these worlds is Dream House. The virtual landscape was constructed by a cohort of grassroots LGBTQ+ leaders to host a space in the “Metaverse” where leaders in their communities could engage in dialogues about growth, empowerment, and finding safe spaces, both IRL and in VR. Among these leaders was none other than the international dance and Ballroom culture legend Leiomy Maldonado.

Interview by Deren Owji
Images courtesy of Horizon Worlds

office had the chance to enter the Metaverse and explore Dream House before sitting down to speak with Leiomy about her experience taking part in the pioneering virtual community. While the development of new technologies and ways of interacting with our chosen communities and families are undoubtedly exciting, Leiomy emphasizes the responsibility to stay true to the culture and heritage of Ballroom and use its history to inform our ever-developing technologically advanced communities.

How did you come upon stepping into the metaverse and exploring this kind of space to interact with your art form, as well as your fans?

Well for me, I found out about Metaverse and Oculus via my own gaming experiences. I love gaming. I now have the opportunity to speak on this panel in the metaverse and discuss the idea of chosen family, and also learn how to create an avatar and use gestures to get different facial expressions and stuff like that. It's been really, really fun. I'm looking forward to possibly teaching dance class through the Metaverse because the movements are really so fluid.

I’d love to talk about your experience here as someone who so prominently expresses herself through your body movements and physicality. Now that we are starting to understand a new form of physical presence with this platform, how do you reconcile your relationship with your real-life physicality with existing in such a virtual space?

It's still kind of something new. I'm getting used to it but I am really, really so interested in just how everything moves. And I'm able to do some voguing here like that's so cool. I can only imagine how much further we can get with this technology but I feel that so far it's really fun. I enjoy everything about it. The fact that you can even make facial expressions and give high fives and put your hands up to get confetti…

It’s also nerve wracking, and quite vulnerable compared to what a more traditional online experience is. Ballroom too is such a space where you have to make yourself vulnerable to others.

Yeah it is. Because you know, you have to get out there and get in front of people and be judged for whatever you're representing. That can be very tough.

What was your experience the first time you stepped into the Ballroom community?

I was introduced to voguing through a VHS tape which is so different compared to how so many people now can just hop on YouTube or social media and find out about it. I feel like my introduction to Ballroom was more so me finding myself as a woman of Trans-experience and finding a place where I was able to be myself and showcase my talents in a competitive way. But then also in a way where I feel like voguing shaped me into being who I am today. I was able to learn how to express myself as a young teen and I was able to, you know, express my emotions and disappointments and my happiness and every every emotion you can really talk about through it. That's something that has been a huge journey for me: being able to express everything that I've gone through through my artistry.

Now, being the mother of your own house, you have a global scale of respect and admiration. What kind of responsibility do you feel accompanies that?

I've been a mother even before starting my own house. I've had kids who I've been mentoring for years and have been under my wing. And I feel like as I’ve been becoming a house parent, that has become more of an international thing. I was able to create a family and a house for kids around the world and bring together so many people who wanted to be a part of ballroom, but didn't have the proper mentorship or the right leader. A lot of times, people just come up wanting to be a part of ballroom just because of the excitement and entertainment of it, but they don't understand the culture and familial aspect behind it. I wanted to get a place where I could provide a family to those people who didn't have one at home themselves.

There is visibly a new crowd of people who have been propelled towards Ballroom as a result of the international exposure. Shows like Pose, and then later Legendary which you are a part of, have brought the community into the limelight. While it’s fantastic to see a range of people be introduced to and explore the history and culture of Ballroom, do you think that there is a reason it has been very intentionally gate-kept in the past? Will Ballroom need to continue gatekeeping as a form, almost, of self-preservation?

