blade work

As impermanent as a Tibetan sand painting, this blade-rendered icy futurism was co-created by orbiting masses of frosty Brooklynites intoxicated with sliding over the slickness at the Kate Wollman Rink. It's a strange exhilaration. Odd, the gentle way I was told to "take the camera off the ice," I would have expected a much more forceful, direct statement but in truth all the staff I encountered was kind and sensitive, well apprised of how much it can hurt to fall. Good too was watching the man drive the Zamboni that seated him high like a general on an elephant, the hulking machine melting the jagged to smooth, slow and heavy, revolution by revolution, resetting the clock.