You are a choreographer, director, and producer with a strongly defined aesthetic. What is your primal memory of a production you saw as a teen or as a kid that made you say, “Okay, this is the world I want to create when I have the funds, the ability, and the performers to do so”?
I’ve always been enamored of opera, mostly because the scale is just usually so enormous, and the things that you can do on those stages are so surprising. So that was a formative thing, seeing opera as a young person. But honestly, the thing I think I have to give credit to is Moulin Rouge! by Baz Luhrmann. It’s such a mashup of different genres, and the way that he used, like, pop music to convey narrative and to convey emotion… I think that was something that really expanded my idea of how you could be a cross-genre artist, so that really shaped me.
Was there a particular libretto, perhaps, that struck you when you were young?
I grew up in Santa Barbara, so my parents would take me to LA to see anything that was touring there. I think we saw a production of La Bohème that I really loved. However, my background is in Baroque court dance. I started studying Baroque when I was 8 years old.
How does that happen? It feels so specific…
I started studying ballet at 5, and then I wanted to get more into acting. In my hometown, there was a French dance historian. There was an ad in the paper for mask work, in a context similar to the Commedia dell’Arte, and my parents signed me up for a workshop with this woman. It turned into basically private study with her. She taught me to read the notation, and we’d reconstruct the dances. So my very formative training was in Baroque court dance, which is obviously super specific and bizarre, and it kind of happened in an accidental way.
When you started Company XIV, in 2006, what was the first iteration like?
We had a small dance studio space in Gowanus where we would do performances. It’s interesting because I basically started the company, and my first goal was just to make an evening-length work: “Can I even make enough material to fill an evening?” It was much more dance-focused at that point, so the performers in the shows were primarily dancers. A few people had special skills, like singing, so I would incorporate that into the show.
I am curious about “work in progress” and the collaborative component in your productions.
I love that the performers are interacting with each other. Beyond the aesthetic value of it, it creates a sense of community within the performers, because they need each other. They’re lighting each other. They help each other with costume changes. They’re all in service of each other and the show. This type of cooperation is such a specific skill set. The company is really not a place where a diva mentality or attitude works, because the responsibility goes far beyond stepping out and doing the one act you’ve been hired to do—singing an opera aria, for example, and then going back to the dressing room. That’s not how the shows are structured, and that’s not the world we’re creating… And you can feel it in the audience, too. You can tell when somebody isn’t on board with that.
Honestly, I have space for the fact that it’s not for everybody. You have to have that old-school circus-vaudeville sensibility that this is a family and a troupe putting on a show. It’s not a giant corporate endeavor. Hopefully that comes through: that it’s something sincere, and that everybody is rooting for each other and wants their colleagues to do well and succeed.
So, before we see all this, how does a show even come together?
It all starts with picking the theme. So it’s usually a classical ballet, a fairy tale, or a myth—something that people are generally familiar with, that then we can take into unexpected places. It really starts with me storyboarding the show. I figure out what the sections are, and what are the themes and the moments that I want to really draw out and focus on. I have an amazing set and costume designer that I’ve been working with for years, Zane Pihlström. We get together and we really brainstorm the world of the show. What are the elements that we are looking to emphasize? We have such a vocabulary now and such a shorthand in how we communicate, and we have such a body of work together after so many years… The fun now is figuring out, “What are the things we are interested in experimenting with? If we know the baseline of the aesthetic of the company?” Because if it’s not new or interesting to us, then it just becomes an imitation of what we’ve already done. I think that that keeps us artistically engaged. We have conversations about whether something is more on the Baroque side versus burlesque cabaret… It’s really deciding what areas we want to turn the volume up on.
Zane and I have a lot of fun trying to figure out new ways that we can incorporate costumes that do things that are exciting to the audience or are unexpected. We really love to come up with obstacles, because I think it makes the creative process more exciting. If everything is easy, then there’s no challenge, and I don’t push myself choreographically or artistically. For Petite Rouge, we get a huge cape in the room, and it’s sort of like figuring out what you can do with it. A lot of it is basically creating challenges for ourselves and then trusting that we will artistically experiment and figure it out, and hopefully it’ll lead to something interesting or cool.
