When you think of Wyoming, contemporary dance probably isn’t the first thing that comes to mind. Vast plains, rugged mountains, and cowboy culture dominate the imagery—but tucked away in Douglas City, a quiet revolution is unfolding. Here, between the echoes of rodeos and the whisper of wind through cottonwoods, a thriving hub for contemporary dance training is redefining artistic expression in the West.
The Unlikely Oasis
Douglas (pop. 6,300) might seem an improbable home for cutting-edge movement, but that’s exactly what The Foundry Movement Project has cultivated since 2022. Housed in a repurposed 1920s machinery warehouse, the studio’s exposed brick walls and polished concrete floors now witness bodies bending, leaping, and telling stories that blend Wyoming’s raw landscape with global contemporary techniques.
Training Against the Grain
What sets Douglas apart? Founder and former NYC dancer Elise Rowan describes it as “post-urban contemporary”—a fusion of release technique, contact improvisation, and site-specific work inspired by the region’s geography. Morning classes might involve partnering drills mimicking bison herd movements, while evening workshops explore how weight distribution translates to dancing on uneven terrain (a nod to Wyoming’s infamous winds).
The Ripple Effect
Word has spread. Summer intensives now draw dancers from Denver, Salt Lake, and even LA, lured by:
- Micro-residencies with choreographers like Taiko Zhao (known for her work with rural communities)
- Cross-training with local ranchers on kinesthetic awareness
- Improvisation jams in nearby Ayres Natural Bridge Park
Local high schoolers have started integrating Foundry’s movement philosophy into rodeo queen routines, while Denver’s Altitude Dance Fest recently featured an all-Wyoming contingent for the first time.
Why It Matters Now
In 2025, as dance increasingly interrogates its relationship to place and sustainability, Douglas offers a blueprint. The Foundry’s “Dirt to Dancefloor” initiative uses solar-powered studios and collaborates with geologists to study how movement literally shapes landscapes—a metaphor for how small-town arts can reshape cultural expectations.
"We’re not trying to be anywhere else," says Rowan, wiping sweat after teaching a class where dancers balanced on river stones. "The West has always moved differently. Now we’re giving it a language."
Next time you’re driving I-25 past the billboards for dinosaur museums and cowboy coffee, consider the detour. Turn left at the neon antler sculpture, follow the sound of a pianist playing inside a grain silo, and watch what happens when contemporary dance puts down roots in soil most wouldn’t think to till.
