The Gloved Man

Apparently, an aerialist who wears gloves on the silks is a rare breed.

Whether in studios in Tokyo or Los Angeles, the reaction was always the same: "I've never seen anyone do aerial silks in gloves before." Even veteran performers with 20 or 30 years in the industry told me it was a first for them. It seems that no matter where I go or how far back I look, I remain part of a distinct minority.

This glove style was the result of extensive trial and error (a privilege of the amateur’s unrestricted imagination). I tried every possible technique and method I could find to solve a specific problem: my hands slipping during the DNA spin at the end of my routine. By the final moments of a 4-minute performance, the effect of the rosin fades, and my grip inevitably begins to fail.
Since I started wearing gloves for such a specific, technical necessity, I actually find it more mysterious that others don’t wear them. However, to claim that my approach, as the lone outlier among the hundred+ non-gloved aerialists I’ve encountered, has universal validity would be a worldview as self-centered as the belief that the Earth is the center of the universe and the countless stars in the night sky were created just for us.

I am deeply grateful to my coach and sub-coach, whose open minds (and generous hearts) allowed them to warmly overlook my style without denouncing it as some dangerous, heretical ideology.

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Counting only gloves, I must have ordered and tested no fewer than 15 different types—examining materials, shapes, finishes, friction, water absorption, and weight. In practice, many failed to withstand the rigors of aerial use, but eventually, I settled on two favorites.

The first is the Double Catch by Dunlop, which features a wide grip surface.

A performer friend who appeared in Cirque du Soleil told me he used these for the Cyr wheel. They are light and soft, giving your hands a sense of added substance, as if they’ve grown a size larger. They feature anti-slip coating not only on the surface but also on the inside, providing a powerful grip and a reassuring level of firmness.
They’re easy on the wallet, which means I can wear them down without a second thought. I used these for my casual, daily practices. Practicing more than eight times a week meant they would be in tatters within a fortnight.
As a bonus, they even come in handy for opening those impossibly stubborn jars; they’ve rescued me not only in my life in the air but many times in my kitchen as well.

My other favorite is a pair with the tips of the thumb, index, and middle fingers removed.

The base is jet black, with anti-slip rubber patterns stitched in a subtle sheen. This luster asserts itself just enough under bright studio lights or stage spotlights—blending in while providing extra definition to the hands as part of the costume. They are so light they feel weightless, yet they provide a secure, snug fit that offers a sense of protection in the air.
The three exposed fingertips are perfect for the delicate control needed to pinch and manipulate the silk. I made it a point to use these for actual performances and full run-throughs.
To improve my execution by even a single percent, precise fingertip control was more vital than raw grip strength.

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Even if my glove style is (perhaps) (somewhat) peculiar, I imagine every aerialist possesses their own unique flair. Even when performing on the same apparatus, (and doing the same moves), the way each person uses their body is truly distinct.

For instance, I know a professional performer who climbs the silk as if it were second nature to her, with a grace that defies gravity, yet cannot do a single push-up on the ground. I initially dismissed it as a bit of theater, suspecting she was just playing the damsel in distress, but I soon realized her inability was entirely, bafflingly real.
It’s fascinating to watch her perform a difficult one-handed move (one I could never dream of mimicking in terms of raw power) as if it were just a little part of choreography, only to find she cannot manage a single pull-up (a move I can repeat with ease). I genuinely thought she was teasing me, but in reality, it's clear to me now that the muscles and flexibility she relies on are just fundamentally different.

One night after practice, I even handed my coach a brand-new pair of gloves with supreme confidence, urging her to give them a try. She ended up sliding helplessly down the silks, laughing that she was actually slipping more with them on. It seems the human system is less a piece of precision clockwork following a universal blueprint, and more like a labyrinth that has arrived at its own unique functional beauty through a long history of constant repairs and expansions.