A Thought-Leader In Family & Children’s Dance Classes | Houston, TX
Frame Dance is a thought leader in dance education, inspiring the next generation of movers, makers, and world changers by offering dance classes for adults & children, multi-generational ensembles, professional performances, networking events, and film festivals. We are nestled between West U and the Museum District.
We believe in developing the whole dancer, teaching critical life skills such as creative thinking, leadership, collaboration, and resilience through our artful and playful dance curriculum at our studio and in partner schools.
Our adult modern dance classes are designed to offer you the joy and magic that’s possible when you create space in your life to move, to grow, and to share in the creative process with a like-hearted community.
For more than ten years, Frame Dance has brought radically inclusive and deeply personal contemporary dance to Houston. Led by Founder and Creative Director Lydia Hance, whom Dance Magazine calls “the city’s reigning guru of dance in public places,” the professional company is made up of six acclaimed co-creators committed to collaboration. Frame Dance has created over 50 unique site-specific performances and nine dances for the camera screened in festivals all over the United States and Europe. With an unrelenting drive to make dance in relationship to environment, Frame Dance has created dance works for and with METRO, Houston Museum of Natural Sciences, Houston Parks Board, Plant It Forward Farms, CORE Dance, Rice University, Houston Ballet, 14 Pews, Aurora Picture Show, and the Contemporary Arts Museum. Frame Dance’s productions were described by Arts + Culture Texas Editor-in-Chief Nancy Wozny as “some of the most compelling and entertaining work in Houston.” Creative Director Lydia Hance is a champion of living composers and is dedicated to work exclusively with new music.
You have waited in line questioning, and re-questioning the decision you have just made.
You step out onto the platform until they call your number.
Sitting, waist bar pulled tight, pressing into your guts until you hear the click.
Your inner self screams, “WAIT! I’m not ready!”
No one is listening because the cart begins to glide forward and then up, and up, and… click, click, click! There is no escape. You only have two options. The first, close your eyes and scream or open them wide and take in the view on the way down.
I absolutely dislike roller coasters, but the adrenaline and anticipation has a way of reminding me that I am alive. A re-launch can feel similar. You have taken the time to re-flect and re-evaluate. Now you have two options:
1) blindly continue on into the next hoping you hit the bulls eye or
2) take all the information gathered and propel yourself into the unknown and unexpected with an opportunity to do better than you did before.
At some point, you just have to enjoy the ride or you may end up like me questioning why you started in the first place. Starting to sound a little cliché, right? Then why can such a concept seem so unacceptable? Does ‘enjoying the ride’ mean less work? Does it mean you have all the answers? Again, I profess that receiving my M.F.A did not leave me with a secret portal to all the answers, but it did provide a few profound AHA moments of wisdom that encourage me to continue to learn and grow not only as an artist, but as a member of a much larger community of creatives.
A creative process does not seem to be a linear path, but rather a circular one. Constantly in motion moving from one idea to the next, the RE-process may be what links them all together causing the path to appear linear. I find the one thing that AHA moments and the RE-process have in common is the risk involved. The duh! stick strikes, you have a choice to make and with each choice comes a risk of being right or wrong, good or bad, the best or not the best. No matter how scary a choice may be, I choose to walk into it with my eyes wide open and my hands trembling because the beginning is the best part.
When was the last time you took a personal or professional risk? Was it worth it?
Amy Elizabeth, named one of Houston’s 100 Creatives and Top 10 Choreographer in 2013, is currently an adjunct dance professor and artistic director for Aimed Dance since receiving her M.F.A from Sam Houston State University. Her work has been presented at DanceHouston, Dance Gallery Festival Texas, Houston Fringe Fest and venues throughout Texas, Louisiana, and Arizona. Additionally, she has had the privilege of setting works at Lone Star College, Rice University, Lamar High School and will be working with San Jacinto College Dance Ensemble this fall. Stay in touch at www.amyelizabethdance.com.
