For ice sculptors, 'letting go' is part of the terrain
Imagine spending more than three hours crafting a 10-foot masterpiece.
You put so much physical, mental and creative energy into it. You gift it to someone and they love it, too.
Then, like a real-life Snapchat, it disappears.
Welcome to the life of ice sculpting. This is a daily occurrence at Okamoto Studio in Queens, New York: watching the birth, growth and death of their labor.
"For us, it’s a practice of letting go," said Shintaro Okamoto, the creative director of the studio.
Before the practice of letting go, the art of building up begins.
Okamoto scribbles on a piece of paper with a drawing of the Empire State Building, today’s version of the circle of life. That drawing begins to come to life when a 300-pound block of ice ascends from a Clinebell ice machine.
The artists then contour the piece with a band saw and, later, a chain saw.
"Well, there’s definitely a great dichotomy," Okamoto said, wrapped in multiple layers of clothing. "It’s a very brute process using electric chain saws and die grinders, power tools. It takes a lot of force and physical labor to create something as evanescent, elegant and beautiful and transparent as ice."
Finally, they sculpt the details. Straight edges become ridges and suddenly, layers of ice blocks transform into a replica of the 102-story skyscraper.
Soon after, it will go into their 12-degree freezer, and later on, it will be shipped to their client.
Then it will melt.
"It’s about enjoying the process of making," Okamoto said, "and really learning that the true beauty of what we do really happens once we leave the studio, and to see the ice melt and get the direct interaction with people."
