{"id":265611,"date":"2026-04-13T14:23:17","date_gmt":"2026-04-13T14:23:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us-ca\/265611\/"},"modified":"2026-04-13T14:23:17","modified_gmt":"2026-04-13T14:23:17","slug":"tracy-phillips-building-a-world-one-door-at-a-time","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us-ca\/265611\/","title":{"rendered":"Tracy Phillips: Building a World, One Door at a Time"},"content":{"rendered":"

There are those who arrive in life with a plan, and others who arrive with instinct. Tracy Phillips<\/a> seems born with both. What she has built in Los Angeles did not emerge from a single ambition or prescribed trajectory, but from something quieter\u2014and perhaps more enduring: a compulsion to create.<\/p>\n

I was introduced to Phillips by the formidable triple threat Sharon Ferguson<\/a>, who urged me to see her show at the Roosevelt Hotel<\/a>. It was my first encounter with Phillips\u2019 work, and I was immediately struck by her ingenuity. Until then, I had no idea that a full-length, Vegas-style production existed in the heart of Hollywood. What unfolded was an immersive world\u2014rich in theatricality, costuming, cinematic sensibility, and special effects.<\/p>\n

\""Down<\/a><\/p>\n

\u201cDown the Rabbit Hole\u201d \u2013 Photo by Zak Agha.<\/p>\n

The scope was striking. This was not simply choreography, but a fully realized narrative layered with invention and visual imagination. Her reimagining of Alice in Wonderland unfolded through a lens of variety, burlesque, and contemporary storytelling, revealing an artist with a distinctive voice and a clear command of spectacle.<\/p>\n

Sitting across from her, there was no trace of self-importance. Phillips speaks with a grounded ease, almost understating the scope of her accomplishments. Only in the telling\u2014piece by piece\u2014does the architecture of her career emerge.<\/p>\n

She began, as many dancers do, very young. \u201cI started dancing when I was three,\u201d she says, \u201cand I knew even then that it was what I wanted to do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\""Down<\/a><\/p>\n

\u201cDown the Rabbit Hole\u201d \u2013 Photo by Zak Agha.<\/p>\n

Her early life was defined by movement\u2014not only in dance, but in geography. The daughter of an NFL coach, she grew up in a constantly shifting landscape: New Orleans, New Jersey, Colorado\u2014each leaving a distinct aesthetic imprint. Ballet in New Orleans. The sharp, stylized influence of Fosse in New Jersey. A competition-driven, commercial sensibility in Colorado.<\/p>\n

The result was an education shaped by multiplicity. This eclectic foundation would later surface in her work\u2014fluid, stylized, narrative-driven, and resistant to easy categorization.<\/p>\n

At eighteen, she moved to Los Angeles. Like so many dancers of that era, she entered through well-worn channels: scholarship programs, agency representation, commercial work. She trained at The Edge, secured representation with Bill Bole, and began working steadily in music videos, commercials, and film.<\/p>\n

\""Down<\/a><\/p>\n

\u201cDown the Rabbit Hole\u201d \u2013 Photo by Zak Agha.<\/p>\n

But even as she moved through that system, something else was unfolding. \u201cI was choreographing at the same time,\u201d she says. \u201cI didn\u2019t really think of it as a career yet. I was just\u2026 doing it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her earliest choreographic experiments began long before Los Angeles. As a teenager, she and a dance partner would remain after studio hours, waiting until the building emptied. Using the headlights of a parked car as their only source of light, they would create\u2014two young dancers, illuminated by borrowed light, shaping movement in the dark.<\/p>\n

\""Down<\/a><\/p>\n

\u201cDown the Rabbit Hole\u201d \u2013 Photo by Zak Agha.<\/p>\n

The shift from instinct to opportunity came unexpectedly. A piece she created for the first Choreographers Carnival\u2014set to Tom Waits\u2019 Pasties and a G-String\u2014caught the attention of choreographer Fatima Robinson, who approached her afterward and asked to work together.<\/p>\n