I feel confident in assuming that each and every one of us can recall a moment or time period in our lives that influenced the way we think about and approach not only our craft but our daily lives. I am not referring to the small whispers found throughout each day that allow for development or the evolution of the creative process, but the big ones. The AHA moments that come on suddenly and bring about a lasting change. The moments that shake you right down to your very core and make you see things, ideas, concepts in a new light. Most often these changes are recognized immediately as if being hit over the head with a duh! stick, but sometimes the AHA moment may become a process of its own.
I do not feel it would be a stretch to describe graduate school as a series of AHA moments. You are challenged daily to push yourself outside of your assumed abilities, to think in ways you dare not
explore on your own, and to constantly and consistently re-evaluate every decision and choice you make. Graduate school, by nature, produces lasting knowledge that may influence your approach to the craft and your personal life.
Graduate school did just that for me. Upon graduation, I did not walk out the front door with a secret portal to all the answers. I was not magically transformed into this all-knowing dance creature that held the power to full understanding. I simply carried with me a toolbox overflowing with ideas, techniques, approaches, and a new way of looking at two very important ideas.
What is your intention? How do you make that as clear as possible?
There are no right or wrong answers; only clearer choices.
At first glance, you might think these concepts to be automated. If you have taken a composition class, you may have heard these concepts yourself. Seems obvious, right? I not only base my composition course off these two ideas, but encourage my students to find a connection to them in technique class as well. However, I have found the most profound moments are when we take these basic concepts and apply them to our daily lives.
What are some AHA moments that you carry with you? Have you heard my AHA moment concepts before? If so, where?
Amy Elizabeth, named one of Houston’s 100 Creatives and Top 10 Choreographer in 2013, is currently an adjunct dance professor and artistic director for Aimed Dance since receiving her M.F.A from Sam Houston State University. Her work has been presented at DanceHouston, Dance Gallery Festival Texas, Houston Fringe Fest and venues throughout Texas, Louisiana, and Arizona. Additionally, she has had the privilege of setting works at Lone Star College, Rice University, Lamar High School and will be working with San Jacinto College Dance Ensemble this fall. Stay in touch at www.amyelizabethdance.com.
Grad school prepared me for many things. I took a plethora of classes that broadened and strengthened my dance training. I was given choreographic tools and opportunities to test them out. Most grad programs, like the one I attended, allowed the opportunity to teach semester-long courses, or take specialty classes like Dance and Technology and Career Resources. The information, advice, and experiences gained are truly invaluable. While grad school gives the “old college try” in preparing you for the real world, and is successful in many areas, nothing prepared me for the loneliness I experienced after graduation.
Grad school is this beautiful little bubble that is filled with like-minded, passionate individuals that inspire, push and motivate you on a daily basis. I found myself collaborating when I didn’t even know it, or set out to. Anytime I had a new choreographic idea or random epiphany there was always someone there to bounce it off of, and I mean ALWAYS. I knew I would mourn not seeing my fellow grads everyday, but I always thought I would find myself in a similar environment, just with new faces.
Maybe it was naïve of me not to come to this realization on my own. Perhaps being wrapped up in thesis madness made anything that was not specifically stated or covered in class unobtainable at the time. I had been warned about the “adjunct hustle,” minimal pay, commuting, etc. and though hearing about it is much different than experiencing it, I still had an inkling of what to expect. Even when I was hired for the first time knowing that I was the one and only dance adjunct, it still didn’t hit me. It was the first day of school that I found myself feeling like the “new girl” from the movies who eats her lunch alone in the bathroom stall. Every commute was nothing but tears. I had no idea the amount of emptiness I would feel after grad school and was at a loss of how to fill it.
Luckily I have made some progress, some days it feels minimal, and other days not so much. I began picking up the phone more than I ever had, and instead of crying while commuting, I would talk to other adjunct friends. This is where I express my joys and frustrations with teaching. Over the next two semesters, I picked up additional classes at other colleges where friends also taught. As silly as it sounds, I don’t even have to see them; in fact most of the time we aren’t even on campus at the same time, but simply knowing that I am not alone helps tremendously. If I get to see their face, well then that’s just icing on the cake!
