W
hen Lisa Antoinette Herbert opened Instagram one day, she noticed someone new had started following her.
It was an agent from BLOC LA, one of the United States’ leading commercial dance agencies.
A few messages later, she had signed with them.
For most dancers, representation by a top Los Angeles agency is something they spend years chasing through auditions, networking and industry connections. For Herbert, it arrived unexpectedly through social media, opening the door to the next chapter of a career she has quietly built over two decades.
The Melbourne dancer, choreographer and educator has also signed with Kitty Kompound, the online training platform founded by acclaimed Los Angeles choreographer Nicole Kirkland. The opportunity will see her creating choreography and instructional content for dancers around the world while she works towards securing an O-1 visa to perform professionally in the United States.
“It just fell into my lap,” Herbert tells The Indian Sun. “People spend years trying to get representation. I wasn’t even looking.”
The opportunity may have come unexpectedly, but the journey to it began long before Instagram.
Born and raised in Melbourne, Herbert grew up in an Anglo-Indian family with roots in Bengaluru. Like many children, she started dancing at the age of five, trying everything from ballet and jazz to hip hop. By the time she finished school, dance had become more than a hobby.
Her family, however, was not immediately convinced. “I’m the only one in my family who didn’t go to university. The plan was always that I’d do dance first and then study.”
Instead, dance became her career.
She completed a Diploma of Elite Performance and gradually built a reputation across Australia’s commercial dance industry, performing with international stars including Robbie Williams, Katy Perry and Snoop Dogg, as well as appearing in major events such as the AFL Grand Final and the Australian Open.
Looking back, Herbert says one of the biggest challenges was not competition but perception.
“There is this idea that dancers, especially women, have an expiry date,” she says.
That belief became even stronger when COVID-19 shut down the performing arts just as she finished her training.
“People acted like I’d missed my chance because two years had gone by. But I actually became a better dancer.”
Instead of waiting for work to return, she focused on strength training. “I started lifting weights and training like an athlete,” she says. “That’s when my dancing really improved.”
At 27, she believes maturity makes dancers stronger, not weaker.
“You connect with music differently. You understand performance better. You have more control over your body.”
Herbert says working alongside internationally recognised artists also taught her how to handle pressure.
“When you’re performing in front of 100,000 people, or dancing behind someone like Robbie Williams, you can’t think about the pressure. You have to stay present.”
Away from the stage, she has been equally passionate about creating opportunities for others.
In 2024, she founded The Dance Abysss, an industry showcase where choreographers could present original work outside the pressures of commercial jobs and competitions. Entertainment companies, agents and producers are invited alongside audiences, giving dancers the chance to be seen by people who can create career opportunities.
She is now preparing to launch PORTAL, a youth version of the concept for dancers under 21.
Herbert says she wants young dancers to realise there is no single path into the industry.
“Persistence wins,” she says. “There will be quiet periods. Just because nothing is happening doesn’t mean nothing is coming.”
Growing up in an Anglo-Indian household also shaped her work ethic. “My parents were much stricter than my friends’ parents,” she laughs. “At the time I didn’t appreciate it, but looking back, I’m really grateful for that structure.”
As she prepares for the next stage of her career in Los Angeles, Herbert sees it not as a destination but another step in an evolving profession.
“I know I’m not going to be the person dancing on stage forever,” she says. “Eventually I’ll move more into choreography and creative direction. I want to be the person telling the dancers what story we’re trying to tell.”
For now, though, the Melbourne dancer who grew up in the city’s outer south-east is embracing an opportunity that once felt a world away.
Sometimes, all it takes is one unexpected notification on Instagram.
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