INTERVIEW – In this conversation with choreographer Arthur Pita, we talk into the creative process behind his new ballet adaptation of The Great Gatsby, premiering at the Royal Danish Ballet on Saturday May 3rd.

What began as an entirely different commission evolved into a dance-theatre reimagining of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s classic novel, one that eschews mere 1920s glamour for a deeper exploration of character, identity, and the fractured promises of the American Dream.

Pita reflects on his initial skepticism about the novel, his subsequent epiphany after reading it for the first time, and the choreographic architecture required to bring its iconic characters -Gatsby, Daisy, Nick, Myrtle, and George – to the stage.

The interview spans everything from dramaturgical strategy and musical composition to pointe shoes, surreal symbolism, and the political reverberations of the American mythos in a Danish context.

As Pita sees it, The Great Gatsby is not simply a nostalgic feast of jazz, Charleston, and champagne. It is a meditation on obsession, loss, and the cost of yearning for a life that perhaps never existed.

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Alexander Meinertz:
To start, I want to ask what inspired you to take on The Great Gatsby as a ballet. Was it a commission, or was it your idea? How did it come about?

Arthur Pita:
It was Nikolaj Hübbe’s idea. We began talking in 2023. Initially, it was actually going to be a different piece entirely—another idea he had the rights to. We were pursuing that, and I had already started mapping out the concept and shaping the structure…

Alexander Meinertz:
So a completely different book?

Arthur Pita:
A completely different thing, yes. But then, as it turned out, the rights – what he thought he had secured—didn’t quite work out. It was tied up with a film company.

So we found ourselves back at the drawing board. I was a bit upset, honestly, because I thought the commission might fall through. I worried he might just want to do something else, and I had been really excited about the opportunity to work here and collaborate with Nikolaj.

Then we started tossing around different ideas. “How about this? How about that?” He was looking for something accessible for the opera house—something with a bit of blockbuster appeal.

Alexander Meinertz:
A ballet blockbuster.

Arthur Pita:
Yes, exactly, a ballet blockbuster sort of thing. We went back and forth on a few big titles, getting close with one, and then almost landing on another…

And then, out of the blue, he emailed me and said, “I just re-read The Great Gatsby, and I really think we should do it. It’s brilliant.”

Now, I was familiar with the 1974 film with Robert Redford, and of course, the Baz Luhrmann version. I always felt the Redford film told the story quite well, but I wasn’t particularly taken with the Baz Luhrmann one. At that point, I didn’t feel a real connection to the story – I wasn’t sure I fully understood it.

So I told Nikolaj, “Let me form a proper opinion. Let me read the book.”

And I did, over the weekend. I’d never read it before. And it’s a real page-turner. I was flipping through the pages, and I could really see it because it’s so beautifully written. F. Scott Fitzgerald’s writing is just… the passages, the musicality of the language – it’s stunning.

There’s such depth in these characters, and it’s so poetic. I remember thinking, Wow, this is beautiful. I had a completely different understanding of it after reading it.

So I began thinking more seriously about it, and I told Nikolaj Hübbe, “I really love it, let me just sit with it a bit longer.” And I started to piece together how we might approach it. Then I realized, it’s kind of a perfect ballet: You always want a ballet where you can use the whole company. You’ve got your principal characters, your featured roles, your ensemble, your corps de ballet…

Alexander Meinertz:
A ballroom scene…

Arthur Pita:
Exactly, you need all those elements to really build the world. You can even have children, different generations… If a story includes all these kinds of people, then it’s the perfect basket to hold a narrative. You can just mix it all up.

So that got me excited. And then, of course, the period, the 1920s. I’ve done quite a few American stories, a lot of Americana, and I’ve spent a lot of time in the U.S., so I felt like I understood that world.

And then, as always, you start to go deeper. You fall down the rabbit hole and really try to find the gems in terms of how to structure it, how to approach the dramaturgy.

Gatsby’s Emotional Core

Alexander Meinertz:
I’ll definitely come back to that in a moment, but before we move on, was there a particular moment or theme in the novel that really sparked your imagination?

You mentioned it sort of clicked for you, and you talked about how it’s a full ballet, which makes sense. But was there anything in the story, or one of the characters, that really pulled you in?

Arthur Pita:
Yes. Whenever I’m working on a piece – especially a narrative piece – I really like to immerse myself in the characters. So, for instance, with Romeo and Juliet, I feel like I need to have a little cry for some of them to really understand them.