Aside from these small strides, last fall I began collaborating on an arts project. While it doesn’t feed my bank account regularly, it feeds my soul. Believe it or not, I find it very satisfying to work on this project without financial concern. It feels like a small, selfish act of kindness that I do for myself. The satisfaction of payday is short-lived in my world because it all goes towards bills and living expenses, so the reward, or “paycheck” if you will, that I receive from the work dedicated to this project is permanent. This project allows me to collaborate a couple of hours a week, which I love, think outside of the box, meet new artists, problem solve, and change lives through art. While I hope this project continues to blossom and can one day have more of a monetary benefit, I am really content with the opportunity and nourishment of the soul.
Just like most things in life, it gets easier with time. About a year ago, I made the decision to stop comparing life now to life in grad school. It will never be the same, and now, 2 years later, I am really glad. If I were to stay a student forever, which I stated numerous times after graduation, I would have never been able to realize what an amazing experience grad school was and the huge impact it would have on my life. Don’t get me wrong, it was difficult and challenging and several days I felt like throwing the towel in, but the same skills I developed in pushing through school are the very same that have helped me find solutions to not feel lonely.
So if you ever find yourself as a lonely artist like I do some days, try one of the following pick-me-ups:
Wipe those tears and pick up the phone! Call someone who can relate to your feelings, or someone you’ve been meaning to catch up with- no time like the present!
Build a new community. Though it may not be ideal or as convenient as ones from the past, something is better than nothing! I am part of an ongoing (and rather hilarious) group text thread with some adjuncts in the area… Facebook groups… really anything that can provide a sense of community, even if it is long distance.
Find your own small selfish act of kindness and make sure to do it! You owe it to yourself. Whether it’s going to take a dance class for enjoyment, playing hooky from work to go see some live art, or something totally unrelated- DO IT!
Most importantly, don’t compare life now to “better” or less lonely times. You can’t change your current emotional state if you’re always looking back…
I have been able to build a new long-distance community, make connections outside of my alma mater, and start a new nest here in Houston.
Photos by Salted Hart Photography.
Laura Harrell is currently an adjunct professor at Houston Community College, Lone Star College, and San Jacinto College. Laura has presented choreography at The Dance Gallery Festival (Texas and New York City), the Fringe Festival (Houston), the American College Dance Conference (adjudicated and gala), and most recently, in the first ever, Art Saves Lives: A Cultural Conversation performance and educational outreach program in Nice, France. Additionally, she has set work at Sam Houston State University, Booker T. Washington High School, Lone Star College, San Jacinto College, and was assistant choreographer for Recked Productions site-specific project, Up For Air. Most recently, Laura presented choreography in the first ever Next Step Series by NobleMotion Dance.
It started when I wanted to see what came up on Google if I typed in “MFA dance programs.” What came up was a list of what are possibly the largest and most well known MFA
programs– and those with their SEO figured out. I sat there staring at the first hit, and then scrolled down wondering which school I should click on first. I clicked, and apparently unclicked my self-confidence. (Could they see me through the screen? Were they laughing at my ignorant query into their top tier elite institution?) That suffocating, diminishing blanket that hovers and squeezes you whenever you walk into an audition came right back over me. I thought I had grown larger than that blanket, but apparently I’ve just felt mostly comfortable for some time. I hadn’t felt that vulnerable exposition in a while.
That little anecdote is really leading to two things:
1) Applying for programs is scary. You are brave. Auditioning is scary. You are brave. Interviewing is scary. You are brave. Doing things where you put everything on the table– where you go all in– and might not get anything back is terrifying. I’ve known some people to LIVE on that feeling. I, however, want to shrink into the smallest version of myself. I’ve always wanted more courage because that shrinking feeling is the absolute worst. If you’re a shrinker like me, practice putting yourself in places that are scary. People tell you to “fake it til you make it” but I can’t think of too many things more miserable than wearing a false self. So I try to go back to the place where I do feel confident, where I feel like I am my full self, and pull of those things into the new, scary place. It takes some discipline to not let the fears run rampant.