It's still important to gate-keep Ballroom because a lot of times, yes, ballroom is getting all these opportunities in the mainstream and all these things are starting to open up for people in the community. But a lot of times those opportunities, even though there have been given or open to ballroom people and the people who are actually a part of our own, those are not the people that are able to take the opportunity because a lot of times it's through dance agencies for instance, and they're looking for voguers and they're looking for people who are part of ballroom and here comes somebody who just learned about Legendary last month and then they’ll try to take the gig. That's why even till this day, I’ll constantly call people out and say “sorry, but not sorry, this is not proper. This is not somebody that should have had it.” I don’t do this in a sense of hating, but more so because there's so many people who could have had the opportunity. Brands who choose the wrong person are ultimately cheating themselves and they're cheating their viewers because they're not giving them the proper, authentic talent. I still am a firm believer in this and I stand behind gatekeeping because it's important that we still have boundaries when it comes to getting opportunities through involvement in a Ballroom community.

Leiomy's avatar pictured in Dream House within Horizon Worlds.

On Legendary as well, your critiques are famously very candid and they express exactly what you're talking about, which is that it's about more than just the movement. It's the emotional connection. The dramatics are part of that real-life, lived experience that translates through the story that you're telling. How are you looking forward to sharing those experiences physically, and dramatically, where we are now: in the Metaverse?

I think it'd be fun to teach it like a voguing class. Even if it's just hand performance. It would be fun to get people involved this way. Also, in live classes, you come across people who clearly don't want to be seen. A lot of times they're joining the class, but they're in the back, but I'm the type of person that when I'm teaching those classes and I see those people I push them to the front and I'm like, no, like, come to the front. Don't be afraid to mess up, don't be afraid to come into this space. That's what I'm here to do: to teach you. So I feel like teaching classes through here would be interesting dynamic-wise. Even having panels where you can have a couple of the icons sit around and just share the experiences with others and share how it was in their eras and when they came around, opposed to, you know, nowadays, where things are far more accessible.

Do you think that this is also going to provide avenues for people who may not have the physical ability or mobility to participate fully in vogue and Ballroom to come into that community virtually?

I think it does open things up, especially for people who are not as mobile. This is a place where people will have so many endless options and endless things to do which is pretty inspiring. I love the fact that you even brought that up because I'm sure a lot of people don't even think about that. We should never forget about including everyone in our community. I’m looking forward to hearing from someone who has been able to experience new types of mobility here.

Is there anything that scares you about the Metaverse, considering how different it really is from real-life?

I haven't looked at it in that way. I honestly feel like this is more of a safer space for a lot of people where you don't have to meet people in person. For example, a lot of trans women are being murdered right now. Something like this can open up places where you can meet someone and try to get to know them on a better level where you don't have to go out of your way to meet them and put yourself at risk of violence. Even for trans kids who want to be able to be in spaces where they're not being pointed out because they're trans, who are now able to live experiences and share things with other people and not always have to be surrounded by their physical reality. It is inspiring.

Culture

The Club Is Coming to the Stage

We enter and make our way to what is approximately front left of the DJ booth, where we’re accustomed to dancing at clubs in New York. “So is this a techno club or a dance performance?” yells an uncertain participant in my boyfriend’s ear. He laughs, bouncing along to Ben UFO, and yells back, “It’s both!” The club has long been a hot topic in European contemporary dance but it is only now making its way into New York performance venues, largely through transatlantic tours. R.O.S.E. follows recent examples like Michele Rizzo’s HIGHER xtn. at MoMA PS1 (May 2024), (LA)HORDE’s Room with a View at NYU Skirball (October 2023), and Gisèle Vienne’s Crowd at BAM (October 2022).

Do these performances compromise the club’s spirit — a space idealized for its anonymity, dark lighting, and thundering music? The notion of the club as a utopian escape is admittedly just that — an ideal — because of how its intense conditions can create barriers to entry. Still, the club remains sacred for many, a place to forge connections and embrace an alternative state of being. Looking at how performances transfer this spirit to new settings reveals what aspects of the club are essential and those that aren’t.

Sharon Eyal, R.O.S.E. 2024. Photography by Stephanie Berger, courtesy of Park Avenue Armory.