Do you force these challenges or do you let them come to you?
Kind of both, which is a nice dynamic. I intentionally bring things into the room that I don’t necessarily have a plan for, so that we can collaborate and figure out what they’re going to be. Of course there are a million curveballs. For example, we build all of our costumes in a costume shop, and something will come into rehearsal functioning differently than I expected. I have to adapt my choreography or change my expectations, which ultimately always leads to something better than what I originally imagined. Those challenges are important.
If there are people I know I want to work with in the next show, I do figure out what role would work for them, with the prompt “Is there an element [a certain performer] hasn’t worked with before?” It’s the same thing I was describing about challenging myself—I like to do that for the artists too. The people who thrive the most in the company are the ones interested in continuing to push themselves and expand. The people who only want to do the thing they auditioned with generally don’t progress into something more interesting.
You’ve been at this for 20 years. How have you kept the dream alive?
Honestly, it’s really a “one foot in front of the other” kind of endeavor, because if you look at the entire situation, it’s very easy to get scared into not attempting it. I always joke that I’m glad I started the company so early and so young because I had no idea what it meant, which was actually an asset. If I had waited ten years to start the company, I think I would have had much more trepidation about doing it, because I would have understood how complicated it is.
The beauty of having our own space now is that we can really make the work the way we want to and control the environment so it feels special, immersive, and theatrical. But with that comes a lot of logistical challenges. My role has expanded far beyond the artistic part, which is why I started the company in the first place. It’s also about maintaining a space, staffing it, figuring out budgets, paying for the show, and handling all of the practical things that are less glamorous and artistic. That has become a huge part of my life. There’s a lot about it that I enjoy because it’s problem-solving and figuring out how to sustain everything, but it’s certainly not the reason I started it. It’s a trade-off: in order to be able to make the shows the way that they are and to have that experience, you have to have that other part.
In 2017, your company finally found its permanent home at Theatre XIV in Bushwick, after years spent finding a different place for each production. What was the learning curve like, dealing with the more logistical and budgetary aspect of being a producer, a director, and now someone who manages a permanent space?
An interesting thing happened when I first started the company. I started it as a nonprofit because I was trying to follow the traditional route of a dance company, fundraising and applying for grants. But I learned very early on that it was incredibly competitive, and for such a small amount of money, that the time and investment just weren’t worth it.
We’re no longer a nonprofit, and we survive entirely on ticket and bar sales. There’s an element of that that has actually simplified the business, because it really comes down to making something people want to see and will buy a ticket for, and then creating an experience within the venue that makes them want to celebrate and have a glass of champagne. That’s really how the company survives. In some ways, not having to compete with companies like Mark Morris for dance grants has simplified my role a bit.
With a lot on your plate, how do you deal with burnout?
The biggest thing recently has been going to the show as an audience member and seeing people interact with the space and enjoy it. That’s what has rejuvenated me artistically. It makes the administrative work and the difficult planning feel more meaningful, since it all leads to that experience. There have been periods where I’ve been at the venue less, and that’s when I’ve felt more burned out, because I’m not refilling myself or seeing the pleasure that all of the work is leading to.
Theater is ephemeral and exists only for that evening. Every show is different; every audience is different. There’s something about being in the moment, as a kind of theatrical spiritual practice, that helps safeguard against wishing it was something else or in a different place, which we’re all guilty of. There are times when I wish the company was more popular or more known. I think we all have moments in our careers where we wish things were further along.
Do you ever get that feeling that it’s back to square one, when you start on a new production?
Every new show, there’s a moment where I’m like, “Oh, do I know how to do this? How do I run rehearsal?” Even though I’ve done this for most of my life, there’s an element of starting again. I actually think that’s probably a good thing, because if you think you have it figured out, or you think that you fully know what you’re doing, you’re probably in a danger zone, creatively.
