Gabriela Ortiz is one of Latin America’s most important composers. Her works are brimming with energy, deeply moving and remarkable for their sheer beauty of sound. All these qualities can be heard in her ballet score Revolución diamantina. Gustavo Dudamel conducts the work with the Berliner Philharmoniker in mid June.
The score won Ortiz three Grammys in 2025, propelling her into the international spotlight. Although Ortiz had long been one of the most prominent voices in Latin American music, only in recent years has the 61-year-old found truly global recognition. Gustavo Dudamel played a crucial role in bringing her music to wider international attention, and continues to champion her work in his guest conducting engagements. Audiences have responded enthusiastically, and her music has won praise for its combination of energy and vitality with complexity and depth.
With the Berliner Philharmoniker, Dudamel has already conducted Ortiz’s Téenek – Invenciones de Territorio (2023) and Kauyumari (2025). In Revolución diamantina, Ortiz addresses the issue of femicide. Inspired by a protest march in Mexico City in 2019, the score reflects the courage of the women who took part through its rhythmic drive and sensitivity to orchestral colour. Gabriela Ortiz also resists the “Fiesta Mexicana” cliché. “From an aesthetic point of view, Latin American music is enormously diverse,” she says. And it certainly cannot be reduced to the familiar image of sombrero-wearing mariachis.
Ortiz grew up in Mexico City surrounded by the folk music tradition: her parents were members of the popular music group Los Folkloristas. She began playing the piano at the age of nine. “My father loved classical music, so he introduced me to the works of Mahler, Beethoven and Mozart. But I also loved listening to salsa and mambo, the Beatles and the Rolling Stones,” she says. At 13 she discovered Béla Bartók: “That completely changed my life. That was when I decided to become a composer.” She studied in Paris and at the National Conservatory of Music in Mexico City. A scholarship took her back to Europe, where she explored the local avant-garde and electronic music. But Ortiz realised that this path was not for her. “That style didn’t work for me. I chose a different path.” At a time when neither cultural diversity nor women composers were given much attention, Ortiz simply fell through the net.
“I remember that when I was in Darmstadt, a musician came up to me and said condescendingly: ‘Oh, you come from Mexico – so you’re one of those Mexican composers who work with melody, rhythm and harmony,’” Ortiz remembers. “And I said: ‘Yes. Is that a problem?’”
“I remember that when I was in Darmstadt, a musician came up to me and said condescendingly: ‘Oh, you come from Mexico – so you’re one of those Mexican composers who work with melody, rhythm and harmony,’” Ortiz remembers. “And I said: ‘Yes. Is that a problem?’ I like music. And music is about melody, rhythm, harmony, chords – not just about texture and noise.” Ortiz has remained open to a wealth of influences. She counts György Ligeti, Kaija Saariaho, Thomas Adès and John Adams among her favourite composers, alongside Alberto Ginastera and Silvestre Revueltas, two towering figures of Latin American music.
One of her greatest musical heroes is the legendary Chilean folk singer Víctor Jara. The spirit of his protest songs can be felt when Ortiz addresses social injustice, as she does in Revolución diamantina. She offers a few thoughts on the piece: “It is a work about collective responsibility. It emphasises the idea that change does not belong to just one group; it belongs to all of us. Only by moving forward together can we imagine a shared future. I hope the audience does not experience it as a detached narrative, but as an invitation to listen, reflect and feel together.”
A bundle of energy
Gustavo Dudamel – a longstanding friend of the Berliner Philharmoniker
Gone too soon
The list of promising composers whose work came to an abrupt end due to an untimely death is sadly extensive. Vítězslava Kaprálová is among them, and in her case too it is painful to imagine what great music will forever remain unheard.
Not of this world
Fate dealt Lili Boulanger a cruel hand. The first woman to win the coveted Prix de Rome, she was only nineteen when she effortlessly outclassed every male entrant in the 1913 competition; but within a mere five years, she was dead.