2) Let’s do something that pushes us out of our comfort zones this year. I mean really, actually pushes you. I think we all take some small and fairly safe risks. But it takes courage and motivation to really push yourself. And maybe it’s only one thing this whole year. And I want to know what it is. Share, because you will inspire someone.
As those of us who have worked in show business are well aware “the show must go on.” It is amazing when you think about all that needs to get done in a production like an MFA thesis concert, but miraculously it all happens. This was a helpful attitude to take when I was working on my own concert. I had no idea how all the work would get done, but I knew that somehow it would all come together. And of course it did. Remember this when you are at your wit’s end and about to freak out about not finishing your work for the show. One benefit of having a concert as a final project is that you have no choice but to get it all done. The dates have been set long in advance and cannot be changed. This is one advantage that those seeking other kinds of terminal degrees do not have. I have friends who have been working on their PhD dissertations for years. The have no specific end time so it can be drawn out. We, as performers, have the benefit of having a set date to be done by, a finish line to look towards. When you are in the thick of it and your life has consisted of this crazy schedule for years it is hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel but remember grad school is not real life. Your concert and your degree will happen. Hang in there!
The project is still a part of the learning.
While your final project is a reflection of your overall work in graduate school it is still a part of the learning process. There is this sense that Continue reading →
How much is my career worth? How much is my art work worth? When is it ok for me to ask for expect compensation for my services?
These are questions that I struggle with almost daily. And I’m willing to wager my small salary that many of you struggle with these same, or similar, questions at various points in your artistic career. Why is that? What is the cause for this dilemma? And when did it become O.K. to divert our attention from addressing these questions by saying, “Oh, you do it because you love it”?
Before I go any further, I want to say that I feel very, very fortunate for my current situation and for those experiences and situations that have led me to where I am. I realize that few opportunities to do what I do exist, and to get paid to do those things is sometimes unreal. And I love what I do. But I don’t ever recall this to be a reason that we not pay someone for their work. Returning to our questions above, the reasons could by many: too little funding, it’s a great experience, I don’t have a budget, and many others that we could compile over a few glasses of wine I’m sure. And while these all might be true and very valid, I would like to throw one (or two, depending on how you look at it) more in the mix that I find often unacknowledged: you and me.
That’s right. We are sometimes the cause of our own problems, especially in this situation. I say this because we, as performers and makers and teachers, perpetuate this problem of not paying artists when we participate in this cycle. We do it because we have no other option. We do it because we want to be involved in this love affair at whatever the cost. We do it because we know that if we don’t, someone else will…and for free. We do it because we want that, that right there, on our CV. You know, so when we decide that we’re marketable or valuable we’ll have more artistic weight to throw around. And that’s the magic button- we decide.
HJ: What do you think will be the most challenging aspect of the MFA program for you?
LAS: Remaining engaged will probably be the most challenging aspect of the MFA program for me. I tend to have a short attention span when it comes to long-term projects or being in one environment or city for too long. Three years is a long time. Being present for the entire journey could be a difficult task for me.
HJ: What do you feel that you have to offer the dance world that no one else has?
LAS: I am very attuned to minor details. Although it may not always show in the process of rehearsing and performing the works of other people it is apparent in my own choreography. Details such as slightly disparate angles of the head or placement of the hands or contractions of the body between various dancers involved in my work cause me to pause a rehearsal to make adjustments. I find meaning in details like gesture and body language and breathing that others may not interpret or include in their choreographic process. This observation and criticism of detail has allowed me to improve my teaching skills, make interesting decisions with choreography, and to pick up differences in movement techniques and styles at a solid pace. I cannot say that this is something that only I can offer to the dance world, however it is unique and leads me to study choreographer’s who express this same attention to detail.
HJ: Is there something in particular that you feel burdened to create work about, or do you cull from various subjects (and if so, what piques your interest)?