Photograph by Mark Gilliland
David Van Camp started out with a knife but ended up with a chain saw. At one time, the European-trained chef spent more time chopping onions than ice. But after competing in several invitation-only ice-carving competitions around the world, he made the leap to full-time ice carver in 1992. “I told these chefs, ‘Put down your picks, and I’ll take care of it,’” he says.
Today, Ice Visions—Van Camp’s Kirkwood-based ice-carving company—is known for its contributions to the annual Loop Ice Carnival, held January 17 this year. To prepare for the daylong event, Van Camp and assistant sculptors John Russell and Sean Leahy will spend an entire week chipping away at more than 100 blocks of ice. Though their work melts in a matter of hours, Van Camp holds a fiery passion for his craft: “You’re taking something as plain as a block of ice and turning it into billions of possibilities,” he says. “It still fascinates me.”
1. Every sculpture begins with a block of ice. Eleven ice-making machines slowly freeze purified water into 300-pound cubes of ice. Why does he choose ice over a traditional medium? “I like the crystal quality,” he says.
2. A new design starts with a sketch. Van Camp finds a picture of an object, then scribbles down the shape, figuring out the dimensions as he goes. “The trickiest part is getting that idea out of a block of ice,” he says.
3. Once he’s happy with the design, Van Camp traces the shape’s outlines with a pick. “The design dictates how we’ll carve it,” he says. He often uses a chain saw to carve out the rough shape before refining it with a drill and Japanese hand tools.
4. Ice Visions creates more than 2,000 sculptures per year, with roughly half destined for wedding receptions. In mid-October, the company made 15 deliveries during a single weekend night.
5. Timing is everything. Nothing irks an ice sculptor more than delivering a sculpture too early. “It’s so perishable,” he says. “It’s important to see it when the frost is still on because that first impression is what lasts.”
6. Sculpting in such a short-lived medium is a blessing and curse for Van Camp, though he’d have it no other way. Photos are typically the only remnants of his work—but there is an upside: “It’s nice that it melts, or we’d run out of customers.”
