What happens when a group of dancers steps out from behind the role of performer and becomes the creator?
That is part of the idea behind Mosaic: A Choreographic Collective, Metamorphosis Dance’s upcoming performance on October 16–17, 2026. Rather than presenting a single choreographer’s vision, Mosaic brings together original works created by several members of the Metamorphosis Dance company.
The result is a collection of very different voices, styles, stories, and musical influences—all brought together by the same group of artists. For the choreographers, the creative process begins in very different places. Sometimes it starts with music. Sometimes with a personal experience, an image, a question, or even a long-held idea. And sometimes, apparently, it starts in the shower. But as different as their processes may be, one thing comes through clearly: Mosaic is about giving these artists the freedom to discover what they have to say.
It Starts With Inspiration
For several of the choreographers, the music came first. Melanie Kregel’s The Conversation grew from her love of tango. “I love tangos; the passion and intensity of the music lends itself well to so many movement styles,” she explains. The piece also draws on the idea of two people having a conversation, inspired by the roots of tango, while incorporating the theatrical storytelling that has become part of Melanie’s choreographic style. For Lauren Hawkins, the inspiration came years ago when she heard The White Stripes’ “Seven Nation Army.” She immediately imagined “an ‘army’ of pointe dancers and strong, sassy jazz dancers.” As she listened more closely, she began hearing possibilities for another sound and another style: tap. The result is a work that brings ballet, jazz, and tap together in a single piece. “I really enjoy seeing how much the tappers add to the music,” Lauren says. “Watching ballet, jazz, and tap work well together in one piece is very rewarding!”
Other inspiration is more personal. Taylor Alborn’s piece explores the struggle of deciding what is worth fighting for—the choice between trying to save a relationship or friendship and knowing when letting go is necessary to save yourself. For Maya Ronen, choreography became part of a personal journey. Her piece grew out of something she experienced over the past year, and she describes creating it as part of her own healing process. “The music came to me first,” Maya says. “From the moment I listened to the song, my mind immediately started creating the dance.” In fact, the first half of the piece arrived almost completely formed in her mind, “While I was in the shower!”
Nicole Martinez began with an old idea about light but realized she had “out grown the dream, the music” and wanted to explore something deeper. While listening to a French track, the word Luminary suddenly sparked a new vision: movement centered around the idea of passing the torch and legacy. For Danielle Ehoff, the inspiration was rooted in two names familiar to the ballet world: Mozart and George Balanchine. Katrina Kutsch starts in a similarly intuitive place: with music that immediately makes her see movement. “I find a song I like and can visualize movement to,” Katrina explains. But for Katrina, the music is only the beginning. She also thinks about the visual world of the piece before creating any choreography. “Then I think about costumes and how they will move on stage. I keep the costumes we already own in mind and that helps me decide how many people I can cast in my piece. I must know what we are wearing before I can make any movement.”
And perhaps that is one of the most interesting things about Mosaic. There isn’t one definition of what inspires a dance. Inspiration can come from a composer, a pop song, a personal experience, another choreographer, a memory—or simply the feeling that a particular piece of music makes you want to move.
Finding the Movement
Once the inspiration arrives, the real work begins: figuring out how to turn an idea into movement. For these choreographers, music plays a huge role. Danielle describes her process simply: “It’s usually music I’ve already heard and I can easily think of movement. It’s music that inspires me. My movement vocabulary is driven by the music. More classical music inspires more classical ballet.” Lauren also describes her choreography as highly musical. She begins by considering the theme and story she wants to tell and then chooses movement that supports it. “Movement depends on what style of dance I’m doing,” she says. “My favorite style to choreograph is Contemporary Ballet en pointe with very flowy movement.” Taylor takes a more physical approach. After finding a song that inspires her, she looks for the story within it, then improvises to the music in her room to discover the style and movement vocabulary of the piece. For Nicole, the process involves listening, visualizing, moving, and notating. She knew early on that she wanted “undercurves; sweeping movements offset by the sharper accents of the music.” Katrina’s process is equally physical. She can’t simply imagine choreography and assume it will work. “I have to do all the movement full out to make sure it actually works,” she says. “I can’t just choreograph in my head.” Melanie starts with music, too—but then she starts thinking about the dancers. “I think about my dancers and their strengths and styles and work from there to create the movement vocabulary,” she says. “Though I challenge the dancers with movement, I never create without them in mind because they are very important to the creation. They each uniquely influence my pieces.”