And with The Great Gatsby, I got really drawn to George and Myrtle. I just felt they were so downtrodden, especially George. He’s such a tragic figure. He’s really a victim of the era and the broken promises of the American Dream.

Once I started to understand what those characters go through, I did have my little cry – and that’s when I knew it was right. I knew there was an emotional core to the story, something strong to hold onto.

That moment – when George shoots Gatsby, and then himself – I think it’s incredibly tragic. And that darkness is something I always respond to.

I love the light too, but it’s when you see that balance between light and dark that I get really excited. Because then it’s not just fun 1920s cigarettes and Martinis – although there’s plenty of that! But when you know the characters have a real drive, real stakes – that’s when it becomes truly interesting.

When you’re structuring a narrative, dramaturgically, you need balance. You can’t have good thing after good thing after good thing. You need the highs and the lows.

The Novel’s Emotional Subtext

Alexander Meinertz:
The novel is also known for its very internal, almost meditative atmosphere. How do you convey that emotional subtext, which is so strong in the book – and also the narration, particularly through Nick Carraway?

Arthur Pita:
Yes, that emotional subtext, that’s something I think dance can convey really well. Because it’s an abstract form, and it’s expressed through the body. You can find a movement language that expresses what the characters are feeling, without using words.

In a play, you might have an aside, like in Shakespeare, where the character can speak directly to the audience. In opera, you might get an aria, where a character sings about their inner life in this beautiful, elevated way. And I think dance offers something similar, those reflective, emotional moments can really come alive.

For example, we have Gatsby alone in his bedroom, looking at his reflection. It becomes a moment about identity. Through movement, he can really go through something—this person alone with himself, revisiting his story. That’s always exciting, because then the material almost writes itself. If we know what the character is feeling – if George is feeling something, if Nick is falling in love – then we have a clear emotional direction.

It’s never easy, of course, but it becomes easier to start imagining the movement. If it’s about a character falling in love, the dancer knows intuitively: there’s lightness, buoyancy – they can run, arabesque, jeté, tour… it’s all the bubbly stuff.

But if a character is down, like George, then we find a different movement language, something more grounded, maybe even the opposite of what Nick might express.

So I really think emotional subtext is something dance is uniquely suited to.

And as for narration, that was a big question. With Nick, I had to decide: is he the narrator, or is he a character who’s actively experiencing everything?

I felt that having him come out with a book at the end would be a bit too on the nose. So I leaned into the idea of Nick as an ambiguous figure. In the book, he talks about Gatsby with such admiration, almost hero worship. There’s even a suggestion that he might be attracted to him.

I did quite a bit of research on that, because you also notice that things don’t really work out with Jordan. There’s this flirtation, but it never quite becomes something real.

And the 1920s were such a charged time for sexual experimentation. People were exploring so much more freely, especially in cities like New York and Paris. Women were cutting their hair, getting rid of corsets, having sex before marriage, which was a big shift. There was also a kind of liberated energy in terms of homosexuality, which was being more openly expressed in certain circles.

So I wanted to place Nick right in the middle of that swirl. We explore the idea that he has a real crush on Gatsby, a kind of late sexual awakening. He turns 30 in the story, we know that because at the hotel, he suddenly remembers it’s his birthday. And I thought, well, here’s this man from the Midwest, from a more conservative background, who comes to New York and undergoes a transformation.

So in that sense, I didn’t want to strictly make him a narrator, even though he sees a lot. I wanted him to live as a character. He’s the visitor. He’s the one who arrives. And eventually, he’s the one who leaves.

That gives us a nice framing. He comes with his suitcase, he has this big experience, and then he leaves. But he takes something with him, something much deeper than just what happened with Gatsby. It’s his first love, his awakening, and it’s all shaped by the period he’s living through.

A Foreshadowing of Fate

Alexander Meinertz:
Fascinating, I look forward to seeing that on stage. As I mentioned, I haven’t seen much of your work – just a few clips on YouTube – but from what I gathered, you often lean toward narrative pieces?

Arthur Pita:
Yes, mostly, yeah.

Alexander Meinertz:
And you seem drawn to a kind of surrealism as well?

Arthur Pita:
I am, definitely. Somehow it just ends up heading in that direction. I don’t even know how, it just happens.

Alexander Meinertz:
Will we see that element in Gatsby too?

