The Choreographer's Dilemma: Credit, Ownership, and Power
The Invisible Author Problem
Walk into almost any major music video, Broadway theater, or viral TikTok dance trend, and you're watching the work of a choreographer. Yet for decades, these artists have remained largely invisible—credited in fine print if at all, often compensated as work-for-hire with no stake in what they've created. The dancer performs it. The artist releases it. The choreographer moves on to the next gig.
That power imbalance is starting to crack. Choreographers like Parris Goebel (who worked with Rihanna and The Weeknd), Ryan Heffington (Sia's longtime collaborator), and Alvin Ailey alumni working in commercial spaces are increasingly demanding—and getting—real recognition, meaningful fees, and a voice in how their work is used. But the industry infrastructure hasn't caught up. The conversation about choreographer rights remains fragmented, fought on a project-by-project basis rather than through industry standards.
Where the Money Actually Goes
A music video budgets millions. Lighting, production design, cinematography—every department has established rate cards and union standards. Choreography often gets a fraction of that, sometimes carved from the director's budget or treated as a add-on rather than a primary creative force. In theater, choreographers typically receive a royalty per performance and upfront fees, but those rates vary wildly depending on the production's size and the choreographer's leverage.
The real friction point: intellectual property. When a choreographer creates movement for a commercial project, who owns it? In most work-for-hire arrangements, the client does—meaning the artist or label can license that choreography elsewhere, recreate it with different dancers, or re-edit it without the choreographer's involvement or additional compensation. Unlike a songwriter (who retains publishing rights and collects every time their song is used), a choreographer typically has no ongoing claim to their own creation.
Some choreographers are now negotiating different terms: residuals if the work is licensed for additional use, credit on the actual release (not just behind-the-scenes), or even co-ownership of the movement in specific contexts. These aren't industry standards yet. They're hard-won exceptions.
The Social Media Wild Card
TikTok and Instagram have created a strange new economy for choreography. A single choreographer can create a trend that reaches millions, spawning countless recreations—each generating engagement and revenue for the platforms and the original artists who perform the dances. The choreographer? Usually seeing none of that trickle-down.
Some platforms have begun crediting choreographers in-app, and a few creators have leveraged viral dances into coaching deals, branded collaborations, or booking opportunities. But there's no standardized revenue-sharing model. A choreographer's work can be the engine behind a multi-million-dollar trend while the choreographer scrapes together gigs on Giglive or relies on secondary opportunities to monetize their visibility.
A Shifting Moment
The landscape is changing, unevenly. Major artists and production companies are starting to see choreographic credit as part of brand value—associating with a known choreographer adds cachet. Directors and producers are recognizing that better-compensated choreographers produce better work. And younger choreographers, having grown up with transparent information about industry rates and contract practices, are less willing to accept invisible labor.
Professional organizations like the Tony Awards now have a separate choreography category. Some agencies are beginning to represent choreographers the way they represent directors or cinematographers. A handful of streaming productions have brought choreographers into the creative room from the start rather than hiring them late to "add movement" to an already-locked edit.
But these are still exceptions. The standard contract for a music video choreographer, an Instagram influencer collaboration, or even a mid-size commercial can still be structured as a one-off buyout with minimal credit. The power imbalance persists because the infrastructure—union contracts, industry standards, established rate cards—hasn't fully professionalized around choreography the way it has around other creative disciplines.
What Choreographers Can Do Now
For independent and emerging choreographers, the practical reality is clear: negotiate for what you can now, document your work aggressively, and build your own platform. Get screen credit whenever possible. Secure portfolio footage before you leave a set. Negotiate residuals or usage limits into your contract. Build relationships with directors, producers, and artists who value your work and want to hire you again—that reputation becomes your leverage.
For those with more clout, the moment is ripe to push for better terms across the board. The visibility of choreography has never been higher. The industry's appetite for dance content has never been greater. The only question left is whether choreographers will collectively demand the recognition and compensation that matches their creative contribution.
