The stark beauty of New Mexico’s vast blue skies served as the backdrop for the premiere of the short film Following Enchantment’s Line, featuring Diné and Puerto Rican ballet dancer Jock Soto in a singular, poignant dance sequence. As the audience gathered at Santa Fe’s Lensic Performing Arts Center, the heavens opened with a dramatic summer monsoon, the crack of lightning and the echo of hard rain within the theater mirroring the powerful currents of the evening. Following the film’s screening, Soto, a titan of the ballet world for 24 years with the New York City Ballet, led a live rehearsal with dancers from Ballet Taos, accompanied by the evocative classical music of his friend Laura Ortman, a testament to his enduring passion for sharing the rhythm and grace he cultivated throughout his illustrious career.

"I started hoop dancing with my mother," Soto shared, recalling his earliest artistic endeavors. "And I continued hoop dancing until I discovered ballet. Ballet became my life; that’s all I wanted to do." His pursuit of this demanding art form began with significant familial dedication. "My mother and father found the only local ballet school in Phoenix, Arizona, which was hours from my house," he explained. "So my dad would drive there every day, and I got a full scholarship because I was the only guy in the class." This early dedication foreshadowed a journey that would take him far from his Arizona roots.

The path from a rural upbringing in the American Southwest to the hallowed stages of New York City is a formidable one, particularly for a Diné-Puerto Rican individual, the son of Josephine Towne and José Soto. Soto’s musical landscape was as diverse as his heritage, blending the vibrant rhythms of his father’s salsa and the classic sounds of the Beach Boys with the profound resonance of Indigenous drumming. "My dad loved salsa. He loved the Beach Boys, all that kind of stuff," Soto reminisced. "That’s what I remember listening to. And I always got a warm feeling when I heard salsa or drums from the reservation. My heart jumps when I hear thump, thump, thump. And I always felt like, oh, God, I want to do this. I want to do this." This deep-seated desire, coupled with the widely acknowledged necessity for aspiring artists from small towns to seek opportunities elsewhere, fueled his ambition.

At the tender age of 13, Soto made the courageous decision to leave formal schooling and embark on his journey to New York. Now 60 and retired from the demanding physical life of a principal dancer, he has dedicated himself to a new mission: sharing his extraordinary story and inspiring the next generation within the nation’s tribal communities. As the premiere concluded and the rain subsided, Soto and his husband, Luis Fuentes, prepared to return to their home in the northern New Mexico mountains. Before departing, they paused for photographs beneath the Lensic’s marquee, which proudly proclaimed: "INT MUSEUM OF DANCE & CD: AN EVENING WITH JOCK SOTO." "I’m liking the marquee saying my name," Soto remarked with a smile, a sentiment readily affirmed by Joel Aalberts, executive director at the Lensic, who responded, "We can arrange that anytime."

The transition from the physical demands of a dance career to the creation of a digital legacy is a remarkable evolution, and Soto’s commitment to this new chapter was palpable. In the theater lobby before the screening, a moment of reflection on his name revealed his grounded sense of self. When his name was inadvertently misspelled in the Navajo Times, Soto playfully corrected it with a black Sharpie, transforming the "A" into an "O," yet he kept the newspaper, cherishing the local recognition despite the minor error. The article detailed the International Museum of Dance’s initiative to construct a digital archive of his career, a project aptly titled "Jock Soto: The Dancer and His Life."

Witnessing Soto on stage, even in a seated rehearsal, underscored the profound physical toll that a lifetime dedicated to dance exacts. His movements, even when seated, evoked the enduring presence of athletic legends like Bill Russell and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, whose bodies bore the testament to decades of extraordinary physical achievement. "It’s not an easy career at all," Soto candidly told the assembled audience. "You know, it’s often painful. Like, I can’t even get out of this chair if I want to right now." This stark reality underscores the urgency behind Soto’s partnership with the International Museum of Dance, a collaboration aimed at preserving his artistic contributions for posterity and actively fostering the growth of future dancers.

The International Museum of Dance is at the forefront of a vital movement to preserve dance legacies and educational programs through digital archives. Their work with the Dance Theater of Harlem, for instance, contributed to a significant historical book chronicling the company’s profound influence on Black ballet dancers. Beyond digital preservation, the museum harbors a grander ambition: the establishment of a physical space, anticipated to open in 2026, which will serve as a hub for artist residencies, performances, and public programming. While a definitive location is still being determined, the digital archives currently reside in the cloud, meticulously curated by the nonprofit arts organization ChromaDiverse. This organization diligently scours the digital landscape for information pertaining to dancers like Soto, unearthing invaluable photographic, video, poster, and press materials that might otherwise be lost to time. The digital archive offers an immersive gateway into Soto’s life as a dancer and also houses the Moving Memories Fund, which established the Jock Soto Scholarship. The inaugural recipient of this scholarship is Heloha Tate, a promising Chickasaw dancer.

