Rachael Bianchi of Flex Dance Company. (Photo by Rosie Chesney)
After a recent rehearsal at the Pacific Arts Complex on Soquel Avenue, several members of the Santa Cruz dance company Flex sit on the ground in a circle. Some have their legs out in a V, or one leg tucked under the other. Rachael Bianchi sprawls across Melissa Wiley’s lap, while Wiley massages her leg for her. Ian Crowell lies on his belly with his chin propped on his hands.
They wear black leggings, little cropped sweaters, colored sports bras, sweat pants and socks. Socks are big. Crowell’s are printed with marijuana leaves. Bianchi’s are pale pink, and Molly Katzman changed hers twice during the course of the rehearsal—rejecting one pair for dragging too much, one for being too slippery, and eventually going barefoot for a while and then putting back on her original pair of socks.
The group is tight-knit, to say the least. They have to be do to the kind of choreography they’ve become known for—visceral, raw and technical, full of lifts and longing, and real connection.
“We’re really in tune with each others’ bodies, which is exciting,” says Katzman, who has a round face and beautiful short hair, thick and curly like the fur on your favorite childhood teddy bear. “Dance and touching other bodies and thinking of the intention behind it, it is healing. And really loving, and that does something in your body.”
Sarah Kocina, tiny and blonde, but impossibly muscular, murmurs in agreement. “I was just thinking of what all of your hands feel like. Like I can—“
“Creep,” laughs Bianchi, who wears black leggings and a Guns N’ Roses t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.
“Melissa knows what everyone smells like!” someone shouts. It’s true, apparently. Wiley, who is tall and curvy and has the strongest off-stage presence (it’s no surprise she’s a teacher at Motion Pacific), announces: “If someone leaves a shirt, I’ll pick it up and be like, ‘oh, that’s Carly’s.’ We should play a game where we blindfold ourselves and we have to take turns lifting a person. I bet we would know everybody!”
Tonight they learned part of a routine they’ll use in their next performance, a burlesque-style show at the Fringe Festival this July. Called “Leather and Lace,” the show is about dating and one-night stands, and the stage will be designed to look like a bedroom.
“It’s a more adult show,” says Leslie Johnson, the group’s 26-year-old founder and choreographer. Johnson is cheery and good-natured, with a wide grin. She arrived at the rehearsal with a slicked-back bun on the top of her head, but halfway through she took down her hair and whipped it around like a great horse shaking her mane in the wind as she danced.
“It’s not a whole burlesque show, so it’s not stripping the entire time. We want to hold very true to what our company is also, which is a very contemporary company,” she says.
Abra Allen, the owner of Motion Pacific—where Flex is the resident company, and several members teach classes—describes their style as “some balls out, fast-paced, technical, high-flying dance that is fun and accessible to all ages, and all types of dance audiences.”
She says the intimacy within the group allows them to take risks on stage that would not be available to them otherwise.
“Flex is more than a company, it is a family,” she says.
Dixie Mills, the founder of the Fringe Festival and a choreographer herself, saw Flex do a couple short burlesque routines at Motion Pacific’s winter cabaret show this year ,and suggested they bring that element to this year’s festival. Their strength is their accessiblity. Their shows are full of “I see what you did there” moments, which can be rare in the more experimental Santa Cruz dance scene.
“Leslie’s much more commercial, she’s very accessible. It’s very athletic. There’s not a lot of thinking involved. You’re not gonna be, like, thinking about social issues. It’s not gonna challenge you necessarily intellectually, but it’s gonna move you,” says Mills.
Bianchi says the burlesque show won’t be too different from how they are on a daily basis.
“We’re pretty flexual,” she says. “We’re just playing it up a little.”
Everyone laughs in agreement.
Psychic Hotline
The members of Flex have endless stories detailing their psychic connections with one another, a phenomenon Wiley simply calls “brain twiddling.” There’s the time the music unexpectedly cut out in the middle of the show, and when it came back, everyone miraculously guessed together where to pick up the choreography again. Or the time everyone was standing with their backs to the audience, and Rachel started the choreography early. Everyone had to decide together, silently, whether to join her or give her an unexpected solo. They chose to let her solo, and claim it looked completely intentional.
Then there’s the time the music went out suddenly for a few moments before the end of a piece, and the dancers all stopped at the same time.
“And it wasn’t a place where you would normally stop. But everyone stopped together, and it was completely in unison,” remembers Johnson. “That was crazy. I was so impressed. It was perfect.”
The group’s impressive and, at times, bizarre synchronicty can be attributed to the way Johnson coaches them. “She says ‘watch each other, pay attention to each other, listen to each other breathing.’ She is asking us to constantly cue into one another,” says Kocina.
As with any tight-knit herd of females, their menstrual cycles are synced up. (Overheard after rehearsal: “Did you start yours yet? No? Well, then, you will tomorrow.”) But in addition, all the members of Flex, including the two males, are greatly influenced by one another’s moods.
“Our energy affects each other so much, like if we come into class and a couple people aren’t having a good day, or if one person is really excited. Everyone gets on board with that and it can either be really great or really horrible,” says Bianchi.
“There was one show where Molly was really, really sick, and so everyone was feeling really supportive, so it was this crazy supportive energy that everyone had toward one another,” remembers Johnson.
“Oooh,” coos Wiley softly. “I forgot about Molly being so sick.”
There’s a pause, and the supportive energy seems to rise up in the room once again, as the group collectively remembers.
“Oh, my god,” says Bianchi, “there was snot flying everywhere.”
FRINGE FESTIVAL
July 11-20
Downtown Santa Cruz
Featuring performances from Flex Dance Company, Astonishing Productions, Antara Bhardwaj, Muse Dance Collective, Humbug Outfit, Mountain Community Theatre, UmGeeUm Improv Troupe, the Yes Girls, Nick Williams Trio, Paul Cosentino, Shakti Bhakti Ensemble, Turning Bone Theatre, Crackpot Clones and many more.
