The Artists: Oh, the View from Up Here; How Nancy Smith turned a childhood love of dangling from trees into dance

Nancy Smith,  founder of Frequent Flyers Aerial Dance Company, confessed that the movements of animals or bugs don’t really influence her aerial dance choreography. However, one can’t help but see a caterpillar’s fate in her story. As someone trained in traditional dance, grounded with balance on the balls of their feet and control in the core of the body, her focus has changed. All it took was a workshop with Bob Davidson Colorado Dance Festival in 1987, and Smith was transformed. Her love of dance lifted off the ground into controlled flight. In 1988, she founded Frequent Flyers, an aerial dance company located in Boulder, and has been teaching classes and putting on performances ever since.

A brief history of aerial dance

The art of aerial dance has roots stretching back about 2,000 years into China’s history, connecting it to circus arts like aerial trapeze. However, the modern take — taut cloth hanging from the ceiling, people binding themselves within it, holding the body in  shape, and swinging in patterns through the air — evolved from “the postmodern movement” in the late sixties. “There is some circus influence, but at the time, it was more about people pushing the boundaries of what dance is,” Smith said of the art form’s origin. As previously featured dancer Helanius J. Wilkins” was inspired to express himself through movement from his experiences with childhood fear, Smith had a childhood love of climbing trees and swaying from limbs that guided her to aerial:

“I had been working with a company in Seattle dancing, moved to Colorado, and one of the people had started doing dance trapeze. I saw a show and immediately said, “That’s it. That’s what I want to do.”

“There is some circus influence, but at the time, it was more about people pushing the boundaries of what dance is,” Smith said of the art form’s origin.

However, it takes more than desire to become an aerial dancer. Smith shared the technicalities of transitioning from a traditional, grounded dance to aerial dance:

“It’s much more use of the vertical space. I will sometimes tell the students imagine the space is like a chemistry beaker. You’re trying to fill the entire beaker, not just the bottom few milliliters. You’re trying to be inside every part of this beaker. With aerial you can be up against the ceiling, and you can be swinging to the side in a way you can’t do even with another person lifting you.

“And, then, it’s the sensation, being off the ground and swinging and flying and climbing. I spent my childhood in trees and spinning until I got dizzy and fell down. “

For Smith, aerial dance has become the perfect marriage for all those feelings.

The discomfort of evolution

When training new students, she echoed a phrase uttered by high school football coaches around the globe: “Are you hurt, or are you injured?” While the line might prompt a chuckle for its seemingly tough tone, Smith emphasizes the importance of making that distinction:

“There’s discomfort and then there’s pain, the type of pain that says, ““I’m injuring myself.” And we try to help them understand the difference. Over time, your brain stops telling you it hurts, like hanging by my knees. If I had not been in the air for a long time, I’m like ““Ahh man, I forgot how much this hurts.” Then the next thing is: I don’t feel it anymore. At some point your body will tell you that you’re not being injured by this. You don’t need to keep sounding the alarm. Plus, for the thrill of being upside down,what’s a little discomfort?”

I had been working with a company in Seattle dancing, moved to Colorado, and one of the people had started doing dance trapeze. I saw a show and immediately said, “That’s it. That’s what I want to do.”

When teaching aerial dance, Smith ensures students are comfortable with the transition. As human beings lack wings or the ability to make a web, transitioning into a state of being that requires a person to move in a completely different space — feet off the ground and now dependent on silks dangling from the ceiling. Trust has to be earned. We’re not natural flyers.

“The interesting thing about aerial, especially teaching it to other people: you know people bump up against their fear all the time. It starts with your feet on the ground, but the next part of it is comfort with being upside down.

“[There’s] lots of hands-on spotting, a lot of queuing as to where to go in space, but you’re always training it on the ground first. Let’s say you’re going to do a straddle in the air, which is basically like splits. You practice it on the ground. You roll back onto your shoulders to feel what it’s like to invert into that position. Building strength in your core, then you translate that strength in the air.