Eyal’s dancers make their entrance. The lighting shifts from roving blue to yellow spotlights as Ben UFO’s tracks transition to more melodic beats. Clad in deconstructed lace Dior lingerie with dark red tears painted on their faces, the dancers move cautiously in a tightly maintained pack, slicing paths through the horde with hoof-like steps and jerky leg extensions. After around ten minutes of this controlled choreography, the dancers vanish as the lighting shifts back to blue and Ben UFO picks up his dubby beats. The club, as we knew it, resumes. This cycle of tightly executed movements and free-flowing club-goers repeats several times, each time emboldening the dancers to plunge further into the crowd.

Clubbing in a building once built for the U.S. Army National Guard on Manhattan’s Upper East Side turns out to be surprisingly successful — at least for the audience. What starts as an awkward, scattered group searching for their non existent seats gradually gels into an engaged, bouncing crowd that erupts in cheers each time the dancers enter and exit. Performance patrons who might never step foot in a club find themselves swept up in its potential for communion, moving in unison with fellow ticket holders. But it isn’t until the very end of R.O.S.E. that the dancers finally break free from Eyal’s choreography and join the fired-up audience in a brief moment of improvisatory movement with the music. By keeping her dancers at arm’s length, Eyal seems more interested in the club as a backdrop for her signature movement style than wholly as a space with meaningful stories to be told.

Michele Rizzo, HIGHER xtn. 2024. Photography by Cameron Kelly courtesy of MoMA PS1.

Back in May, I attended Wire Festival, a multiday electronic music event at Knockdown Center that had no shortage of organically united dancefloors. It attracted a crowd of seasoned ravers who were eager to celebrate the start of spring as they danced alongside DJs who played well into the daylight. I left Wire in an afternoon daze to see Michele Rizzo’s HIGHER xtn. at MoMA PS1. My sleepless euphoria only deepened as the performance unfolded, starting with a lone dancer who looked plucked out of the festival.

The dancer, dressed in sneakers, baggy jeans, and a tight tank top, shuffled slowly into the gallery, perfectly in sync with the looping bars of an understated electronic melody. Soon, other dancers, clad in the same staple rave uniform, joined him — each having traveled from Europe for the U.S. museum debut of HIGHER xtn., which premiered at the Stedelijk in Amsterdam in 2018 and quickly became a fixture at kunsthalles and festivals across the continent. As the score’s tempo climbed, the choreography locked into a 16-count sequence, which the dancers executed with precise synchrony. They remained intensely focused, never making eye contact with each other, as they sought release in the endless repetition of synthesized beats. Once the dancers reached their limit, they stopped the sequence and exited the gallery, one by one.

HIGHER xtn. used the focused daylight of the gallery to highlight the meditative release found in the repetitive movements that dominate dark dancefloors. The performance’s restraint brought more consistency and intentionality than Eyal’s all-encompassing club construction in R.O.S.E. Yet both performances offer enticing entry points into club culture for those who may not frequent raves. Rizzo’s ecstatic, hypnotic repetitions reveal how the club can mirror other meditative practices, while Eyal’s interpolation of performance and clubbing helped hesitant audience members blossom by the end. Still, both works overlook one of the most underappreciated aspects of clubbing — its potential for individual expression. HIGHER xtn.’s pristine uniformity especially risks promoting the outdated techno trope that there’s a “right” way to dance to electronic music.

Maybe this shortcoming is, in fact, a benefit. For habitual ravers jaded by one too many sunrise sets, it’s a reminder to return to the club with more intention. If you pause and peer through the darkness, you’ll see hundreds of people moving to the same beat, each with their own subtle variations. This collective choreography is a ready-made spectacle that doesn’t need validation in a theater or museum. And when the music shifts slightly, you can watch the ripple effect sweep through the crowd while feeling the new beat in your body. Maybe this small bit of magic is best left on the dance floor.

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Culture

Porsche SCOPES Brings Art, Music, and Design to Toronto

The festival was a full immersion into Toronto’s dynamic creative energy. Day one set the tone with DJ collective Living Room, followed by an experimental performance by Claire Rousay that captivated the crowd. Jewelry designer Steff Eleoff unveiled her Porsche Taycan 4S art car installation—a bold fusion of automotive and wearable art inspired by her Sedona ring—while OVO Sound’s Naomi Sharon and DVSN wrapped up the night with powerful, genre-defying performances.

