Wanderlust Ice & Ink – Édito: Becoming an Aerialist On Ice, Bridging Pair Skating and Circus Arts

I am an aerialist on ice and a pair figure skater performing in ice shows around the world. Two disciplines, one path, shaped by movement, discipline, and unexpected opportunities. Between ice and air is where I found my voice as an artist, and where this édito begins. As a professional figure skater, I have always carried the same desire, to express who I am, to share my inner world, and to create through everything I love. Coming from a modest background and a small industrial town in France, I learned early on that nothing is guaranteed. Hard work, focus, and consistency were never optional, they were essential. This mindset shaped the way I approached every opportunity. I grew through discipline, determination, humility, and love for the craft. I refused to be confined by a single label or by expectations tied to where I came from. Just because a path seemed predefined did not mean it was the only one available. I was determined to build my own. Figure skating, and later pair skating, were my first languages. They taught me rigor, courage, resilience, and shaped me as both an athlete and a performer. After competition, I turned professional and had the chance to tour more than twenty nine countries across five continents. Yet, just before the pandemic, something felt off. Technically and artistically, I was trying to fit into an image that was not mine, striving toward a softer, more conventional aesthetic, when my nature had always been more athletic, raw, and unconventional. At that point, skating no longer felt like a space where I could fully exist. For a moment, I even questioned the years I had devoted to a version of myself I would never become. Everything shifted when I allowed myself to step outside of skating alone. During quarantine, I deepened my work in aerial arts under the guidance of my circus coaches, Camille and Ina. I trained relentlessly, especially on aerial hoop, spending hours in my fiancé’s garden learning sequences, refining technique, and building movement until I created my first aerial act on ice. That period became a turning point, not because it erased skating, but because it revealed how much I had limited myself. Aerial art rebuilt my artistic identity. It carries the same discipline, precision, and athleticism as skating, but it brought back joy, creative hunger, freedom, and a raw physical energy I had been missing. When I introduced LED light into the apparatus, movement became storytelling, a dialogue between ice, air, and the cinematic universes that inspire me. What I discovered was not a new direction, but a deeper alignment. Today, I continue to perform as a pair skater while developing aerial work as an integral part of my artistic language. Aerial training sharpened qualities I needed as a skater, control, presence, emotional intention, and awareness of movement, strengthening my work on the ice and opening new professional opportunities, including performing on a cruise ship. Alongside my shows, I am developing new aerial projects and exploring apparatuses on ice, such as aerial straps, building specialty acts parallel to my pair skating career. I never imagined this path in advance. What once felt like an ending became the foundation of my strongest mindset. What I once wanted to leave behind became the core of my creativity. In this article, I share my story for anyone who has ever felt confined by a single definition, a fixed path, or an expectation that no longer fit. Beyond technique and discipline, this story is about how a body learns, adapts, and reinvents itself when circumstances shift. It is about choosing curiosity over limitation, and about how creative identity can evolve without erasing what came before.

Growing up in Saint-Nazaire, a city renowned for its shipyards, I was drawn to the grand ocean liners, my start in skating wasn’t a glamorous one, it was practical. As an asthmatic child, often extremely sick, I took to the ice to build strength and improve my health because of the fresh, cool environment was recommended to help me breathe better. What began as a practical decision quickly became something I loved.I didn’t think about where skating could take me, it just became part of my life. By six, I was competing, and skating became my main focus. Training as a young skater in France’s sports-study program till my Bachelor University degree, I had to balance school and intensive training that required discipline and commitment. Mornings started at 5 or 6 a.m. with practice, followed by a full day of school, and then more skating in the evening. Homework and studying stretched late into the night. Some days felt overwhelming, and there were moments when exhaustion blurred my focus. But I never doubted my love for skating or my desire to make it a career. Academics served as a backup plan, a safety net in case things didn’t work out, but of course, my heart was always on the ice. Knowing that every early morning and long day brought me closer to my dream kept me motivated. It taught me that doing your passion as a living doesn’t happen by accident. It’s about showing up every day, staying focused, and putting in the work.

