“Honestly, it’s the people.”
For Swiss skier, photographer and phaenom cohort rider Daniel Loosli, or fondly ‘Doosli’, skiing has always been about more than just the terrain under his feet. It's the community that surrounds him, the skiers and snowboarders who push the limits of what’s possible and show up for each other when it counts. It continues to shape his identity on and off the mountain.
“Spending time on the mountain with all these insanely talented skiers and snowboarders who push the boundaries of what’s possible – it never stops impressing me. But beyond the tricks and style, it’s really the community that makes it special. Sure, sometimes it feels like everyone’s trying to be the coolest in the room. But when it truly matters, people show up for each other. That sense of unity, even in such an individualistic sport, is something I deeply appreciate.”
That appreciation for the culture runs deep, but a key turning point for Loosli came during a solo moment on the hill about seven years ago.
“I had this moment on the hill; just me, a pair of skis with a big nose and a tight turn radius, and it hit me: I don’t care where I ride or what discipline I’m in. Park, pow, groomers, whatever. I just want to ski. That mindset changed everything for me. It stripped things back to the essence; joy, flow, freedom. And that’s still what drives me today.”
Loosli didn’t follow the standard track into freeskiing. He entered the scene at 18, already surrounded by experienced riders. That late start came with pressure, and a temptation to force his way in.
“I felt this urgency to catch up fast, to somehow shortcut the process. I figured if I could land something on a trampoline, I could probably land it on snow too. Spoiler: I couldn’t. That mindset led to a string of injuries, and to be honest, I was skiing more like a poser than someone I’d actually respect.”
The injuries were a wake-up call. Over time, he shifted his mindset and broadened his definition of what it means to be part of the sport.
“Eventually, reality hit. It became painfully clear that this approach wasn’t sustainable. I had to adapt. I realized I was never going to be the guy throwing perfect double corks or chasing super technical tricks. But at the same time, I was getting more and more drawn to photography, especially in the context of skiing and movements. That shift in focus really shaped who I am today.”
“If you truly love something, you’ll find your own way. You’ll have to be pragmatic, carve out your own path, and accept that your strengths might look different than what you first imagined. And that’s more than okay.”
These days, before a shoot or a big drop-in, Loosli relies on something simple to lock in his focus: music.
“Listening to music with headphones. It’s definitely a love-hate thing. Probably more hate for the people around me. I’m that guy who makes you repeat everything because I’ve got my headphones in. Whether I’m about to drop in, shoot, or just zone out – you’ll probably hear me go, ‘Huh? Sorry, what?’ So yeah, my bad.”
“But music really affects my mood and motivation, like it does for many. The thing is, I’m a pretty hyperactive person with real ups and downs. Music helps me regulate that energy. With the right genre, I can dial into whatever mindset I need.”
“It’s not always great music, let’s be honest, but it works. And for me, that’s the fastest and most reliable way to ground myself. No breathing exercises, no crystals, just music and some half-decent headphones.”
When it comes to how others view his skiing, Loosli doesn’t give it much thought anymore, unless the feedback comes from someone close to him or someone he deeply respects.
“To be honest, I don’t really spend much time thinking about how people see me anymore when I ski. Unless it’s coming from someone I truly admire or someone close to me. But let’s be real, who doesn’t care at least a little in those cases? And sure, a compliment feels good; I’m human after all.”
“But in the end, what I actually hope for is pretty simple: That I can inspire people. Motivate them in some way. Ideally, even push them to go further than I ever could. That’s the best kind of impact you can have.”
Among the people who have helped guide him, one name stands out immediately: fellow Swiss freeskier Kai Mahler.
“Kai Mahler, no question. We’ve known each other forever. He’s one of those people where it doesn’t matter what you do, he’ll come along, do it better on the first try, and casually say: ‘Ah, I’m not even good at this.’”
“It’s equal parts impressive and infuriating. But having people like that around is a gift. They remind you that there’s always another level, and that copying won’t get you there. You’re forced to carve your own path, be more creative, and stay humble. That’s where the real progress starts.”
Through it all, and as an established part of the phaenom cohort, Loosli has learned to stay grounded in his own instincts, even if they don’t always align with the dominant trends in skiing. He’s not chasing the perfect trick or viral clip. He’s chasing clarity, creativity, and the feeling that got him hooked in the first place.
Daniel Loosli rides fs 01 120 and fr 01 130.
