The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
As pandemic freezes business, ice sculptor turns to street art
In the walk-in freezer at Ice Sculpture Philly, in an industrial corner of West Philadelphia, ice sculptures meant for dozens of weddings, concerts and conferences sit trapped in suspension — some of them generic decorations, others custom-made for celebrations that have been delayed for months or may not happen at all.
“They’re like ghosts,” ice sculptor Peter Slavin said.
On a crisp Mother’s Day morning, Slavin decided to set one free.
He loaded the glistening, 200pound ice “LOVE” sculpture into his truck and delivered it to a plywood-covered pedestal overlooking the Schuylkill. Then, with a swipe of a blowtorch, he polished it to glassy clarity, stepped back, and let the selfies ensue.
Slavin and his employees, who used to churn out around three dozen sculptures a week, have been out of work since the coronavirus shut down events. So, Slavin has been making new sculptures, a few each week, to install around the city. This guerrilla ice sculpting is Slavin’s way of connecting, sending out little sparks of hope and humanity amid the gloom. “Instead of getting depressed,” he said, “we’re trying to do what we can do — to have some fun, get my guys working and keep my brain flowing.”
Over the past 30 years Slavin, 56, a former chef, has built Ice Sculpture Philly into something halfway between manufacturing facility and sculpture studio. He makes his own crystal-clear ice blocks from Philadelphia tap water, uses a CNC (computer numerically controlled) machine he installed in a freezer to carve them into shapes like unicorns and “LOVE” sculpture knockoffs, and then uses chisels and custom drill bits to add handcarved details.
As sunlight reflected off his sculpture near Boathouse Row, it caught Kevin Bennett’s eye. “It’s good to see something. We been in the house and can’t get out,” the 57-year-old Germantown truck driver said as he snapped a few photos, then turned around for a selfie.
Jim Fennell, 77, came by next, squinting at what he thought at first had to be plastic, or glass. “I’ll Instagram this,” he said through his mask.
Suhag Shukla, 49, relishing a morning walk and the rare escape from work-from-home life, slowed to a stop to marvel at the installation. “It’s such a pleasant surprise,” she said. “It looks like a jewel.”
For Slavin, taking in that praise was also a reprieve.
“This is my sanity. We miss that. Normally we go and set it up, and people are like, ‘Oooh! Ah!’ Now, everything is sitting in the freezer.”
‘Instead of getting depressed, we’re trying to do what we can do — to have some fun, get my guys working and keep my brain flowing.’ Peter Slavin, ice sculptor