“Even in cases where many students enter the studio walled-up with apprehension, they leave the studio with the sensation of gleefully flying.  Smith said, “It’s a wonderful experience to move past fear into achievement. You can feel quite elated. It gives you this feeling of elation and accomplishment.””

So many words for snow

Coincidently, the theme of transformation is central to the next major piece the Frequent Flyers are currently working on: snow. For the Frequent Flyers, the importance of snow is something that they’ve been meaning to turn into a piece of performance art for a while, as one of her performers is also an ice core scientist who travels to Greenland and Alaska:

“So, this particular show is a collaboration with myself, my long-time teacher performers named Valerie Morris, and Issac Endo. The three of us are co-creating a performance that will be at the Dairy. Valerie, her day job is an ice core scientist. She’s had an idea for a long time to do a piece about snow and all the incarnations of snow. Evaporation to crystallization and so on. So, we all agreed — the three of us — that we are going to make a show called “Ways to See Snow.” We’re taking different approaches to what are all the aspects of snow. Valerie, being a scientist, she’s approaching it more like how to depict hoarfrost, for example, physically with the apparatus and making that image come to life on the screen. The work I’m doing for the show is more qualitative. I’m working on a piece called “Thunder Snow.” I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a thunderstorm while it’s snowing, it’s very weird. And, Isaac is doing a piece about how everyone is warm but him.”

“It’s a wonderful experience  to move past fear into achievement. You can feel quite elated. It gives you this feeling of elation and accomplish- ment.”

Smith’s mention of all the different types of snow echoes the grade school story about certain groups within the Inuit culture not only having the language for the types of snow but also having science prove they are correct in the importance of having such distinctions.  From the National Snow and Ice Data Center:

“We all associate snowstorms with cold weather, but snow’s influence on the weather and climate continues long after the storm ends. Because snow is highly reflective, a vast amount of sunlight that hits the snow is reflected back into space instead of warming the planet. Without snow cover, the ground absorbs about four to six times more of the sun’s energy. The presence or absence of snow controls patterns of heating and cooling over Earth’s land surface more than any other single land surface feature.”

This manifests in changing avalanche patterns, influence on global food, migration patterns, etc. — so much power in such a gentle thing. The idea of snow doesn’t evoke the doomsday images from the Book of Revelation. However, snow shares a bond with water, which is a life-giving element as it sustains nearly everything on the planet. But, as nearly every ancient culture has a flood myth, water can be a life-taking element. Snow’s impact is surprisingly vast, and the Frequent Flyers are preparing diligently to showcase the reaches of its complexity.

It’s not there yet

When discussing the future of aerial dance choreography, the topic of artificial intelligence came up because Smith had already experimented with the technology.  She discovered that, while its current state is as bad as it will ever be, it still has a way to go when it comes to informing the world of choreographed dance:

Our last December show was exactly that, [a spoof]. We poked fun at Alexa. We used AI to generate imagery that was projected. It started out, though, by asking AI to choreograph something. I gave it some specific parameters. That’s what got us into the spoof idea because it was so stupid what came out of it. It just wasn’t even interesting.

However, while AI is extremely limited in its ability to create, there are claims that it can help with the finer points of dancing. According to a Dance Channel TV article:

“AI-powered tools can analyze a dancer’s performance and provide real-time feedback on technique, posture, and movement precision. By using motion capture technology and advanced algorithms, AI can create tailored training programs that address individual weaknesses and enhance strengths.”

In other words, when it comes to the craft elements of dance — the angles and shapes the body is meant to make — AI can be useful. However, when it comes to creating a piece of choreography as Smith’s experience has shown, AI still has a long way to go.

It’s never too late to learn how to fly

Transformation, from traditional dance to aerial dance, from apprehensive students to flying apprentices, from snow to water, is at the heart of the Frequent Flyer’s story. Smith’s passion for the performance art of aerial dance comes through in the certainty of which she speaks about it. She knows its power to impact the audience and its potential to transform the performer:

“This is something that appeals to people across all ages and experience. It’s a very accessible art form. And, we teach students from age five to — I have a student who is 74. She started out when she was 70. It is an amazing opportunity to have this in our community. “