Arthur Pita:
Yes, always. It just naturally starts to appear. I think when you’re doing a narrative, you’re taking the audience on a journey, and with dance, that’s even more important to get right. There’s nothing worse than watching a dance piece where you haven’t got a clue what’s going on. So I try to keep the main road clear, you know, the narrative track.

But along that road, I like to take little detours, side roads. And that’s often where the surrealism comes in. Those are the interesting places, creatively.

Sometimes it’s even practical. Like, we need to change a scene, or the curtain needs to come in, and you start asking, “What can happen in front of the curtain while that’s happening backstage?” And from that, a character might appear – something symbolic, something dreamlike – and suddenly the surreal starts to take shape.

It’s happened again in Gatsby. I never plan it, but these kinds of figures always show up. I think of them as premonition characters, almost ghostly, or Faustian. It’s something dance can do very well – this sense of foreshadowing or fate.

And The Great Gatsby is a perfect story for that. It feels like a premonition in itself, a warning, just before the crash of 1929. You feel the corruption and greed building, and then boom – the world turns upside down.

So yes, those premonition-like figures have appeared in my other works too, and one has emerged in Gatsby as well. I’m excited to see how that character will evolve.

Designing Gatsby: A Two Year Process

Alexander Meinertz:
How long have you been working on this piece? You’ve obviously been preparing it for quite a while.

Arthur Pita:
It’s probably been about two years. That’s usually how long the process is from the moment you start thinking about it, working with a designer, with a composer, assembling the team. A house this big needs that kind of preparation time.

Alexander Meinertz:
Have you worked with the set designer, Gary McCann, before?

Arthur Pita:
No, this is our first time working together, and I’m really excited about it. He’s mainly worked in opera, it’s actually his first ballet. But he’s got a wonderful process, and a really strong vision.

He’s quite a decadent designer, and I mean that in the most complimentary way. And I felt that was exactly what this story needed. I mean, of course, you could stage The Great Gatsby with two chairs and a bit of smoke, absolutely. It can be done simply.

But for this production – for what Nikolaj and I were aiming for – I always think about it from the audience’s perspective. I imagine myself sitting in the theatre, watching. And with Gatsby, there’s a certain expectation, a kind of lushness that you want to see come to life.

So that’s the direction we’ve gone in.

Alexander Meinertz:
And the music: did you define how much you needed in advance? Like in the Petipa-Tchaikovsky tradition: two minutes of Charleston, followed by a tritone?

Arthur Pita:
Oh yeah, it’s absolutely worked out down to the second. The composer, Frank Moon, who I’ve collaborated with a lot, has done all the arrangements of the Gershwin, and he’s also composing original music, particularly for the Valley of Ashes.

Because Gershwin didn’t really write much dark material. You can darken it a bit, sure, but most of it is champagne bubbles, pure New York, pure America. So striking that balance was interesting.

I’d say about 80% of the score is Gershwin. Of course, all the hits are in there, and part of the challenge was figuring out how to use them in a fresh way. Gershwin’s music is very economical in its construction – those lovely recurring themes in the Preludes and the Concerto in F. It’s great for the audience to hear something return, but in a different context.

There are also moments where Frank’s music blends with the Gershwin, overlapping and creating something new. So you get the full jazz world: the hits, the more theatrical orchestral pieces. And then you get this layered, darker world from Frank, which adds a lot of atmosphere and tension.

We’re definitely living in a jazz world, a sound design world, and also in Frank Moon’s darker, textured musical landscape.

Creating Physical Vocabulary & Character

Alexander Meinertz:
So the key characters, how do you develop a physical vocabulary for them? Do you use choreographic motifs, like you mentioned with the music?

Arthur Pita:
Yes, it’s a really interesting process. When working with a ballet company, you’re actually quite restricted on time. You do a lot of prep, but then you might only get two weeks with a few of the principal dancers, and then you’ve got four weeks with the full company to really build the piece.

Alexander Meinertz:
And how long will the piece be?

Arthur Pita:
Two hours. One hour per act, with an interval. So it’s a substantial work, but not too long.

Of course, if you’re doing a three-hour ballet, you’d need more time, but realistically, I don’t think today’s audiences want to sit for five hours. I mean, you can do the German version of things…

So you have to be really crafty with how you generate material. There’s that saying: it takes a day to make a minute of choreography. If you’ve got an hour per act, that’s 60 minutes. But in reality, you’ve got maybe 20 days or so. So you have to be clever.

