Two weeks ago, my flamenco teacher, Elena Mamais (known as Elena La Comadre) died. Last week, her family, friends, and students buried her. I think she would have appreciated the aesthetic of the scene: the white snow coating the trees at Mount Pleasant Cemetery, the black coats of the mourners, the red flowers we threw into her grave.

She was an artist, a dancer, a choreographer, a director, and a teacher. She inspired her students to embrace the beauty of Spanish flamenco and to find within its rich history a passion that was personal to them. She had the ability to see what lay gift lay within each of us (in my case, very well hidden under age and no sense of timing). She insisted, in ways we couldn’t quite defy, that we use that gift in our annual shows. It didn’t matter if you just danced in one piece; if you were part of the company, she would find the thing that suited you best.

She could be tough, especially on her senior dancers. “When we start rehearsals, I’m not your teacher anymore,” she’d tell us. “I’m your director.” There were definitely times I was glad I’ve remained among the ranks of the juniors!

Her own preferred dance style was lyrical, expressive, and almost contemporary. The pieces she created for herself usually had to do with grief, loss, and exile. Because she deemed that I was “somewhat dramatic”, I had the good fortune to ‘act’ in several of her vignettes. I played the Nurse in her interpretation of Medea (twice) and one of her aunts, packing a suitcase for her younger sister (Elena, playing her mother) to leave Greece and make the long overseas voyage to Canada.

Her heritage was deeply important to her. She was a devout parishioner of the Greek Orthodox Church and a lover of Greek myth and music.

Her last performance was January 24th, 2026. She danced a solo piece, full of sorrow and pain. We didn’t really know how great that pain was, or that her injury and illness would soon put her in the hospital.

We do not know how we’ll go on, but we’re going to try, if only so that we can fulfill some part of the artistic ambitions she hadn’t yet achieved.

She was beautiful, kind, exacting, and inspiring. She kept me from quitting when I thought I’d never be able to learn to dance. I will miss her terribly.