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A crane at Mez holds the silks on a chain, which can be lowered to the ground, making it easier for the aerialist to hold on and be lifted into the air instead of having to climb 50 feet. During her first performance there, Riley clung to the silks for dear life, the fabric shaking along with her apprehension.
"I didn't know I had a fear of heights until then," Riley says. "With repetition, I've gotten more comfortable." There isn't an easy way to practice for a 50-foot ceiling, but Riley says she adds wraps and layering with the extra fabric in order to make a drop more dramatic or add more tumbles and twirls.
Aerial artists don't work with silks alone. Performances on the lyra, a steel hoop, focuses on flexibility and grace through poses. And then there's the static trapeze and the aerial rope. While QCAA performances are usually solo, Riley and Baroth did a number of tandem shows before Baroth moved away. With Kingsley and some of the other students becoming stronger performers, Riley hopes to have more tandem performances in the future.
"Not everyone wants to be a performer, but for some people, it's just in our blood," Riley says. "The stage is a drug to me. I was an actor/singer/dancer in high school. It's so much fun to pull out pictures and say, 'This is what I do for a living.' We're a special breed of performance junkies. Once you get a taste of it, you never want to let it go."
When you're tumbling 20 feet through the air with only two strips of fabric to save you, fear can easily take over. Riley never asks students to try something out in full effect until they've first mastered it closer to the padded floor.
Riley has one of her students lie down and slowly wrap her legs in the silks to get a feel and vision for what will happen when she is later suspended in the air. After walking through the trick, the student tries it out just a few feet from the ground, rolling out onto the mats to feel how her body will twist and turn. After all, it's easier to fall two feet than fall 15 feet and have the wind knocked out of you.
Practice and precautions ensure that the worst injuries are bruises and fabric burns. Students have their hair pulled back, are free of jewelry and wear long sleeves and leggings to prevent burns on legs or armpits. "You want fitted clothing since you're going upside down and don't want to flash anyone," Riley says.
Liability falls on the performer. While the QCAA is covered for practices by the gym's insurance, Riley asks her out-of-gym performers to get their own entertainer's insurance, which costs about $200 per year.
The idea of wrapping your legs and body in silks doesn't seem difficult, until you think about doing it with nothing but your feet -- 20 feet in the air. It takes a lot of grip strength as well as a strong core and upper body. While the muscles on Riley's back and arms are evident, even though masked by her ink, her grip is only noticed when you shake her hand. "My ring size went from a 4.5 to 6.5," she says.
Kingsley, the former gymnast, started aerialist classes in March as a fun way to work out that wouldn't hurt her already ACL-damaged knee. "I see it as a combination of fitness and art," Kingsley, who is an EMT and waitperson, says. "It's art in the way that it takes grace in order to look nice doing it. And it's definitely a sport because you can't just hang there and look pretty."
Most of Riley's students are either in or just out of college, though some are in their early teens and late 30s. "It all comes down to dedication and practice," she says. Riley spends six days a week in the gym and teaches 15 to 20 students. Calouche and Riley agree that a good portion of learning is mental — how a student handles frustration.
Once they get the hang of it, though, most become addicted. One of Riley's younger students runs up to her at the gym, a Cirque du Soleil video playing on her iPhone, and asks if she can learn how to do what she's watching. Riley offers her support.
CAROLINE CALOUCHE & CO. For more information, go to www.carolinecalouche.org.