I work in different ways depending on the moment. Sometimes, like with Gatsby and Daisy, I’ll say: Okay, this is the bedroom pas de deux. I want it to be in a classical language, romantic, intimate. It’s post-coital, they’ve just had great sex, and now it’s later in the evening. Maybe she’s thinking of going home. He wants her to stay. So we lay out the emotional landscape.

Then I look for instinct. I might say, Let’s lift Daisy off the bed, she’s pulled toward the window. And then it starts happening. Ryan [Tomash], who’s a fantastic dancer, might take Caroline [Baldwin] and do something, and I’ll say, Yes, that’s it! Then we build from there.

Other times, like with the George character, played by Schonan [Greve] or Oliver [Starpov] – I might be in another room, working with the ensemble. So I’ll give them a very clear task. I’ll say, This scene is about George falling into the dust of the earth. He’s crumbling, lost inside himself. He’s obsessed. He feels the eyes of Dr. Eckleburg watching him, judging him. He’s a man who’s just giving petrol to the wealthy, and they’re taking everything from him. He feels like a failure.

I’ll say, Make a four-eight phrase about that, and they’ll go off and create something. Then I’ll come in, look at the material, and start molding it on their bodies. I’ll say, That’s great, let’s keep this, let’s shift that. I’ve got two very different dancers, so I’ll adapt the material to suit each one. That’s another method.

Then there are things like the showgirls, we have a lot of showgirls in this piece, and Myrtle is one of them. I knew exactly what that vocabulary had to be. So I’ll stay after rehearsal, work in front of the mirror, and create showgirl phrases. They’re not simplistic, but they need a clarity. A kind of polish, with perhaps a complexity in the arm patterns or how the head moves.

Then I’ll record that, and I can teach it directly to the dancers.

So it’s not just one method. You have to be incredibly organised. When you walk into that rehearsal room, you need to know exactly what you’re doing. If you’ve got a room full of dancers, you have to be able to say, Okay, we’re doing the foxtrot. During this, Gatsby meets Nick. This scene is happening. You need to cross here, you two interact there…

It’s like a dream that you’re orchestrating.

You also have to count the music, stay on tempo, and work quickly. But at the same time, you have to follow your instincts and create a space where the dancers can do the same. You don’t want them just waiting for instructions. I’ll often say, You’re here, where does your body want to go? Or, How can we solve this moment together?

So it’s very much a two-way process. The dancers bring their instincts, I bring mine, and together we build the world.

It’s a Balanching Act

Alexander Meinertz:
Has anything changed in surprising ways from what you originally planned to what’s now happening in the rehearsal room? Or are you sticking pretty closely to the structure you set out?

Arthur Pita:
You definitely have to go in with a plan, because, honestly, you don’t even have time to change it too much. That said, a few things have evolved. I think the main thing is about layering in enough detail without overcomplicating things.

Sometimes the dance can end up hiding the character, and sometimes the character can overshadow the dance. So it’s always a balancing act.

But yes, there have been a few surprises, especially with George and Myrtle. There were some early choices I made that really shaped how their scenes developed. For instance, I didn’t want to use pointe shoes for Myrtle. There is pointe work in the ballet, in the more classical sections, but I wanted the characters to feel like real people, human beings in period clothes, not stylised 1920s flappers on pointe.

So we chose to use heels for Myrtle, which created something interesting when it came to duets, especially between her and George. That material developed into something I feel really happy with. It created a physical language that feels distinct from Gatsby and Daisy, whose relationship is much more classical, more traditionally romantic.

Because Gatsby and Daisy’s love story belongs to an earlier time. The ballet might be set in 1925, but their romance goes back, maybe to 1898 or somewhere around then. So choreographically, they hold on to that older, more romantic world. You can lean into classical ballet there. It has a sort of Louis XIV feel, but filtered through this American sensibility.

It doesn’t feel too formal, but it still belongs to that earlier era.

Whereas with George and Myrtle, their problems are more modern. You could put her on pointe, and that would be fine, but it felt more interesting to let her walk. I’m always interested in how a character walks, because when you put someone on pointe, the way they walk changes. It becomes something else.

Alexander Meinertz:
That’s fascinating, especially in light of the historical evolution of ballet technique. Take Bournonville, for example, so much of his work is now performed on pointe, but that wasn’t the case originally. He was very clear: you only dance on pointe if you’re a spirit or a supernatural being. If you’re human, you stay grounded.

