You can never tell with b-boys.

Especially in an age of Internet fanboyism and YouTube addiction, there is an ever-growing disparity between the b-people you see online and the ones you meet in “real life.”

Even more unhealthy is the tendency for online “fans” to try and compare the two versions of a dancer.

That one guy with the super dynamic trailer? Could be bland in real life. Crew with decent sets online? Maybe they’re explosive in person. The one with the super clean runs on YouTube? Surprisingly sloppy in the cypher. The cat that looked huge on screen? Actually pretty short when you stand next to him.

It’s something that drives most better-known b-boys crazy. How, they often ask, can you expect to know somebody just from watching a few seconds of pixelated video of them dancing? It’s just not fair.

Focus of Flow-Mo Crew, on the other hand, doesn’t let it faze him. He’s, well, focus-ed on more important things.

“I am what you see when you see me dance. That’s me,” he explains, sitting in a parking lot in Rotterdam holding a plate of food.

The fresh-faced b-boy’s neatly cuffed jeans and unstained t-shirt don’t betray the fact that he’s just finished teaching an hour-long workshop. It’s a calm collectedness that sticks with him throughout the weekend, even as he competes in the Street Science Generations Battle and judges the World B-Boy Classic.

“I’m not one of those guys who dances in a different way than they are in real life,” he continues. “That’s me on the floor every time I dance, you know?”

It’s one of the most striking things about this b-boy from Helsinki, Finland. Judging from his aggressive battle style and short stature, aforementioned Internet-fanboys might expect this 26-year-old to be a brash hothead with a Napoleon complex.

Au contraire, mon frère. In the same way that his runs are swift and clean, everything about Focus – from his syntax to his clothes to his interactions – seems consistently calculated and deliberate.

His English is crisp. His words are pointed and well thought out. He even chews like he’s already planned the chicken’s route down his esophagus.

“I’m not one of those guys who dances in a different way than they are in real life. That’s me on the floor every time I dance, you know?”

It’s that same intentionality applied towards b-boying that’s gotten him noticed around the globe. If Focus’s dancing is a window into his character, meeting him in person or just peeking at his blog (which only hints at his vast knowledge of hip-hop history) serves as a step into that character – a character with a deliberate approach to noticing and appreciating the details.

“A lot of people these days are getting cocky. They don’t want to present themselves in the position of a student,” Focus says. “What makes Flow-Mo – what makes my crew – is we always learn from everybody else. Everywhere we go, we always learn. We flip everything and make it on the next level. That’s what defines Flow-Mo.”

It’s a habit that seems to have been ingrained in Focus ever since he first began dancing in 1995. For his first four years of dancing, his only resources were threefold: one b-boy from Finland’s ‘80s scene, Beat Street, and Wild Style. Focus and company pored over the tapes, trying to understand what was making the magic happen, literally studying each movement. As his dancing progressed, he began to make b-boy pilgrimages around the world, allowing his travels to become his teachers.

“I think after a rough start like this, with no Internet, no YouTube, or anything like this, it’s obvious nowadays. We appreciate the information that we had before a lot more,” he says.

It’s a sharp contrast from the fast food mentality of b-boys who want to get big quick and cash out.

For Focus and his crew, the nourishment that b-boying provides isn’t a quick sugary snack. It’s a well-balanced meal, with each bite carefully planned out and slowly savored. The flavor is there, but it’s meant to sustain and not just to entertain.

In tangible terms, this means Focus and his family keep their moves well-rounded. This is a man who is just as likely to throw airflares in a run as a set where he pretends one of his feet is stuck to the ground.

“The power is getting all the attention, but the real people with the real thirst for knowledge – they’re not getting the attention at all,” he laments. “The power is crazy. Some tricks are crazy. But the other aspects are not too strong, to be honest. I like to see all the aspects on the same level. When it comes to toprock, to footwork, everything, the character – everything should be on the same level.

“Everybody’s only focusing on getting ill power moves or ill tricks. And you even have whole events for this kind of style. But still I think all the other elements need to step their game up and get what they deserve.”

“There’s so much music, and it’s a limitless source for energy, for motivation, for inspiration, for creativity.”

But what exactly is it that the other elements – and the dancers themselves – are deserving of? Focus isn’t implying fame or victories. He waves off a question about what upcoming events or short-term goals he’s set his sights on. It seems that Focus’s scope works on a much larger scale.

“It’s not about one event or two competitions or a battle. It’s about finding yourself in a dance like this,” he says. “I wanna see my crew still active after 10 years. That’s the main goal for me: longevity. I know everybody’s gonna get injured and stuff like this. But I still wanna see them develop their style in a way that is good for their body as well. To still keep on going with the same passion and the same heart as before.”

But it’s still an uphill battle. Even though b-boying has equipped him to see the world, b-boys and b-girls still don’t get the recognition from the hip-hop community that is given to MC’s, DJ’s and aerosol artists. Even within the b-boy community, flash-in-the-pan stunts with good marketing still tend to grab the spotlight before committed contributors get the respect they deserve.

Focus has no qualms with admitting that he relies on a triad of inspirations – similar to his initial foray into b-boying – to motivate him to continue studying and dancing.

“Music, first of all,” he says. “There’s so much music, and it’s a limitless source for energy, for motivation, for inspiration, for creativity.”

“My crew. I see everybody developing all the time, and I don’t want to be left behind,” he says, laughing.

He can’t be blamed – Flow-Mo is becoming a household name among session spots worldwide, and like Focus, crewmates Hatsolo and Taya already have their own unofficial e-fan clubs.

It’s taking some getting used to.

“Sounds spooky,” Focus says, laughing between bites of food. “I get a lot of weird e-mails from different weird countries. And I don’t understand a word. But it’s still weird to see. I started breaking in small village of 8,000 people next to a small city – from this in the middle of a forest. From this circumstance, how can you get to having people knowing your name in Thailand or Korea or Japan? I don’t understand it.”

And his third source of motivation?

“Everybody I meet,” Focus says. “Every time I meet my friends, everybody gets better. So I need to practice to stay on the same level, you know?”

With all that training and study, it’s no surprise that there’s little time for anything else, especially when it comes to external factors like shit-talkers.

“There’s always people who talk shit,” Focus says. “Whatever field of life, if you get success, there’s going to be people talking shit about you. To me, that’s obvious. I don’t really pay attention to that.”

Of course not. He’s not called Focus for nothing.

But there’s no time to dwell on haters now, especially since the interview is wrapping up, and he’s returning his attention to his meal. After all, Focus seems determined to stay simultaneously hungry and nourished enough to make his meal at the b-boy table one that will last. And that’s something that should be obvious even to the laziest of YouTube viewers.