His act comes with a twist

Northampton contortionist says practice involves hard, sometimes painful work, not magical shortcuts

Binghamton University graduate Chris Oakley, 23, gradually meandered from yoga, to self-taught stretches, to full-blown contortionism. (Patricia McDonnell/For the Boston Globe)

Back in the days when the circus freak show came to town, among the snake charmers and nail eaters, chances are there was a contortionist in the big tent - a human pretzel twisting himself into unimaginable bends and turns. There were always rumors, as well, the contortionist applied strange magic potions or snake oils to become oddly limber and distorted. It was a sideshow even the most flexible among the audience couldn't hope to imitate.

It was this mystical world of circus dreams and body drama that lured Chris Oakley of Northampton into the world of contortionism, a place where there is no limit to what muscles and ligaments can do. The Binghamton University graduate is an Asian studies buff who gradually meandered from yoga, to self-taught stretches, to full-blown contortionism: over-splits, head-seats, and other poses that hurt most people just to think about. Oakley then went onto the New England Center for Circus Arts in Brattleboro, Vt., for further contortionism training, "pushing myself to physical and mental limits," he says.

Today, Oakley, 23, is a contortionist who has performed with various touring shows and companies, from Cirque Productions to Nimble Arts. He hasn't hit the ranks of the highly esteemed Cirque Du Soleil, but his competition, he says, consists of Mongolian contortionists, many of whom have been practicing the art since age 5. "I started old for a contortionist, at 18," Oakley says.

So where's your snake oil? I don't see any bottles of it around here.
I wish it was that easy. Contortionism takes a lot of hard work; there are no magical shortcuts. When I first started, I practiced for hours, coaxing my body into different positions. I stretch myself to the max until I'm in pain, and then go back and try again. For splits, for example, I would hold the position even though I couldn't reach the ground. Eventually I could do oversplits, which are splits of over 180 degrees.

Ouch. Do you ever get injured?
Right now I'm nursing a back injury. If I don't warm up enough I can strain a muscle. I've also injured my rotator cuff before.

What do your parents think of your choice of career?
My mom is also worried that I'll break my neck, but for the most part, they think it's an interesting lifestyle. The arts run in my family - my dad is a jazz musician and my sister is a graphic designer, so it's not surprising I'd pick a creative outlet like this.

Your competition includes contortionists from Mongolia, where it has been practiced for hundreds of years. Does this make it tough when you go to audition?
I have the niche of being a white male contortionist, which makes me unusual. This is traditionally a female profession, and it's true that the Mongolians set the standard. Every circus company has them. I try to learn from them and study their style.

What do you do for auditions?
It depends on the audition. When I tried out for one show, Le Reve, created by Franco Dragone, everyone had to do a strength test, such as climbing a rope with your hands only; jumping to show leg power; pull-ups, and more. It can be intimidating.

How much can you make as a contortionist?
It varies, depending on how good you are. The range is between $350 to $2,000 for a five-minute appearance. Or, if you have a two-year contract, you can earn $100 per show. Some freelance circus performers can make $50,000 to $60,000 a year.

Do you constantly need to stretch out your muscles? What happens, say, if you're on an airplane and you're sitting for hours?
In that situation, most people can just stretch out their legs and then they'll feel better. For me, my body comes to expect a full-out stretch to feel good. So I'll go to the bathroom on the plane, close the door, and put my foot on the wall to stretch out so no one sees me. If I don't do that, my joints get all funky, and I can constrict and be in terrible pain. Once you start contortionism, it's best not to just suddenly stop.

There's an element of sexuality in contortionism. Do you ever take advantage of that, in your personal or professional life?
It is easy to sexualize contortionism. My friends will joke about it with me, "why don't you do this position?" But I always try to stay professional.

You never stand on your head in public or do bizarre positions to get attention?
Sure, if I'm with friends and we're all taking pictures, they'll ask me to do some weird pose, and people will stare. We did that at Epcot, where I did a contortion right by the torii gate in the Japan pavilion. People were like, 'that's amazing.'

Can you also fit into small spaces, like Houdini did?
Yes, I can cram myself into a luggage suitcase. I took a promo picture of myself inside a fridge, doing a back bend, holding a glass of milk. That was tough. I almost poked my eye out, trying to get out of there.