That idea is particularly fitting for Metamorphosis Dance, where the company describes its artistic philosophy as a dancer-first model, placing the performers at the heart of the creative process. In Mosaic, the dancers aren’t simply executing someone else’s choreography. Many of them are shaping the work themselves.
What Happens When You Choreograph Your Friends?
There is something uniquely vulnerable about creating choreography on people you know well. These choreographers aren’t walking into a studio with a group of strangers. They are creating on their colleagues, friends, and fellow artists—people they perform beside throughout the season. For Taylor, that familiarity makes the process easier. “I love creating on my peers because they know me so well and can read my mind on how I want my vision to come to life,” she says. “It also makes rehearsals less nerve wracking…” Lauren sees the familiarity as an advantage, too. “I know their strengths, and what kind of movement they like,” she says. “My main priority as a choreographer is to give movement that dancers enjoy dancing. My philosophy is that if the dancers enjoy what they are doing, the audience will enjoy it even more.” Nicole describes her fellow dancers as “beautiful and gifted movers,” and says that casting them reflects the confidence she has in their abilities. “They pick up everything I throw at them swiftly.” For Katrina, however, creating on her peers comes with its own kind of pressure. Because she doesn’t choreograph spontaneously in the studio, she knows she has to arrive prepared. “I have to come prepared with movement. I can’t choreograph on the spot, I feel the pressure of having to complete something.”
That pressure is part of the challenge of stepping into the role of choreographer. The dancers are no longer simply colleagues in the studio—they are trusting each choreographer to lead them into something that doesn’t yet exist. And yet, that is also what makes Mosaic so interesting. These artists aren’t just learning how to create movement. They are learning how to communicate their ideas, lead a room, make decisions, collaborate with their peers, and ultimately trust what they have created. That trust between choreographer and dancer seems to be one of the quiet themes running through Mosaic. The choreographers know their dancers, but the dancers also know the choreographers. There is an existing relationship in the room—and that relationship becomes part of the creative process.
The Best Moments Aren’t Always Planned
Ask a choreographer about the finished product and they might talk about the music, the movement, the story, or the dancers. Ask them about the creative process, though, and some of the best moments are much more unexpected. For Melanie, it is the “happy accidents”—those moments when something doesn’t happen quite as planned and turns out to be better than what she originally imagined. “Maybe the timing I envisioned was different than when it was executed, but it’s actually better.” For Taylor, one of the highlights has been experimenting with partnering alongside her dancers and discovering new steps together. For Lauren, it’s watching the dancers “jam out” to the music and seeing the different styles begin to work together. For Nicole, the joy has come from watching her dancers embrace movement that may be different from what they are accustomed to. “Seeing them embrace a different way of moving has brought me great joy.” For Danielle and Katrina, there was a very specific milestone:“Finishing the piece!”
After all the music choices, costume decisions, movement experiments, rehearsals, revisions, and the pressure of trying to bring an idea to life, there is something incredibly satisfying about finally reaching the end. Maya’s favorite moment is still ahead. “I’m really looking forward to seeing the piece from beginning to end for the first time,” she says. “I think that’s one of the most exciting parts of the creative process, and I honestly can’t wait.”
And neither can we.
A Mosaic of Voices
The word mosaic describes a work made from many individual pieces that come together to form something larger. That feels especially appropriate for this performance. There is classical ballet and contemporary movement. Tango and jazz. Tap and pointe. Personal stories and abstract ideas. Music from Mozart to The White Stripes. Choreography that arrives through improvisation, through careful planning, through years of inspiration—or unexpectedly in the shower. Each work is its own piece. Together, they create Mosaic.
Perhaps the most meaningful part is that these aren’t simply different choreographic styles being presented side by side. They are different people within the Metamorphosis Dance community being given space to speak through their art. Metamorphosis Dance has long championed the idea of developing artists as well as dancers. Mosaic gives audiences the opportunity to see that development from another perspective: not just who these dancers are when they perform someone else’s choreography, but who they become when they are given the opportunity to create.
Come See the Mosaic
Mosaic: A Choreographic Collective takes the stage October 16–17, 2026. It is an opportunity to experience the range of artistic voices within Metamorphosis Dance—and to see what happens when dancers become choreographers.
And Mosaic is only the beginning of the 2026–27 season. Following the choreographic collective, Metamorphosis Dance will present The Nutcracker November 20–22, followed by Cinderella April 30–May 1, 2027, and the annual Ballet Under the Stars June 4–5, 2027.
View the Metamorphosis Dance Season Calendar
We hope you’ll join us—not only to watch the dancing, but to experience the many voices that make up Metamorphosis Dance.