It was a turning point, though Phillips resists framing it that way. \u201cI wasn\u2019t thinking, \u2018I want to be a choreographer,\u2019\u201d she recalls. \u201cI was just inspired to make something.\u201d<\/p>\n

That sense of organic evolution defines her career. Rather than waiting for permission within established structures, Phillips began creating her own. Early shows took place in clubs and nightlife venues\u2014spaces not traditionally associated with concert dance, but rich with possibility. Drawing from burlesque, theater, and commercial dance vocabularies, she developed productions that were stylized, narrative-driven, and grounded in strong performers.<\/p>\n

\""Down<\/a><\/p>\n

\u201cDown the Rabbit Hole\u201d \u2013 Photo by Zak Agha.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve been doing shows in L.A. for over twenty years,\u201d she says. \u201cI just felt compelled to create.\u201d<\/p>\n

What distinguishes her work is not only its aesthetic, but its integration of disciplines. Costume, film, choreography, direction\u2014each element forms part of a unified vision. While she readily acknowledges her collaborators, the throughline remains distinctly hers.<\/p>\n

\u201cI try not to get complacent,\u201d she explains. \u201cEach show\u2026 I push a little further.\u201d<\/p>\n

That drive led her to the Roosevelt Hotel, where her productions found a more permanent home. But even that opportunity arrived in an indirect\u2014and telling\u2014way. She had long envisioned her work in that theater. The breakthrough came not through a formal pitch, but through an invitation to teach a burlesque class as part of a women\u2019s workshop in the space. She accepted immediately.<\/p>\n

\""Down<\/a><\/p>\n

\u201cDown the Rabbit Hole\u201d \u2013 Photo by Zak Agha.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think they offered me two hundred dollars,\u201d she says, laughing. \u201cBut I knew\u2014I just knew\u2014I needed to be in that room.\u201d<\/p>\n

That decision led to an introduction to management and, ultimately, to a residency spanning multiple productions.<\/p>\n

A pattern emerges in her story\u2014not aggressive pursuit, but acute recognition. An ability to see the opening and step through it without hesitation. \u201cI don\u2019t always know how to go after something,\u201d she admits. \u201cBut when the door opens\u2014even a little\u2014I walk through it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her creative process reflects a similar balance of structure and openness. She arrives with a clear concept\u2014music, narrative arc, and visual framework but allows choreography to emerge in collaboration with her dancers.<\/p>\n

\""Down<\/a><\/p>\n

\u201cDown the Rabbit Hole\u201d \u2013 Photo by Zak Agha.<\/p>\n

\u201cI cast people for who they are,\u201d she says. \u201cEach character has its own movement language. I want to see what they bring.\u201d<\/p>\n

It is a method that requires trust\u2014both in her performers and in the unknown. But it allows the work to breathe, to evolve beyond preconception.<\/p>\n

As her productions have grown more complex, so too has her interest in storytelling. Increasingly, she is drawn toward larger narrative forms. \u201cI think I\u2019m moving toward directing a musical,\u201d she says. \u201cThat feels like the next step.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Tracy<\/a><\/p>\n

Tracy Phillips \u2013 Photo by Zak Agha.<\/p>\n

There is also the question of scale. Her current work\u2014particularly Down the Rabbit Hole<\/a>\u2014has the visual and theatrical vocabulary to expand beyond Los Angeles. Las Vegas, she notes, would be a natural fit. Perhaps beyond.<\/p>\n

For now, she remains where she has built her foundation\u2014continuing to create, refine, and imagine.<\/p>\n

In a city notoriously unstable\u2014where industries rise and fall and opportunities vanish as quickly as they appear\u2014Phillips has done something quietly extraordinary. She has created continuity. Not by resisting change, but by absorbing it. Not by following a path, but by making one.<\/p>\n

And perhaps most importantly, by holding fast to the thing that began it all: the simple, persistent urge to create something where nothing existed before.<\/p>\n

Written by Joanne DiVito for LA Dance Chronicle.<\/p>\n

Featured image: \u201cDown the Rabbit Hole\u201d \u2013 Photo by Zak Agha.<\/p>\n

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