It begins in a converted warehouse in Indianapolis, a high school auditorium in Fort Wayne, a cleared-out living room in Bloomington. The myth says contemporary dance is a coastal phenomenon, born in downtown lofts and polished in international festivals. But here, between the cornfields and the interstates, a different kind of practice is taking root—one defined not by lack, but by a distinct and potent sense of place.
Finding space where you can. Photo credit: Imagined.
The Geography of Resourcefulness
To make contemporary work in Indiana is to become a master of resourcefulness. Your studio might be a community yoga center after hours. Your collaborators are often the musician teaching at the local university, the visual artist with a gallery downtown, the poet from the nearby coffee shop’s open mic. This necessity breeds innovation. The "scene" isn't a handed-down structure; it’s a network you weave, thread by thread, across county lines.
There’s a freedom in this. Without the overwhelming weight of established, monolithic institutions, the work can start from a more personal, urgent question. What does it mean to move here? How does the rhythm of a Midwestern season—the slow unfurling of spring, the dense humidity of summer, the stark quiet of a snow-covered field—infiltrate the body’s phrasing?
Community as Curriculum
Your education happens in fragments and deep dives. A weekend workshop with a touring company at the University of Notre Dame. A masterclass from a stalwart of the Indianapolis ballet world, revealing the connective tissue to your contemporary exploration. Hours of self-guided research, streaming global performances, and the invaluable, sweat-soaked laboratory of regular, dedicated practice with a handful of committed peers.
This patchwork learning creates dancers who are thinkers, historians, and advocates out of necessity. You learn to articulate what you do, not just execute it, because you might be the one writing the grant, introducing the piece, or teaching the next class.
The Strength of the Specific
The temptation can be to make work that screams “Look, we’re relevant! We’re just like New York!” But the most powerful work emerging from Indiana now does the opposite. It leans into its specificity. It incorporates the vernacular—the posture of waiting, the gesture of harvest, the weight of industrial history. It finds the universal in the gravel road, not by ignoring it, but by examining its dust on your skin.
Audiences here are perceptive. They may not have a lexicon of postmodern theory, but they have a profound radar for authenticity. They can feel when a movement is honest, when it speaks to a shared experience of this landscape. That connection—raw, immediate, and in the room—is the greatest reward.
The ensemble built from community. Photo credit: Imagined.
Building the Bridge, Not Waiting for the Invitation
The path isn’t paved. You create the opportunities. You apply for the local arts council grant. You partner with the independent bookstore for an immersive performance. You turn a First Friday gallery walk into a moving installation. You document your work and build your digital presence, connecting with other artists in similar landscapes across the Midwest and the world.
The practice, then, becomes twofold: it is the daily cultivation of physical prowess and artistic voice, and it is the parallel cultivation of context—building the very world you wish to dance within.
So, to the dancer in South Bend, the choreographer in Evansville, the mover in Muncie: your practice is not a lesser version of something happening elsewhere. It is the core of something vital. It is contemporary dance because it is of this time, and it is crucially, unmistakably, of this place. The work is not about transcending the geography, but about digging into it, finding its unique pulse, and letting that rhythm move you.
