What could be a cooler summer job than carving ice? I'm not really sure, but I can tell you this: wanting to learn how to sculpt ice is very different from actually learning how to do it. You need some serious tools (chainsaw, anyone?), a 300-pound block of ice, the means to transport and store the ice, and a site at which to sculpt it, not to mention strong forearms and biceps, artistic vision and someplace to put the finished product.
Oh yeah, and a willing teacher.
Simultaneously friends and rivals, Russell Samson of Arctic Ice and Matt Walsh of Tanya & Matt's Ice Creamiest are two of only three ice sculptors you'll find in the Bay area yellow pages. The former is a student of the latter — a fact that each is quick to point out — and both have an impressive mastery of ice that they are more than willing to share.
The difference: Samson will show you the ropes over the course of several weeks while Walsh offers the basics in a single afternoon.
On the loading dock: Russell Samson runs his business from a warehouse located off Eisenhower Boulevard in northwest Tampa. It caters to many of the area's big players — the Don Cesar, Avila Golf & Country Club, the St. Pete Times Forum — and the sculptures are mostly carved right outside on the shipping dock by Samson or employee Rich Mathis, who's wrapping up a two-part treasure chest when I arrive.
Samson is tall and pleasant and lets his cold-appreciating, people-loving ice doggie, Bailey the golden retriever, follow us around as he gives me the tour. He points out the Clinebell ice machine ("It only makes about four to six blocks a week"), shares the secret-that's-not-really-a-secret to getting clear ice (circulating the water), shows me around the misty, 25-degree freezers and lets me examine a few finished sculptures: an angel fish, a leftover Easter basket, a wine rack.
He picked up ice sculpting working as an executive chef in big local hotels. He was doing freelance carving but really got deeper into it when he met Walsh, who needed a helping hand with his ice sculpting business due to an injury. Samson went on to sculpt full time, eventually acquiring his own company when Arctic Ice's original owner retired.
He pulls a huge block of ice from the freezer with metal tongs and slides it outside to the work area. Generally he makes a sketch first, but some requests are common enough that he works from a template. Others — like the sailboat he has planned for today — are produced so often that he can carve from memory. He mainly uses a chainsaw but incorporates a variety of other tools when necessary: a Dremel, die grinder, heat gun, chisels, brushes, chippers and picks.
The sailboat takes form quickly, the block sheared down piece by piece, snow spraying with each cut, unneeded chunks kicked to the side to melt where they will. A detail here, a detail there and some 20 minutes later, he's rolling the finished piece into the freezer.
Samson says he'll give lessons to anyone willing to learn over several visits. Interested parties can call him and work out a schedule and expenses.
Arctic Ice & Sculptured Ice Displays of Tampa, 6013 Eleanor Drive, Tampa, 813-885-5576 or www.arcticiceonline.com.
A Family Affair: Matt Walsh works alone, carving no less than five ice sculptures a week right in front of his Carrollwood ice cream shop, Tanya and Matt's Ice Creamiest. The couple has run dual businesses from the Colonial Promenade (Northdale) shopping plaza for the past 15 years, both having earned degrees in hotel and restaurant management from the University of Nevada-Las Vegas, where they first met. Walsh learned the basics of ice sculpting in chef school, enjoying it so much that he went on to continue practicing the craft, discovering new techniques along the way.
Walsh is more easy-going than Samson, a natural charmer with the sort of straight-faced, twinkling-eyed humor that seems to amuse him as much as everyone else. He greets me along with his two rambunctiously adorable daughters, Talia and Kaiya, and yet another canine mascot, Jesse, the bandana-wearing Australian cattledog. They run circles around us as Walsh shows me the ice that's stored in the freezer along with the ice cream.
He starts setting up his gear in front of the shop. Some folks stare curiously and ask what he's going to make. (His stock answer: "A naked woman.") A few linger, settling in to watch from a safe distance in chairs and tables that are scattered outside the shop.
"Here comes the ice," yells Talia as Walsh drags a thong-held block from the freezer, both daughters twittering merrily the whole time, Jesse leaping and barking in excitement, all three crouching to lick the melting ice before Walsh transfers it to the hoist, adjusting it as necessary.
"We're gonna make a butterfly," he says and tells me to sketch one on my handy reporter's pad. I look at him blankly. He wants me to draw something?
"I'm sorry, but I don't even know where to start," I answer shamefully, so he sketches a very simple butterfly, grabs a chisel and has me etch out the design in the ice. I do so somewhat hesitantly while he observes. When I'm done, he shows me the proper way to hold a chainsaw and how to make deeper grooves in the etched lines. At some point while I'm doing this (and not very well, I might add — chainsaws are heavy), he tells me that the sculpture is going to Lakeland the following day. I stop and look at him incredulously. He just smiles and shrugs good-naturedly. "If you mess it up too bad, we'll just start it over."
I finish carving the grooves. Walsh comes in and patches up my mistakes, and then we get to the actual cutting. It's all about making a straight cut and "punching" into the ice when necessary. This is real work, I think, sweating, ice flying, some spraying my trash bag apron, some sliding down my pants and soaking the bottom of my shirt. My cuts aren't too bad according to Walsh, but at some point, when it feels like my arms are about to fall off, he jumps in and smoothly takes over, letting me cut in a few of the details when it's almost completed. And then — voila! — a butterfly, finished with a spray of water and rolled into the freezer to await its forthcoming delivery.
For $300, Walsh will give anyone who's interested a more thorough lesson. At the end of the day, he'll let his student take home the finished sculpture, which will hold its shape for around four to seven hours depending on design, detail and room temperature.
This article appears in May 10-16, 2006.