Soto’s journey into the elite world of ballet began at the remarkable age of 12 when he secured a coveted full scholarship to the School of American Ballet in New York City. There, his exceptional talent flourished amidst a cohort of dancers vying for the limited male roles in classical ballet. "I felt amazing, because (in Phoenix) I was in the class with all girls," Soto recalled. "And when I got to New York, I was in a class with all men—40 men. That was my competition, or the way that I evolved." His dedication and skill were quickly recognized, leading to an invitation from the legendary choreographer George Balanchine to join the New York City Ballet at just 16 years old. Within four years, Soto ascended to the rank of principal dancer, a position representing the zenith of achievement in the ballet world. "I became an adult very quickly," he reflected on his early years in New York. "I became very good friends with a couple of the guys. We lived in an apartment together. We had no money, but we would go buy hot dogs on the street or eat pizza and stuff like that. We lived three blocks from the school, so we spent all day till 7 every night, dancing. That’s all we did."

Soto’s artistry reached its zenith in his partnerships with ballerinas, where he masterfully embodied the masculine role, lifting and supporting his female counterparts while ensuring they remained the focal point of the performance. He became renowned as a "natural partner," his technique imbued with the grace and sensibility he learned from his mother, who taught him that dance was a way to "gracefully walk with beauty." His mother was his initial partner in the Southwest’s powwow circles, where she led and he followed, until he developed the skill to lead, thus learning the nuanced significance of each dancer’s role. In ballet, he perfected the masculine role, a tradition he upholds as a teacher today, emphasizing the importance of traditional gender roles for successful performance. "I try to teach the dancers that a man is a man onstage," Soto stated. "And if I see anything other than that, I correct it right away. And I’m like, ‘No, no, you’re behind a ballerina, you’re a man. Don’t act like the ballerina.’ So that’s what I try to teach. Masculine is masculine. It’s not that hard to teach, but it can be a lot."

Soto’s Diné heritage stems from his mother’s clan, born for TłʼááʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼááʼʼʼáThe premiere of the short film Following Enchantment’s Line, featuring Diné and Puerto Rican ballet dancer Jock Soto, was held under the expansive skies of New Mexico, marking a singular moment where the audience witnessed his artistry in motion. As the lights rose at Santa Fe’s Lensic Performing arts Center, a summer monsoon unleashed its fury, with lightning illuminating the sky and heavy rain drumming against the theater, creating a dramatic counterpoint to Soto’s live rehearsal. Accompanied by the classical music of his friend Laura Ortman, Soto guided dancers from Ballet Taos, embodying his lifelong commitment to sharing the grace and rhythm he honed during his 24 years with the New York City Ballet.

"I started hoop dancing with my mother," Soto recalled, reflecting on his foundational artistic experiences. "And I continued hoop dancing until I discovered ballet. Ballet became my life; that’s all I wanted to do." His pursuit of this demanding art form was met with significant familial dedication. "My mother and father found the only local ballet school in Phoenix, Arizona, which was hours from my house," he explained. "So my dad would drive there every day, and I got a full scholarship because I was the only guy in the class." This early dedication foreshadowed a journey that would take him far from his Arizona roots.

The transition from a rural upbringing in the American Southwest to the prestigious stages of New York City represented a profound geographical and cultural shift, particularly for a Diné-Puerto Rican individual, the son of Josephine Towne and José Soto. Soto’s early exposure to music was a rich tapestry, blending the vibrant rhythms of his father’s salsa and the classic sounds of the Beach Boys with the resonant pulse of Indigenous drumming. "My dad loved salsa. He loved the Beach Boys, all that kind of stuff," Soto reminisced. "That’s what I remember listening to. And I always got a warm feeling when I heard salsa or drums from the reservation. My heart jumps when I hear thump, thump, thump. And I always felt like, oh, God, I want to do this. I want to do this." This innate passion, combined with the widely recognized necessity for aspiring artists from smaller communities to seek broader opportunities, fueled his artistic ambition.

At the young age of 13, Soto made the courageous decision to leave his formal education behind and embark on his journey to New York. Now 60 years old and retired from the physically demanding career of a principal dancer, he has pivoted his focus toward a new mission: sharing his remarkable story and fostering inspiration within the nation’s tribal communities. As the premiere concluded and the rain subsided, Soto and his husband, Luis Fuentes, prepared to return to their home nestled in the northern New Mexico mountains. Before their departure, they