As I grew, my path naturally shifted when I chose to specialize in pair skating. During summer camps as a child, I would stop and watch the pair skaters train, quietly captivated by the precision of their lifts and the way two bodies could move as one. There was something both powerful and restrained in that discipline, strength disguised as elegance, effort hidden behind fluidity. It did not feel intimidating, it felt familiar, almost inevitable. I was always drawn to acrobatics, to the sensation of leaving the ice, of committing fully to a movement, of trusting momentum and timing. Pair skating brought together everything that fascinated me, jumping, spinning, flying, but also listening, to another body, another rhythm, another presence. The discipline demands complete engagement. You cannot hesitate. You cannot think only for yourself. Every element relies on trust, precision, and an acute awareness of the other.
What made pair skating truly special to me was the physical sensation it created. Skating suddenly felt like a controlled free fall, similar to riding a roller coaster, a constant balance between adrenaline and freedom. That feeling added a new dimension to my relationship with the ice. It pushed me beyond technical execution and into something more instinctive, more alive. I was no longer just skating, I was responding, adapting, committing. Through daily training, trust and mutual understanding developed almost organically. Many things did not need to be explained. The ice became a shared language, and repetition built a silent form of communication. Pair skating taught me that a true connection on the ice does not rely on words. It is built through presence, consistency, and a shared dedication to the same passion. When two people are equally invested in the movement, the bond forms naturally, through effort, respect, and the simple act of moving forward together.

 

In 2014, my path shifted again when I transitioned from competition to show skating. Leaving the structured world of scoring systems behind, I embraced the artistry and storytelling of performance. Show skating allowed me to connect with audiences in a new way, transforming routines into creative expressions. Performing in ice shows came with its own demands: skating multiple shows a week required physical endurance, and performing live meant constant focus. But it also brought joy, the applause of the audience, the thrill of performing in incredible venues, and the camaraderie of working with a cast of talented skaters and performers from around the world. Over the years, I’ve performed in arenas and theaters across 29 countries. Touring with skating companies felt surreal at times, especially when performing in venues that once hosted NBA or NHL games. This year, I achieved another milestone by performing on a cruise ship. Working alongside artists, musicians, and crew members from all over the world has been a reminder of how collaboration brings diverse talents together to create something meaningful. Along the way, I met my fiancé, who shares the same profession as me. Traveling and living all these skating experiences together has made the journey even more rewarding. Sharing the challenges, triumphs, and joy of performing with someone who understands it so deeply has brought an added layer of meaning to this life on the ice. Skating has shaped more than my career, it’s shaped my character. It’s taught me persistence, adaptability, and how to rise stronger after every fall. It started as a childhood passion, but it’s become a journey of growth, expression, and resilience. Every stumble, every happy moment on and off the ice, every person I’ve met, and every challenge has played a role in shaping who I am today, both as a performer and as a person.

Afterward, I was offered the opportunity to join Cruise-Ships as a pair skater performer, which brought me back to the dream I had as a child. Indeed, cruise ship are buolt in St Nazaire so I was used to see these ship with ice rink being built year after year. Joining ships marks so, the result of 28 years on the ice, including a decade in professional skating. It means maintaining high standards, working alongside some of the world’s best skaters, dancers, artists, seafearer's, all dedicated to creating memorable experiences for guests from around the world. The rhythm of life on a cruise ship is fast-paced, with each day bringing new challenges, new destinations, the drive to continually improve and the responsibilities that come with being part of a larger team effort.

Aerial hoop on ice is exactly what it sounds like, a combination of figure skating and aerial acrobatics performed using a suspended hoop, also known as a lyra. It brings together the elegance and precision of skating with the added dimension of flight. The performer moves between ice and air, using the hoop to create spins, suspended poses, and transitions that shift movement beyond the horizontal plane. It is a visually striking discipline that requires both the technical foundation of a skater and the strength, control, and artistic awareness of an aerialist.

My first contact with aerial work dates back to 2017. Between skating contracts, when I usually had around two months off, I started training in a studio under the supervision of the circus coach I still work with today. I began with aerial silks and aerial hoop, using those breaks as an opportunity to explore a discipline that had already caught my attention within other skating companies. At that time, I was no longer skating pair and struggled to find a consistent partner. After years of navigating partner searches, auditions, and uncertainty, I wanted to step away from that cycle. I wanted to return to performing as a solo skater, while still honoring the physical language I loved in pair skating. Acrobatics, lifts, suspension, and the sensation of flight had always been central to my relationship with the ice. Aerial work offered a way to preserve that feeling, the intensity, the commitment, the vertical dimension, without depending on a partner. Those early years of aerial training were exploratory. I did not yet envision aerial work on ice as a defined discipline or career path. It was a space of curiosity and personal development, a way to expand my physical vocabulary while continuing my skating career. The connection between pair skating and aerial work felt intuitive. The strength, spatial awareness, timing, and trust developed through pair skating naturally translated into the air. Flying in a lift and flying in a hoop carried a similar physical logic, even if the structure was different.

