PACKED LIVES: Duncan Hamilton is Europe's leading ice sculptor. He was formerly a chef and taught at Ealing College

Carol Wright
Saturday 17 May 1997 18:02 EDT
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It's always the smallest knife, the one I use for cleaning out small holes in the ice, that security checks pick on. Yet my bigger ice sculpting tools are pretty deadly weapons. The ice saws have two-inch teeth, and the sharp, long chisels are made from extremely expensive laminated samurai sword steel.

I take them everywhere in a battered Harrods black leather golf bag. I've never played golf but it means I can walk into a hotel without looking like a plumber. In the pockets go plumber's freeze - a fine spray that welds ice blocks together, ice dogs - tongs for picking up huge ice blocks, ice picks, bright orange insulated rubber gloves designed for cold storage workers, goggles, ear muffs, and my cashmere woolly hat. Wellies are folded over on top or attached to the sides with gaffer tape. The bag always sets off security alarms so I take my brochures to explain why I'm carrying these frightening tools. I refuse to check the bag in and often it goes in a special plane compartment.

I go all over the UK and to Quebec, Amsterdam, Germany, France and Italy. The remotest spot was Arctic Finland, cutting out blocks of lake ice at -40C to build an abstract female form four times lifesize for a vodka advertisement. I took suntan cream, ski glasses and special Canadian boots with 11/2 ins of felt lining. I never have cold feet in them. I also wear boot liners made of diver's suit material.

I may work 15 hours a day creating something that lasts only seven hours, so I carry a camera to record it. I have only once been asked to attend a formal dinner, so I travel and work in Gore-Tex ski clothes which keep me warm, dry and supple; ice sculpting is physically and mentally exhausting. In a holdall I'll take a spare shirt, smarter trousers, a change or two of underwear, which I keep washing. I have sensitive skin so I pack unperfumed soap and shampoo, and to prevent my hands drying out, Kamillosan, a nipple cream used by nursing mothers.

I make my own ice and send blocks to Amsterdam in returning empty flower lorries, and for work in Jersey I'm insulating ice surrounded by dry ice and shipping it by ferry. This ice is extremely clear and I have sent cubes of it to Rome for a Japanese whiskey commercial. If I'm not flying, I take Perspex trays to prevent ice dripping over buffets and carpets and light boxes - the best way to light ice is from underneath.

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