It’s hard to believe that only a week has passed since we closed the chapter on BWS. Time feels strangely altered in the aftermath of something so profound. And yet, as I sit with the experience and sift through what it has left behind, one word rises above the rest, again and again: gift.
To have been part of the Beyond Workshop Series this year feels like a rare and layered offering—both the most generous gift R.Evolución Latina could have extended to me, and, in many ways, the most necessary gift I could have chosen for myself.
Before BWS, I was standing at a crossroads artistically—restless, uncertain, caught in the familiar churn of audition season and the relentless question of what’s next? There was a tension in that space, a quiet frustration with the unknown. And so, when I was accepted, I knew instinctively that I had to surrender to it fully—to treat those two weeks not as an answer, but as an opening.
On our very first day, program director Heather Hogan offered us a simple but daunting directive: be ready to free-fall. At the time, it felt abstract—almost poetic. Now, it feels like the most honest description of what was required of us: to release control, to trust the process, and to step into the unfamiliar without guarantees.
That same day, I had the privilege of working with R.Evolución Latina founder Luis Salgado, whose presence—despite the demands of two major productions running simultaneously in Chicago and Washington, D.C.—set the tone for everything that followed. He guided us through Suzuki exercises that left me both grounded and unexpectedly exhilarated. There was a clarity in the work, a sharpened sense of presence that lingered long after we finished. When he told us he would be passing us into the hands of Leon Ingulsrud, it felt less like a transition and more like a continuation of something intentional and deeply rooted.
Leon became a steady anchor throughout the experience—a master of both Suzuki and Viewpoints, and a reminder of what it means to be fully committed to the craft. Through these methods, I found something I hadn’t realized I’d been searching for: a tangible way into storytelling. A framework that gave shape to instinct. Coming from a dance-centric background, I had often relied on movement as my primary language—but here, I was offered new tools, new access points, new ways of inhabiting character that felt both rigorous and liberating. And perhaps most unexpectedly, those discoveries have begun to shift my relationship with the parts of myself I’ve long avoided—especially in my singing. What once felt intimidating now feels…possible. Even inviting.
But beyond the technique, beyond the training, there was something else—something harder to articulate, but impossible to ignore. The community. The spirit of R.Evolución Latina is not just something you witness; it’s something you feel, something you’re held by. In a time when being an artist can feel isolating and uncertain, this was a space defined by courage, generosity, and shared risk. We were all being asked to stretch beyond what was comfortable, and yet, there was constant celebration in one another’s breakthroughs—big and small.
That kind of environment is rare. And its impact lingers.
I know, without question, that the love and belief I felt within the R.Evolución Latina family is something I will carry with me long after this moment. It has left a mark—one that feels both grounding and propulsive. And as I look ahead, I do so with a sense of curiosity rather than urgency.
Because if BWS taught me anything, it’s that sometimes the most meaningful growth happens not in having the answers—but in having the courage to step into the unknown. I can’t wait to see where that leads—for all of us in the BWS Class of 2026.
Photos by Krystal Pagan | Follow her on Instagram @krystalconye