Nutcracker Rouge is something we’ve been doing for so long that it always feels like slipping into an old lover that you know very well. It always feels good to go back to.
I remember an interview with a New York City Ballet ballerina who would relish dancing The Sugarplum Fairy, because as repetitive as the choreography might be, it allowed her to finesse technical and artistic aspects she did not have a lot of time to dwell on when tackling new productions. Do you feel the same with your own Nutcracker?
Yes. My favorite thing about Nutcracker Rouge is the final pas de deux. I made that when I was 22, and I’m 42 now. I made it 20 years ago. Going back to it is returning to that earlier work and setting it on different dancers—sometimes new dancers, sometimes people who return and have done it for years, or who take a year off and come back. It becomes a vocabulary that continues to expand and change, even though the choreography is set. It’s also very unique to who the artists are that are interpreting it.
As an artist but also as a person, what do you like about feeling immersed? I don’t think your shows are quite fully immersive, like Sleep No More, where you walk around the whole set… But still, you feel like you’re inside a world with its own laws of physics and lore.
Yeah. I usually use the word “environmental,” because “immersive” usually denotes more of a walking experience, or something where the element of chance and discovery is more present. And of course, there is a stage and a proscenium element in what we do. I love that the experience starts from the moment you walk into the space. I design the cocktails, the drinks are on theme, the performers are bartending. For me, it’s a very special, generous experience, and it’s something I really seek as a patron and a customer, and something I very rarely get. That’s what leads us to want to provide that kind of magical world for the audience.
I don’t know about you, but so often I go to see something in a traditional theater, and while what’s on stage might be great, the experience of the bar, the box office, and security is not in service of the show. The show then has to work harder to transport you or help you suspend disbelief. I’m a real fan of all the senses uniting immediately, and trying to give as cohesive an experience as possible. Louis XIV himself was a dancer. Dance was so much a part of court life. The immersive quality of the spectacles that he would throw—there would be parties that would last 24 hours, opulent feasts with entertainment and new work—were where all of the senses were united. That’s something I strive to do with the company. It’s basically an homage to that way of thinking and that style.
Austin McCormick recommends:
Unfortunately, I enjoy watching the Real Housewives series- something about women screaming at eachother, throwing drinks and going to jail really soothes me. We’ve had the pleasure of having several Housewives as guests at Théâtre XIV and they were always an entertaining handful!
I love a hot bath at the end of a long day of rehearsal, especially using aromatherapy. My mom has an essential oil towelette company called Herban Essentials. I open a lavender towelette and let it steep in the bathtub inhaling the relaxing essential oil and clearing my mind—makes me feel like a giant relaxed cup of tea.
I find having a drink at a bar to be restorative. I love sitting at a bar and having a drink and snack, eavesdropping on conversations—you never know what you will overhear that might spark an idea or reframe your perspective. I like Monkey King’s bar in Bushwick. They have a fantastic vegan dumpling we used to serve at Cocktail Magique and a great margarita featuring Chinese ingredients like Sichuan peppercorn. Yum.
I have gotten into tarot and fortune telling. It’s a wonderful way to check in with yourself and embrace the destiny you want. We’ve developed wonderful tarot experiences at Théâtre XIV and offer lipstick readings. Our resident reader named Rosebud will blow your mind, and often helps guide me in business and romance!
The most important thing I do to stay sane and happy is playing with my adorable mini and toy poodles Macaron and Fortune. Macaron loves cheese and Fortune begs for marmalade. Snuggling with them is the most wonderful thing in the world!
This content originally appeared on The Creative Independent and was authored by Angelica Frey.
Angelica Frey | Radio Free (2026-08-18T04:00:00+00:00) Choreographer, director, and producer Austin McCormick on constantly starting again. Retrieved from https://www.radiofree.org/2026/08/18/choreographer-director-and-producer-austin-mccormick-on-constantly-starting-again/
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