Taking To The Ice
By Robert Beck
I grew up near an old canal, and in the winter I would skate for miles through the countryside, then turn around and skate back. Me alone, with the smell of the damp wool scarf against my face and the blades slicing and chattering as I flew across the landscape. Gliding through the mist that rises from the ice as the morning sun heats the air is sublime. That’s what I thought of while I worked on this painting.
It was unseasonably warm when I painted at Wollman Rink. The elevated walk along the side gave me a great vantage to set up. I enjoyed describing the gestures and capturing the movement and energy. The mass of people on the ice has an uneven fluidity. There are people taking it easy, people in their way, and people zipping through the gaps. Then they clean the ice and everybody goes the other direction, which makes it feel like I’m painting against the grain.
Some people bring their memories and their dreams with them to the rink. You can spot those skaters. Others are just trying to figure out how to do it. Learning is not without bruises, but it ingrains over time. I played hockey for 20-some years and was pretty good on skates. Then I stopped, and my supple skills began to ossify. No more do I take stairs two or three at a time, nor do I move through life with athletic elan. I get around okay for a guy my age, but I know better than to put my skates on. Still have ‘em in the basement, in the bag of equipment I haven’t worn in thirty years. I know if I got back on the ice, I would do fine for a while until I overcooked it, and BAM, I’d go down. I’ve always been one to probe limits, but it’s been too long, and I don’t tolerate bams like I used to.
When you get a handle on it, skating feels wonderful. There is music to it, like dance. Moving becomes effortless. You sail. The breeze on your face belongs to you. I can see people at the rink enjoying all of that. An antidote to concrete and asphalt. But here and there is a person with arms and legs going in too many directions at once. That’s a bam in the making.
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Beautiful painting!
Poetical writing and super painting! I’m older now, too, but I bought new skates a few years ago, and I get around okay! No tricks. Just “‘round and ‘round and ‘round in the circle game.”
Wonderful description!!!
Mr. Beck, I loved your painting and reminiscence. Where did you grow up? I, too, used to love to skate–in Maine, but did not do it for miles. Often, it was bitter cold, but I would go out before breakfast on the weekends to a pond by myself. Once my neighbor and I skated on the Kenduskeag Stream when it froze solid. I was a ballet dancer and stopped skating. Later, I took my daughter to the rink on Central Park North. I kept my skates for years and eventually gave them to my physical therapist after a knee replacement. Nothing like being on the ice or dancing for that matter. All best wishes,
Beautiful painting and sweet story accompanying it too. A definite “pick-me-up” as I read it, having ice skated growing up too.
wonderful article, lovely painting. thank you Robert Beck!
I skated in a rink in CA with my Girl Scout troop. Got pretty good at it, so would venture out from time as an adult with my kids’ scout troops. One bam on way into the rink told me it was time to watch from the sidelines. Same with skiing, after putting the skis away for fear of messing up an already damaged back, but discovered I could do as much damage walking about the village waiting for the family on the slopes but get none of the swooshing fun!
The artist’s poetic story and paintings bring me much joy, and help me feel more connected to New York.
Thank you for sharing!
I like this article and painting very much. The painting captures the feeling of the movement on the rink beautifully.
I took figure skating as a child in the 70s, and one winter evening my mother took me to the Wollman rink so I could practice. It was very cold and after a while the few other skaters left and I was surprised to suddenly have the whole rink to myself. I still remember how it looked, brightly lit up with the very dark, snow-filled park surrounding it.