It was consistent across all his ballets, though it’s often changed now in modern productions. And in La Sylphide, James doesn’t dance in the first act – he’s just in shoes. He only dances when he enters the dream world of the sylph.

Arthur Pita:
Ah, really? That’s beautiful. So he only dances once he’s in that other realm, once he flies.

Alexander Meinertz:
Exactly. It was all very deliberate and clearly defined.

Arthur Pita:
And I completely relate to that. It’s something you constantly come up against when you’re working with ballet.

What’s interesting with pointe work is, I really only love it when the ballerina is actually on pointe, fully dancing. But when you get to a scene where she has to walk around or act, suddenly it pulls you out of it a bit.

For example, in the bedroom pas de deux, we’ve had a lot of discussion. Maybe it’ll even change once we get to the stage. But for now, I made the decision that I didn’t want her on pointe. I wanted to show two people having an intimate moment after sex: she’s barefoot, in her underwear, coming out of bed.

I love that her shoes are by the bed. And at the end of the scene, she can take her shoes and her fur coat, and leave the space.

Now, maybe it’s the wrong decision. I keep watching that part and thinking, Maybe it would be better if she were on pointe. Then you’d get that full balletic effect. But for now, I want the audience to believe she’s just been in bed with him.

Alexander Meinertz:
It reminds me again of La Sylphide. In Act I, the only character on pointe is the sylph. All the Scottish girls are in heeled shoes, just walking normally. But when it was first staged at the Bolshoi – in the 1960s or ’70s – they put everyone on pointe. They just couldn’t handle the idea of dancers not being on pointe! And the Danish reaction was outrage; they felt the whole meaning had been destroyed.

Cultural Distance & The American Dream

Alexander Meinertz:
So, shifting a bit, we’ve touched on this already, but you have this multicultural background: South African, Portuguese, based in London. And you’ve said you’re very drawn to Americana, and that you’ve spent a lot of time in the U.S.

Is there a personal resonance for you in the themes of The Great Gatsby? Or is that more difficult? I’ve always found Gatsby a hard novel to really relate to myself.

Arthur Pita:
Yes, and I completely understand that. I think it’s even harder to relate to now, in some ways.

And it’s so opposite to a Danish – or a Scandinavian – mentality, isn’t it? The kind of showy excess in the novel is really the opposite of that cultural mindset.

In South Africa, though, a lot of the television we had growing up was American. We had shows like Dallas, Dynasty, and all the classic sitcoms. So I grew up with this strong American influence – particularly in the 1980s, when those shows were all about wealth and glamour and the dream of America. We didn’t really have much British television.

So I think I always had this idea of the American dream, this kind of iconic, aspirational view of it. The first time I visited the U.S., I went to Los Angeles. And it was just incredible, the size of everything, the indulgence, the sense of scale.

Then arriving in New York… it really is like the movies. The steam coming out of the manholes, the energy. It really feels like a place where dreams happen.

So I’ve always been drawn to it, and I think that’s true for many of us, culturally, because of film and TV. American culture is so globally influential. It was definitely a big influence on me.

And I’ve always loved American stories. I just did A Streetcar Named Desire with another company. I love Tennessee Williams and all those great American writers. I feel like I can access their world, the mindset, the emotion.

But I’ll admit, the first time I read The Great Gatsby, I didn’t fully grasp the social commentary. I saw it more as this romantic tragedy, Gatsby’s passion for Daisy, his heartbreak over not being able to have her. It felt like the whole thing was about him not getting the love he so desperately wanted.

But the more I read it, again and again. I started to see how Fitzgerald was really placing these characters into a very specific time. The 1920s, when greed and corruption were flourishing. That’s the world Gatsby’s caught up in.

And what’s interesting is that Gatsby didn’t really care about the parties. He threw them purely to attract Daisy. It was all for her. That’s where his obsession lies, he’s trying to recreate something he’s already lost.

And that obsession is a bit unhealthy, really. He’s chasing something he can never truly have.

Then you look at the broader context: the Declaration of Independence, which promises liberty and the pursuit of happiness for all. After the First World War, there was this massive economic boom. People started making huge amounts of money. And Gatsby becomes a kind of victim of that moment, he uses the corruption of the Prohibition era, bootlegging alcohol, to build his fortune.

Everyone wanted what they couldn’t have, alcohol, love, status. Gatsby embodies all of that.

