At 7 p.m. on Mondays, the basement of the Brickerville Community Center shakes with the sound of heels striking wood. Upstairs, the library's evening book club doesn't seem to mind. Down below, a dozen students of varying ages stand in a semicircle, watching instructor Elena Vargas demonstrate a llamada—a commanding call to attention, arms sweeping like wings, feet firing off a volley of precise, rhythmic stamps.
"¡Olé!" someone shouts from the corner. Vargas grins without breaking stride.
This is flamenco in Brickerville: intimate, physical, and increasingly impossible to ignore.
How a Spanish Art Form Landed in a Midwest Basement
Vargas, 42, arrived in Brickerville fifteen years ago with two suitcases and a pair of handmade flamenco shoes from her native Granada. She had planned to stay six months. Then she taught a single workshop at the Community Center. Twenty people showed up. Ten asked when the next class would be.
"I thought, maybe there is hunger here," Vargas says. "Not just for the steps, but for the duende—the spirit, the struggle inside the dance."
That hunger has grown into a scene. Today, flamenco classes run four nights a week across three local venues, with instruction in dance, guitar, and cante (flamenco singing). What began as one woman's stopover has become a small but dedicated ecosystem of students, musicians, and regular performance opportunities.
What to Take, Where to Go, What It Costs
For newcomers, Vargas teaches Flamenco Basics every Monday from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Community Center. Drop-in sessions are $18; a ten-class card costs $150. No shoes? No problem—beginners start in socks or hard-soled street shoes. Vargas recommends waiting until week three before investing in proper flamenco footwear.
On Wednesdays, the Intermediate Flamenco class meets at the Arts Pavilion from 6:30 to 8 p.m. ($20 drop-in, $165 for a ten-class card). Here, the focus shifts to more complex footwork patterns, arm placement, and the critical skill of listening—to the guitar, to the singer, to your own internal rhythm.
For musicians, guitarist Tomás Ortega leads a Flamenco Guitar Workshop on the first Saturday of each month at the Pavilion. Ortega, who accompanied Vargas on her first Midwest tour, breaks down the intricate compás (rhythmic cycles) that underpin the dance. The workshop runs three hours, costs $45, and accommodates eight students maximum.
Ages range widely. Vargas's current roster includes a 14-year-old preparing for her first tablao performance and a 67-year-old retired accountant named Margaret Chen, who started at fifty-five and now performs at the annual festival.
"I was looking for exercise I wouldn't quit," Chen says. "I found something I can't imagine living without."
The Brickerville Flamenco Festival: Dates, Details, and How to Get In
The scene's centerpiece returns next month. The Brickerville Flamenco Festival runs March 15–17 at the Arts Pavilion, featuring workshops, open rehearsals, and three evenings of live performance.
This year's headliner is Seville-born dancer Ana Morales, making her only Midwest appearance of 2025. Morales will teach an advanced masterclass on Saturday morning and perform in the Saturday gala, which begins at 8 p.m.
Practical details: Workshop registration opens February 1 at brickervilleflamenco.org. Gala tickets are $35 in advance, $45 at the door. The Friday and Sunday performances are pay-what-you-can, with a suggested donation of $15.
Beyond the festival, flamenco maintains a year-round presence. Monthly peñas (informal gatherings) at Café Lola on Main Street offer students a low-stakes environment to perform. A rotating cast of local guitarists and singers keeps the accompaniment fresh.
Why It Matters Here
Flamenco is not native to Brickerville, and Vargas is deliberate about honoring its roots. She lectures annually on Andalusian history. She brings in visiting artists from Spain when funding allows. She corrects students who call flamenco "Spanish tap dancing."
"But I also tell them," she says, "that flamenco belongs to anyone willing to feel it honestly. The grief, the joy, the defiance—you don't need a Spanish passport for that."
The defiance, in particular, seems to resonate. Several students mention the appeal of an art form that asks them to take up space, to make noise, to insist on being heard.
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