Growing up in the Hayward Hills, just south of Oakland, California, Mallory Duncan lived a hybrid lifestyle throughout his childhood. Weekdays were spent at school, avoiding homework, disrupting class and getting in trouble. Weekends at Alpine Meadows, a ski resort on the north-west shores of Lake Tahoe, were for jumping off cliffs and skiing powder with friends. Every Sunday he would have dinner at his grandad’s house, watch football and listen to jazz.
“I’ve come to accept that I don’t always fit into the ski industry,” says Duncan, a professional skier, award-winning film-maker, entrepreneur and saxophonist. “I live in Portland and love the city life, music and the integration of art into my work. Being exposed to many different types of experiences helps me be more creative in everything I do.”
To Duncan, jazz and skiing have been inextricably linked since he was young. He started playing the saxophone in third-grade band class, inspired by a Charlie Parker album cover he saw at his grandad’s house. “I could memorize a song and play it, but I couldn’t read music,” says the 33-year-old. “That’s largely still true today. I still can’t play sheet music well, but I loved playing the sax right away.”
At the same time he was learning the sax, Duncan was progressing as a skier. He learned how to ski at just 18 months old, and his parents later would drop him off at the hill as a de facto daycare. When he was eight, a family friend recommended the Alpine Meadows development program and he began pursuing skiing on a more serious level. By the age of 13, he was the second-ranked skier in his division, leading to a scholarship at Sugar Bowl Academy, a private high school near Lake Tahoe focused on skiing.
Had things worked out differently, Duncan might have been competing for an Olympic medal this month. “My ambition was to be one of the best in the country, to win a gold medal at the Olympics, even if that sounds bold now,” says Duncan. “There were around 10 kids in my class. We lived on campus and it was very regimented, which felt stifling at the time. But we got to ski almost every day, which kept me in line. For a decade, racing was my whole life.”
Despite being comfortable on the slopes, Duncan didn’t always fit in at school. He was one of the few kids who listened to hip-hop, soul, funk, and jazz. He also dreamed of working as a producer at a record label. “I remember my dad listening to Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye and Kool & The Gang,” says Duncan, “and stealing my sister’s hip-hop CDs, but I didn’t develop my own taste until I moved away from home.”
With a goal to race at the highest level with the US Ski Team, Duncan enrolled at the University of Vermont, home to one of the best collegiate programs in the country. But he didn’t make the team and decided to step away from the sport. A year later, friends brought him back to the slopes and it didn’t take long for Duncan to reconnect.
“When I stopped racing, it was like relearning how to ski,” says Duncan, “Without gates, it felt like playing music from the soul, flowing with what felt natural. A friend later said to me that playing from sheet music is like learning to ski backwards. You first need to learn how to ski from your soul.”
For the first time, Duncan felt an alignment between music and the way he wanted to ski: no one could tell him where he could go or what he could do. “It was all about exploring new areas, following your heart, being adaptable, and seeing what Mother Nature gave you, it didn’t have to be uniform [giant slalom] turns down the fall line,” says Duncan. “That’s just like jazz. You listen to what’s happening in order to keep that song moving forward.
“Jazz is a disruptive genre that doesn’t always follow the rules, an improvisational thing. You don’t always play the right notes or stay in the same key as everyone else. Both give you endless opportunities to express yourself.”
In 2019, Duncan signed his first ski sponsor, a major step in his career. The timing was nearly perfect, as backcountry skiing – his primary discipline – exploded in popularity during the pandemic, with many skiers looking for safe ways to get outside and feel a sense of freedom. He also launched his own creative agency, focused on sales, marketing and film projects.
“Creativity isn’t just music and art, it’s the way you bring an idea to life,” says Duncan. “Entrepreneurship is one of the best ways I’ve found to be creative, finding new ways to create, form, and mould a business. It’s an expression of my creativity.”
Duncan started turning heads with his fresh perspective on the industry. Despite being one of the very few Black pro skiers, he wanted his work to speak for him. “I like to be about things, not talk about them,” he says. “I live a Black experience, but being Black doesn’t define me as a skier.”
His award-winning short film, Blackcountry Journal, premiered in the fall of 2023 and exemplified his ethos. It blends backcountry skiing with jazz in a way that had never been done before. It surprised much of the ski industry. “I wanted to show that Black people have a place in skiing, not tell people they do. Jazz is a historically Black discipline, but by not saying that explicitly opened the door for more people to connect with it.”
This insight comes from years of bias he felt growing up, always trying to fit into a ski industry where he didn’t always feel that he fit in. “I didn’t always feel like a skier,” says Duncan. “I sometimes still don’t. When I’m in a space with a lot of people just talking just about skiing, I feel othered because that’s not why I got into it. I got into skiing for freedom, so I’m trying to expand what it means to be a skier so others can have that.”
Duncan’s goals have evolved from traditional accolades and achievements to improvements in his personal style and new ways to be creative. He’s lost all desire to be the fastest or do the biggest tricks; instead he simply wants to finish a backcountry ski line and, “look up to see art”.
