I greet her white face like a lover early in the morning. I slide my
hands across her back as if to ask for permission to dance across her
white skin. Push, chasse push, trees surround me and the sun glistens
through them and meets my eyes. When you dance on ice she is your lover
and you are her dream, tiny dancer, the girl in the music box dancing
to its soft sweet tune.
It is 7:30am and the day has begun. The Ice Theatre Company meets at
the dance studio for off ice, coffee in hand and sleep still lingering
in our eyes. The floor in the dance studio is cold but our socks must
come off. We start in a circle, swaying side-to-side becoming aware of
our bodies, connecting ourselves to the day. The air in upstate New
York is still cold and spring’s hand has barley touched the small town
of Saugerties waking it from its sleepy winter. I am like a curious
child as I watch each skater's different body movements and try to
grasp who they are. You can tell a lot about an individual's
personality by how they dance or the character of their ice skates,
where they are worn in the most and where the scratches are the
thickest.
We arrive at the rink more awake then we were an hour ago, our bodies much more aware, but coffee still in hand. Alyssa and I are always the last to get on the ice, putting on what seems like at least one hundred layers of clothing so that we don’t freeze to death. On the ice, our creative process is slow, and each minute of choreography takes a morning to learn and rehearse. Everyone begins to mold their surroundings, creating emotion, and painting a moving picture that is timeless and seemingly without boundary. Our bodies act as the painter - the paints and the brush all in one. It is refreshing to see a group of movers so connected to movement, as I am used to watching skaters who are unaware of their main tool - their body.
The first week is hard for me, intimidating and cold, but I can feel my body growing stronger and becoming more aware of what it is I need to give to my skating. I am breaking the boundaries that I created for myself, putting aside the specific movements I use over-and-over again, and I move in ways which I would not usually choose to move. By the last week of the residency, wthe Ice Theatre skaters greet the ice every morning with loud rhythmic music, and we skate as fast as we can. We also teach one another strange tricks that can only be learned on empty ice. Then we move onto the choreography, which is now nearly complete and known to the point where character is added.
This is the kind of skating I live for, to be able to dance, really dance, effortlessly and without boundary or judgment, without pressure and competition. To be on the ice for the simple and beautiful reason - because I love to dance. What has my internship taught me? It has taught me that there is a place where figure skating is done not for the tricks and the prizes but for the art and the sheer beauty of what it is to dance on ice.
Samantha Leeds