We witnessed SCOPES Toronto bridging underground and mainstream with day two’s lineup. DJ Korea Town Acid’s set paved the way for Angelphroot and Dameer’s debut of BASSMATI, a track blending South Asian influences with bass-driven sounds. Chippy Nonstop’s return to Toronto and Richie Hawtin’s extended set were milestones of the evening, proving that the city’s underground scene has a global resonance.

The final day featured standout performances from local pianist Harrison, Indigenous artist Tia Wood, and hip-hop visionary Sean Leon, who elevated his set with a live choir. Moonshine Collective’s film and musical performance explored themes of African utopia, showcasing art’s power to bridge culture and technology. Rising Toronto star SadBoi, who paused her tour to perform at SCOPES, further underscored the festival’s commitment to nurturing local talent.

Throughout the weekend, we experienced installations from artists like Mitsu Mitsu and culinary creations from Bar Mordecai, capturing the multifaceted creativity Porsche SCOPES brought to Toronto. This milestone 10th edition, open to all, allowed Toronto’s vibrant arts scene to thrive, underscoring SCOPES’ mission to celebrate local talent while connecting it to a global audience.

office had the chance to connect with rising star SadBoi ahead of the event. In our conversation, she shared insights into her creative journey and reflected on what performing and growing up in Toronto means to her and her work.

How are you, and where are you at right now? You told me you were traveling.

Um, I’m good, I’m feeling really good right now. I’m traveling back to Salt Lake City. I had a show yesterday in Seattle. I’m on tour right now with Coco and Claire.

How is touring life treating you? Do you like it?

I love being on the road. To be honest, I feel like I don’t know—like I’ve had good experiences and bad ones—but this time it’s really fun, especially with the people I’m surrounded by. It’s also the longest tour I’ve been on; I have about four more weeks to go. I’m trying not to think about how many days I have left.

Do you feel homesick?

Yes, because when I start thinking about how many days are left, I start to miss my dogs. I’ve just been trying to stay in the moment—I don’t even know what day of the week it is, to be honest with you.

Oh, sweet! What are your dogs’ names?

Jillian and Winston. I know, they’re crazy names.

You’ll be performing at SCOPES in Toronto, which is where you grew up. Do you feel like the crowd is different when you perform in Toronto compared to other cities?

Yes, I mean, Toronto just feels different because it’s home. Every time I come back to perform, something in my career has changed. The last time I performed in Toronto, people just wanted to have a good time, and I’m excited to perform back home again to see everyone’s reactions. I know it’s going to be different from the last time. It’s exciting to see your own growth. Toronto is a tough crowd, though. If we’re with you, we’re really with you.

So, they’re super picky? You have to gain their respect, or what is it?

I think Toronto people are in their own world, but when something really connects with them, they’ll lose themselves in the moment. But it takes something to bring them out of that. Toronto crowds are tough because even if they like you, they won’t show it outright until they’re really vibing with you.

It’s like a vibe check, right?

Exactly. They’ll enjoy your performance, but it’s hard to explain. When people visit Toronto, they often say, “Oh, you guys are so nice,” and I’m like, “I don’t think we’re that nice, we’re just polite.” Like, you can walk down the street, and no one will say anything, but it’s just our mannerisms.

You mentioned Toronto can have a moody energy, especially at night, and that the underground night scene there really inspires you. Can you talk more about what makes Toronto's nightlife so influential for you?

Absolutely, Toronto has this unique energy that comes alive at night. Similar to New York, there are the popular clubs everyone knows, but you need to find your niche—the people who know where the real parties are. I remember going to raves in high school yards, sneaking in because I wasn’t old enough. Events like Baby, Jerk!, and Yes Yes Y’all were pivotal, exposing me to DJs blending dancehall with EDM—something I hadn’t seen before. Toronto nightlife is moody and intense, but when everyone’s out, it’s like the whole city is alive.