The COVID nineteen pandemic turned the world upside down, and the performing arts industry was no exception. With ice rinks, theaters, and training facilities closed indefinitely, performers like me had to find new ways to keep our practice alive. For me, this period became an unexpected turning point. The global pause offered something I had not experienced in years, time. Time to train consistently, to focus entirely on my body and my movement, without touring, without contracts, without constant transitions. During that period, aerial work stopped being an addition and became a central focus. Training daily allowed me to deepen my technique, refine my intentions, and reflect on how aerial movement could exist on ice in a coherent and meaningful way. What emerged was not a departure from skating, but an expansion of it, a discipline where movement on ice could extend vertically and reshape how space was used. It was during that time that I made the decision to bring aerial work fully onto the ice once quarantine ended, not as a temporary experiment, but as an integral part of my artistic identity. What had started as a response to circumstance, the absence of a pair partner, the curiosity for another discipline, became a conscious artistic choice. From that moment on, aerial skating was no longer separate from who I was as a performer. It became a continuation of my journey, shaped by my pair skating background, my desire for autonomy, and my need to keep flying, even when the structure around me changed.

Faced with the challenge of having nowhere to train, my fiancé surprised me with an incredible gift: a custom-built aerial apparatus in the garden of his house. This setup became my sanctuary during the quarantine, allowing me to continue my training under the guidance of two exceptional circus coaches. Using video conferences, I began learning both silk and lyra, training at least twice a week with them and practicing every day on my own. Despite the world feeling like it had come to a standstill, those training sessions became a way to stay connected to my craft and to continue exploring new dimensions of performance. When quarantine was over, I was able to move my training to the ice rink where I currently practice. I felt incredibly grateful for the opportunity to bring this project to life, building and refining multiple aerial hoop acts on the ice. This was a pivotal step in merging the fluidity of skating with the feeling of aerial performance, creating routines that felt both unique and transformative. This dedication led the following years to two breakthrough contracts in Germany, officially launching me as an aerialist on ice. Performing internationally as part of professional casts was the realization of a dream a milestones that marked the beginning of a new chapter in my career, where two art forms blended seamlessly to push the boundaries of what’s possible in performance. I’ve been fortunate to always have my loved ones by my side every step of the way. Then and now, whether it’s helping me film, record, photograph, or brainstorm ideas for my acts, or simply ensuring I have ice time at the rink to rehearse, their support has been invaluable. Having people who believe in my vision and actively contribute to its realization makes every day of this journey even more meaningful. I know for certain that I couldn’t have achieved this alone. And, looking back, what began as a necessity during a global crisis became a defining moment in my career evolution. Aerial skating has allowed me to express myself in ways that feel fresh and transformative, renewing my artistic perspective and deepening my sensibility.

Through this journey, I recognize that having supportive loved ones, resources, and opportunities is a privilege, and I’m deeply grateful for them. I've also learned the importance of humility. Even though the audience may not see it immediately, this is a dangerous discipline that requires constant preparation and attention. I recognize that having supportive loved ones, resources, and opportunities is a privilege, and I’m deeply grateful for them. I fully acknowledge the importance of the resources and people who believed in me, but it was as well my determination, creativity, and tireless commitment to growth that turned those opportunities into lasting achievements. True progress is the result of a harmonious combination of support, preparation, and the drive to succeed.
 

Flying has been my most instinctive form of expression. It is the space where the body reacts before the mind intervenes, where movement unfolds without calculation, and where creation feels endless. In the air, I experience a rare sense of alignment, between intention and execution, between effort and release. Flying offers a form of artistic freedom that is difficult to reproduce elsewhere, the sensation of moving without gravity, of suspending time, of entering a continuous dialogue between body, space, and air.

For context, I am a professional pair figure skater performing on a cruise ship. Over the past few months, my work on board has been entirely dedicated to pair skating, with no possibility to fly during that time. There are no rigging points available, no access to aerial training on the ship. What might appear as a short interruption becomes significant when flying is part of one’s physical and creative balance. A few months without aerial work can feel disproportionately long, not because of the lack of effort, but because of the absence of a specific form of expression. As a pair skater, my body remains fully engaged every day. The shoulders are constantly solicited, strength is maintained, coordination is refined, and physical commitment is non negotiable. Many of the technical foundations transfer naturally between disciplines. Yet what I missed most during that period was not the physical intensity itself, but the creative space that flying allows. In the air, creation precedes structure. Movement is explored before it is fixed. Flying is where ideas take shape, where curiosity leads, where I reconnect with the core of why I move in the first place. It is also where my pair skating background finds a new form of expression. Certain elements rooted in pair skating technique, such as the death spiral, have become part of my aerial vocabulary. Translated into solo movement on aerial hoop or straps, these elements no longer rely on a partner, but on suspension, rotation, and control, preserving the sensation of centrifugal force and continuous motion while reshaping their structure.