And I started to realise: greed and corruption have always existed, since biblical times, but something unique happened in America during the 1920s. It was the first time where it felt like, You can do this, and no one will stop you. You’ll even be rewarded for it.

If you look at America today someone like Trump only exists because of that legacy. You can trace it all the way back to the 1920s. We know, for example, that when Trump first started out, he worked with Roy Cohn, that lawyer who helped him break into real estate. And even that connection came through corruption.

And that’s exactly what Fitzgerald was writing about.

Once I started to see those links, between Gatsby’s world and the current state of things in America, it became even more fascinating to me. That’s why I think Gatsby is a kind of premonition.

It reads like a warning.

Yes, the romanticism is there, but it comes from a desperate place. And to be honest, I’m not sure it would have worked out between Gatsby and Daisy. Maybe they’d have a passionate few months… and then what? Maybe it would all just fade away.

Seeing Gatsby From Where We Are Today

Alexander Meinertz:
Yeah, it’s interesting because it’s impossible to talk about the American Dream and The Great Gatsby now without thinking about where we are today. Maybe we’re only just starting to see it clearly.

Arthur Pita:
Yes, completely. Because now, it’s showing its true colours. It’s no longer something that feels attainable.

Maybe, once upon a time, if the American Dream had really been about the pursuit of happiness – if it meant someone growing potatoes, selling them at the market, and feeling fulfilled by that – then maybe it could have been real. You build a simple life, add a few more bricks to your house, and that’s enough.

But then of course, it becomes about wanting a bigger house, a bigger car… and it spirals from there.

Alexander Meinertz:
Do you think a Danish audience will pick up on those ideas when they see your production?

Arthur Pita:
I don’t know, I’m really fascinated to see how it lands with a Danish audience. It’s interesting because when I try to talk about this with my American friends, many of them are so upset with what’s happening in their country right now, they don’t want to go deep into it. It’s too raw.

With Danish audiences, it’s different. I think, culturally, there’s some distance – and also, right now, there’s a lot of tension between Denmark and America. There’s frustration. America is a big ally, but with everything Trump did, wanting to buy Greenland, pointing fingers at Denmark, it’s created friction.

So showing American flags onstage right now has a different resonance. It feels loaded.

We’re not making a comment on Trump, though. The piece isn’t political in that sense. But it is commenting – like Fitzgerald did – on the American Dream. And ultimately, the biggest tragedy in Gatsby is that no one came to his funeral.

That’s the heartbreak. Here’s this man who gave and gave – people came to his parties, they fed off him, they took what they wanted – and in the end, he didn’t get what he wanted. He didn’t get Daisy. He died misunderstood, and alone.

And he was killed by someone impoverished, George, who was acting out of grief and desperation. Gatsby came from poverty too. He was never truly accepted by the upper class.

So there’s deep tragedy there. I think Fitzgerald was saying: if the American Dream were real, Gatsby would have died surrounded by people who loved him. But instead, no one showed up. Everyone just moved on to the next thing.

Alexander Meinertz:
Maybe that’s the perfect place to end the interview. But just one last question though I think you may have already answered it: What do you hope people will take away from The Great Gatsby?

Arthur Pita:
I hope they come away with a deeper understanding – through the narrative – of the human condition. And the irony of life. The things we can’t change about ourselves. It’s inevitable.

You could probably set The Great Gatsby in biblical times, and the story would still work. Because it taps into something universal: desire, jealousy, greed, passion, identity, the need for self-worth. It deals with sexuality, power. these are themes that just keep resurfacing. They run through us, generation after generation.

So hopefully, the audience will feel that. They’ll see the tragedy – and the irony – and recognize something true about us all.

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About Arthur Pita

Arthur Pita is a British-based choreographer with theatrical approach to dance known for his imaginative adaptations of literary works. Born in South Africa to Portuguese parents, he trained at the London Contemporary Dance School.

He began his career as a freelance professional dancer and later joined Matthew Bourne’s New Adventures, performing both ensemble and lead roles internationally. In 2003, Pita shifted his focus to choreography.

His productions include Metamorphosis (2011) for Edward Watson of The Royal Ballet, The Little Match Girl (2013), The Mother (2019) for Russian ballerina Natalia Osipova, and A Streetcar Named Desire (2022).

His work is often accompanied by original music composed by long-time collaborator Frank Moon, and is known for its emotional depth, visual richness, and dramaturgical clarity.

See arthurpita.com for more.