This article was originally published in the May print issue of Mustang News.
A single door remains unlocked past hours on the north wall of the SLO Public Market.
Little more than an animated LED sign perched on the sidewalk outside marks what lies beyond the glass membrane. Most of the room lies dark, motionless. But immediately to the left past the entrance, a trickle of people — all clad in semi-formal attire and red smiley-face wristbands — descend a dimly lit staircase.
A muffled ‘son clave’ beat drifts through the basement leading up to the source: Kláve, Nexus Ballroom’s underground Latin dance social. Dancers gather every Friday night from 10 p.m. until past 1 a.m., jiving to salsa, bachata, some cumbia and occasionally merengue in this studio space designed to cultivate human connection through dance.
The Latina-owned ballroom features a dance event every night of the week, with ballroom and West Coast swing on Mondays, Latin dance on Tuesdays, Country two-step on Wednesdays and tango on Thursdays. Students and community members come back week after week; the space is open to everyone, no partner required.
“We’ve brought together a really divided and fractionated dance community,” Alicia Aragon, the founder and co-owner of Nexus said. “Of course the dance community existed before us. But I feel like we’ve kind of brought them all into one place.”
The word “nexus” itself means “a connection or series of connections linking two or more things” serving as a constant reminder of how it all started, according to the studio’s website.
As the room fills at the beginning of Kláve, a man in crisp leather shoes calls out in Spanish as he shuffles toward the lounge area on the far side of the studio. He sets down a medium Domino’s pizza topped with sausage and veggies. Noticing a newcomer, he holds out a slice:
“Pizza?”
Lina Baldenegro, a microbiology sophomore and regular at Kláve, eyed the pie while its owner was whisked away to dance. Baldenegro finds her people in these social events, typically connecting more with those that choose to spend their Friday nights out dancing rather than at a typical college party.
She waited in the lounge area for her favorite leads to arrive, the people she knew would give her a good dance. A woman with short hair pinned back in a white rose clip outstretched her arm and smiled at Baldenegro.
Balenegro’s sneakers matched the swift pace of the woman’s red 2-inch heels. After some footwork, swaying hips and a mesmerizing twirl or two later, she returned.
“That was us just having fun,” Baldenegro said, settling back into the lime green sofa and kicking her feet up on the coffee table.
The real dancing doesn’t come until later. But that’s the fun of the changing songs, rhythms and partners, she said, because each dance is different.
“It’s like a snowflake,” she said.
To the uncultured eye, the quick feet and fleeting movements appear as a semi-synchronic chorus of limbs, equally mysterious and enchanting. Baldenegro compared the experience to watching gymnastics, an utter enigma to those who don’t understand the mechanics. But once people start learning, they catch not only the explicit moves, but also the subtle push and pull between the partners’ hands.
This tension, this connection, is what drives the dance forward allowing improvisation and artistry. It’s also what makes partner dances like salsa incredibly intimate.
“Salsa and Bachata are very close, affectionate partner dances,” Baldenegro said. “I didn’t grow up with that, so dancing has been a way for me to learn how to show people I care about them.”
Aragon, the owner, is very interested in the intersection of psychology and movement expression. No other sport activates as many parts of your brain as partner dance, engaging you even further when you do it with another person, she said.
Through her years of competitive and social dancing, Aragon researched culture through art movement. In every culture across countries and languages, moving your body to music has been a way that people expressed themselves, she said — even connecting people that don’t speak the same language.
“Movement is one of those innate things that humans do,” Aragon said. “It unites us in a way, dancing is something that bridges us.”
Computer engineering senior Luis Magaña began teaching two-step and country swing at Nexus on Wednesday nights after Cal Poly’s Line Dancing Club stopped offering lessons in June. Already familiar with the Aragon and the ballroom, he asked if he could keep teaching as a professional instructor.
At his parents’ wish, Magaña grew up dancing Salsa, Bachata and Merengue starting at nine years old. He grew into it and competed in folklórico throughout high school, but he said he didn’t truly fall in love with dancing until he came to Cal Poly and joined Line Dancing Club. Dance for the sake of dance is what hooked him into the social scene.
Part of the perks of teaching at Nexus is attending other lessons for free, leading to a mix-and-match type crossover that helps instructors connect with the different dance styles, Magaña said. He takes advantage of this based on his workload and schedule, favoring different lessons each quarter.
At the Latin dance nights, Magaña often finds himself in conversations using his first-language Spanish. He meets other first-generation college students or those who immigrated from Mexico like his parents did. For many, dance is a new way to embrace their culture.
It’s their “why,” Aragon said, or what motivates them to come out.
Thus, the instructors at Nexus work diligently to preserve the integrity of every dance, teaching not tango, but Argentine tango, for example. If a student at Nexus moved to Argentina, they would maintain the same level of tango by local standards, Aragon said.
Seven instructors teach beginner and intermediate levels of two different but related styles of dance on their respective lesson days. Often on their own time, they develop robust three-month curriculums to teach specific skills every week, leaving their students with a comprehensive knowledge base.
Magaña and Latin dance instructor Joe Emenaker expressed bits of imposter syndrome teaching alongside nationally ranked teachers such as ballroom instructor Chris Elwood and Latin dance instructor Ed Paxton — who Emenaker described as “the godfather of salsa in this town.” Emenaker took his first ever salsa lesson from Paxton over 12 years ago on a date. Even after his date eventually ghosted him, he never stopped going to salsa.
As a new instructor, Magaña said Aragon became his mentor, constantly supporting his journey as both a teacher and a dancer.
Just a few weeks ago, Magaña gave line dancing and two-step lessons at the annual Cambria Country Festival. Aragon said Nexus subsidizes its staff to attend conferences and competitions that will deepen their knowledge of dance.
When Aragon first moved to SLO, she didn’t find any central dance space for adults, so she started one.
Building the physical space of the studio, she incorporated three main components: The event space, the lounge and the dance floor.
The event area serves as the location for tables, chairs and food during the many weekend events Aragon puts on to bring all the dancers together, such as the upcoming two-year anniversary Prom.
The lounge is an intentional space filled with conversation starters and an unwritten invitation for dancers to relax.
Then there’s the dance floor, one of the largest expenses going into opening a dance studio. Aragon spared no expense putting in a red oak fully-sprung floor describing it as “gorgeous,” “beautiful” and Nexus’ “claim to fame.”
Just nine months after opening, last January’s storms pounded the Central Coast and floods plagued the city’s lowest areas, including the ballroom’s basement location. At least two inches of standing water saturated the dance floor.
Wiping the tears welling under her mascara, Aragon remained moved by the community that rallied so diligently around the studio during its time of need, whether it was donating money toward Nexus’ new dance floor, volunteering to help with flood clean up, or helping with de-flooring and re-flooring.
“It proved the hypothesis in a lot of ways that people wanted this,” Aragon said. “They wanted the opportunity to connect with each other — that we made something bigger than just ourselves.”