At this moment, I am developing several acts alongside my skating career, allowing these creative impulses to take concrete form again. Among them is an LED aerial hoop act inspired by the Star Wars universe, where light, contrast, and suspended movement become narrative tools. I am also shaping an aerial straps act designed for a very specific upcoming project, with its own technical and artistic parameters. Different formats and different intentions guide each creation, yet they all stem from the same desire to continue evolving, to refine movement, and to push my artistic language further, both on the ice and in the air.

Within this creative process, I developed an aerial act titled Star Wars Equilibrium. This piece emerged from a desire to explore balance, not only as a physical state, but as an emotional and narrative one. Rather than illustrating a storyline directly, the act translates the underlying tensions of the Star Wars universe through movement. Light and shadow, control and release, restraint and expansion shape the choreography and guide the progression of the performance. This act marks my fifth aerial hoop creation on ice and represents an important milestone in my artistic research. For the first time, I integrated LED technology directly into the aerial apparatus, allowing light to become an active element of the choreography rather than a simple visual enhancement. Set to the iconic compositions of John Williams, reimagined by Samuel Kim, the soundscape reinforces the emotional architecture of the piece and supports its cinematic dimension.

Deeply inspired by the Star Wars saga, the act draws particularly from Revenge of the Sith and Return of the Jedi. I was moved by the complexity of Anakin Skywalker’s journey, his descent into darkness driven by love, his struggle with identity, and his eventual redemption through his son. His story reflects the duality inherent in human nature, the weight of choice, and the constant search for balance. Through movement, I sought to embody this philosophy rather than narrate it. The act unfolds as a visual and emotional progression, beginning in clarity and light, moving through tension and inner conflict, and arriving at a state of equilibrium where opposing forces coexist in a controlled and continuous motion. The LED aerial hoop functions as more than a visual tool. It becomes an extension of the body, defining space, tracing trajectories, and reinforcing the sensation of suspension. Color plays a symbolic role throughout the act. Vibrant blues evoke purity and the light side of the Force. Intense reds express temptation, power, and internal struggle. Soft greys emerge as a state of acceptance, where contrast no longer needs resolution, but balance. Movement follows the same logic, moments of stillness give way to acceleration, grounded positions evolve into flight, and rotation becomes a constant negotiation rather than a display.

Star Wars Equilibrium reflects my ongoing exploration of aerial work on ice and beyond, where technical discipline meets instinctive creation. It belongs to a broader research into how aerial language can coexist with skating foundations, how flying can remain precise while staying expressive, and how movement can carry meaning without relying on words. This work also builds on my pair skating background, where dynamics such as centrifugal force, control, and continuous motion inform how I approach suspension and rotation in the air. This project would not exist without the support of a dedicated creative team whose work on lighting, choreography, rigging, and artistic direction made this vision possible. Their involvement allowed the act to evolve with rigor and coherence. Looking ahead, I see Star Wars Equilibrium not as a conclusion, but as a step in an ongoing artistic process, one that continues to redefine how ice, air, and narrative can interact within contemporary performance.

This journey has never been about choosing one discipline over another. It has been about staying honest with how I move, how I create, and how my relationship with performance continues to evolve. Pair skating gave me structure, rigor, and a deep understanding of partnership. Aerial work opened another space, one where movement could expand vertically and where my need for freedom and exploration could exist without compromise. Over time, I understood that identity is not something fixed. It is shaped through work, repetition, doubt, and the ability to question what no longer feels aligned. Reinventing myself did not mean turning my back on skating. It meant allowing everything I had learned to find a new place, a new form, and a clearer intention. What once felt like limitation became a source of strength once I stopped trying to fit into a predefined image. I share this story because the work behind performance is often invisible. The pauses, the redirections, the time spent searching, training, and rebuilding rarely appear on stage. Yet they are where everything is decided. Between ice and air, I continue to build my path step by step, guided by movement, discipline, the support of the people I loveand the need to remain true to who I am as an artist.