Most of the women in Rayn Dance Theatre don’t look like ballerinas.

They don’t move like ballerinas, either. At least, not most of the time.

“I like to see a lot of different kinds of bodies ...” says Rayn Hookala, 31, ASU dance teaching assistant and founder of Rayn Dance Theatre. “I love the movement of the spine and the contact with the Earth; being inverted, being upside-down.”

Hookala, a graduate student in the ASU dance department focusing on choreography and dance company management, has made RDT her graduate thesis project.

“We wanted to come together as a group of professional dancers, but we also wanted to help the community and give back,” Hookala says.

She emphasizes that the company’s dancers run everything, serving as officers and organizers. Some contribute 12 to 15 hours a week to the company in addition to their full-time jobs or studies.

Although their style of modern dance is sometimes criticized for being unorthodox and obtuse, RDT dancers say they enjoy it because it stirs human intuitions rather than relying on the traditional mechanics of dance.

“People get interested in (modern dance) because it appeals to their emotions, instead of just, ‘Oh, that’s a nice trick,’ ” says dancer Tara Tonding, 20, a junior in the ASU dance department. Like several RDT dancers, Tonding came to modern from a studio jazz and ballet background.

“That’s the reason I love modern,” says Laura Steigerwald, 26, RDT dancer and public relations officer and full-time dance teacher at Desert Ridge High School. “As someone who felt I was mediocre at dance ... it was something that gave me the freedom (to perform) ... There are no boundaries.”

Steigerwald says RDT’s choreography is unique because the point is personal interpretation of the movements.

RDT’s pieces mix the amorphous with the amusing. For example, take the exaggerated hipness and pretense of the dancers acting as arthouse cigarette smokers in “Waiting to Inhale.” A more mechanical piece, “Under Deconstruction,” has a workaday feel with motion mimicking chores in a utilitarian manner.

“We do try to make things accessible and we try to make things fun. We have a lot of humor and satire involved,” Hookala says.

With their mission of community service in mind, RDT has reached out to women’s health and breast cancer awareness organizations and is working with Good Samaritan hospitals and local schools to establish dance outreach programs and workshops. Last year the company donated $400 to the Susan G. Komen Foundation, and dancers participate in the annual Race for the Cure event.
Hookala’s interest in these causes was elevated when her dance professor and mentor, Kathy Lindholm Lane, died earlier this year at age 49 after battling pancreatic cancer. A portion of the proceeds from RDT’s concert Saturday will go to the Kathy Lindholm Lane Memorial Scholarship Fund.

In order to offset the costs of their performances, RDT organizes several grassroots fund-raisers each year to pay for costs such as renting the Scottsdale Center for the Arts, costumes, props and rehearsal time. The company also must carry insurance up to $1 million for its 13 members. Grant money can help, but it isn’t something they can rely on as a constant, says Stuart Chandler, 33, executive director.

“Fortunately, we’ve started off at ASU,” Chandler says. “... (We) have our main expense being taken care of for at least the first year.”

Chandler, who is married to Hookala, helps with the business side of RDT. He says RDT hopes to purchase their own practice space for when their time is up at ASU. A practice space would also serve as a storefront of sorts — something concrete and recognizable to the public.

“This year feels like it’s been our biggest transition,” says Steigerwald. “Even though it’s our second year ... I feel like we’re on the brink of doing something bigger.”

Hookala chose the Valley as RDT’s homebase because she sees an opportunity to spark an interest in dance in a city that has not been inundated with companies like New York and Chicago.

“(In Arizona) there’s this great community and amazing dancers. (But) everyone trains here and then they leave,” says Hookala.

“It’s a little hard because it doesn’t seem the Valley is totally ready for it,” she says. “But, you’d be surprised. We’ve found a lot of people who really are. They are hungering for something like this.”