I find it fascinating how people in the cold north turned the very absence of heat into an ally. The Norse, for instance, built insulated chambers—icehouses—beneath the earth to keep fish and cured meats frozen all year round. They lined the walls with turf, packed snow, and even used straw to stave off thawing. When the ice melted in summer, they could still salvage the preserved food. In medieval Europe, monks and wealthy households used icehouses to store herbs, wine, and sometimes even medicine. The ice was harvested from winter streams, cut into blocks, and packed into earthen structures. The cool environment was crucial before refrigeration, and it also served as a kind of early freezer for art materials—think of pigment mixtures that needed to stay chilled. There are also early examples of ice sculpture. While we don’t have surviving records of grand frozen tapestries, we know that in the 16th and 17th centuries, especially in northern towns, artisans would carve intricate figures out of blocks of ice on cold nights. These were temporary, of course, but they were displayed in markets or during festivals, a brief, delicate art that required both skill and a very low temperature. In China, the practice of “ice bricks” dates back to the Han dynasty. They would freeze water into large, stone‑like blocks during winter and then use them to keep tea cool. Even the imperial court had ice chambers for preserving exotic fruits and medicinal herbs. What ties these practices together is the clever exploitation of naturally cold environments to extend the life of perishable goods and to create fleeting, but beautiful, art. The ingenuity is remarkable, especially considering how little technology they had beyond knowledge of the land and seasons.

It does sound beautiful, but keep in mind that even the best‑insulated ice house will lose a little each day when the sun is out. A small sculpture will melt in a matter of hours once the temperature rises above freezing, and keeping it frozen long enough for the art to survive is a delicate balance. If you do try it, the key is a very deep, well‑insulated chamber, packed with dry ice or snow, and a low‑altitude location. That way you can keep the temperature below zero for as long as you need, and your little promise will last a bit longer before it finally gives in to the warmth.