Tony Matesi, Courtesy Dance Church

Kate Wallich's Dance Church Classes Are Bringing Joy to Non-Dancers—and New Audiences to Dance

In 2010, Kate Wallich was a 22-year-old choreographer in Seattle, struggling to make dances and, like most young artists, also pay the rent. She had started her own dance company, Studio Kate Wallich, but hated how insular the contemporary dance world felt (dancers were the only ones who came to class or performances).

So she made a bold decision: she opened up her Sunday morning company class to, well, anyone—and soon Dance Church was born.


Walk into a Dance Church class at 10 am on a Sunday morning anywhere in the country and here's what you'll find: dancers and non-dancers of all ages, dancing, jumping, laughing, singing, sweating joyfully for almost 90 minutes straight to music by Beyoncé, Lady Gaga and Cher. (Truly all ages: Though recommended for 14 and up, I brought my 5 year old and there were women in their sixties.)

The "church" part has nothing to do with religion—the name stuck because the class happens on Sunday mornings and because it felt like a weekly ritual.

The experience is far from a traditional modern, jazz or hip hop class: there are no mirrors, no phrases to follow, no anxiety about getting it "right" or looking stupid. The teacher—a trained contemporary dancer with deep knowledge of physiology—is in the middle, guiding you, and the movement goes from all-out dance party (think of the best wedding ever) to elements of a fitness class (jumping jacks, sit-ups).

This focus on joy and openness—and away from the competition of other fitness classes and the dance world—was intentional: "I don't want anyone to feel trapped in technique, in their bodies," Wallich says. "I want to be in spaces of positivity and joy."

There is no pushing, no force. It's not about losing weight or accomplishing more. Teachers will often say, "You can go at 100% or at 5% today—your body knows best."

"It is not boutique fitness," Wallich says. "It's not a culture of 'You made it! You can go harder!' It is not the culture of 'Just go a little more!'" The inclusivity and openness is disarming and freeing—as is the mix of students: computer programmers rub up against professional ballerinas.

Courtesy Dance Church

This was a huge part of the idea, right from its conception: "When you come to Dance Church," Wallich says, "you're supporting dance." The funds from each class go back to the teachers (all independent dance artists) and their companies.

Also, the teachers are building a dance audience from the ground up. "The mission is to connect artists with the public and to create empathetic experiences between artist and the public," she explains. "It's tremendously empowering when a dance artist is standing in the center of room, laughing, sweating and singing with whoever shows up—and then can say, 'You can come see us in a show!' And then some tech guy from Amazon is sitting in the audience and gets to empathize with art-making practice."

Over the last few years, Dance Church has expanded from Seattle to Portland, New York City, Los Angeles and Indianapolis. This growth has happened organically, "through genuine connection and relationships through our work," Wallich says. So when the company tours and meets dancers from other companies, many of those artists become trained in Dance Church methods and start teaching in those cities. "As Dance Church grows and expands, we're looking forward to being able to support more work and artists in each community directly."

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Moving Forward by Looking Back: A Week at the L.A. Tap Festival Online

I turned to tap at the outset of the European lockdown as a meaningful escape from the anxiety of the pandemic. As a dance historian specialized in dance film, I've seen my fair share of tap on screen, but my own training remains elementary. While sheltering in place, my old hardwood floors beckoned. I wanted to dig deeper in order to better understand tap's origins and how the art form has evolved today. Not so easy to accomplish in France, especially from home.

Enter the L.A. Tap Fest's first online edition.

Alongside 100 other viewers peering out from our respective Zoom windows, I watch a performer tap out rhythms on a board in their living room. Advanced audio settings allow us to hear their feet. In the chat box, valuable resources are being shared and it's common to see questions like, "Can you post the link to that vaudeville book you mentioned?" Greetings and words of gratitude are also exchanged as participants trickle in and out from various times zones across the US and around the world.

GO DEEPER SHOW LESS