Hidden treasure

There's nothing regal about the setting: a nondescript commercial building on a busy Minneapolis street. But tucked inside is an exotic jewel of a home, studded with carved and gilded artifacts from the Orient.

"My friends call it the Thai Palace," said Roy Blakey. That's an improbable nickname for an urban loft, but it's an apt one, given Blakey's Bangkok aesthetic and soaring 14.5-foot ceilings, built to accommodate the massive carvings that adorn his walls.

"I don't like little things," he said with a laugh. "Only parts of temples."

A former figure skater, Blakey retains a trim physique and buoyant energy suggesting that, at age 74, he could still execute a jump if he felt like it. His home, in contrast, exudes stillness and serenity.

The space, which formerly housed a computer graphics business, was gutted and refashioned to create Blakey's unusual dwelling.

Once inside, the piece that immediately draws the eye is a huge triangular carving covered with shiny gold and inlaid mica, and lit so that it glows like firelight. Blakey has seen similar walls on Buddhist temples in Thailand. "They're so gorgeous, sparkling in the sun," he said. But he prefers the quieter beauty of pieces that have been aged and weathered to a soft brown, like the one that fills his adjacent wall. "I'm sure the whole background was once mirrored and gilded, but the monsoons have erased that."

Hand-carved teak temple doors lead to his pantry, his bathroom and even his electrical box. A huge wooden dragon that once greeted Burmese orchestra patrons now oversees Blakey's living room.

Black ice

How Blakey, an Oklahoma native, came to create his Midwestern shrine to the Far East is a story that reinforces the Buddhist belief that all things are interrelated. In an oddly roundabout way, it was a Norwegian figure skater, Sonja Henie, the Olympic gold medalist-turned movie star, who provided the inspiration.

As a teen, Blakey saw one of Henie's films, which were known for their elaborate skating production numbers, and was struck by an image that altered his life. Skaters, dressed in white, were gliding over black ice, covered with a film of water that reflected like a mirror.

"It was just magical," Blakey recalled. "I thought, 'I have to do that. I have to get on ice skates and get in a show.' "

But there were no ice rinks in tiny Enid, Okla., so Blakey had to become an expert roller skater instead. As he'd hoped, his skill on wheels eventually helped him make a smooth transition to blades. While serving in the Army in Germany, Blakey found himself in tantalizing proximity to a nightclub with an ice-skating show. He wangled an audition and ultimately a contract, which led to a skating job at the Chicago Hilton, then an offer to tour with Holiday on Ice.

He began collecting souvenirs, often amazed at the exquisite things he found in humble places. "I was in Jakarta, and there were these boys in boxer shorts, no shoes, with chickens walking around, creating these very sophisticated designs," he recalled. He points to a piece of carved wood inlaid with mother-of-pearl to form a mosaic. "Somebody with no formal education in art created these gorgeous pieces!"

Behind the lens

While on the road, Blakey also laid the groundwork for his second career: photography. He shot theatrical portraits of his fellow performers and honed his darkroom technique in hotel bathrooms. When he left Holiday on Ice in 1967, he planned to settle in California. "It's warm, and there are actors [to photograph] there," he reasoned. But friends persuaded him to stay in New York instead. "I found a loft and stayed 25 years," he said. "It's amazing how fate will take you where you're supposed to be."

In his studio above a topless bar, Blakey photographed entertainers, from the famous to the obscure, including Broadway stars Chita Rivera and Tommy Tune, actress Shirley MacLaine and drag queen/cult-movie star Divine.

During his early years in New York, Blakey also began taking nude photos of male performers, experimenting with dramatic lighting and dancers' poses. That artistic approach wasn't unusual in female nude art photography of the time, but it had rarely been applied to males alone. Blakey self-published a book of these photos, "HE," in 1972, then stored his prints and negatives in boxes, where they languished for decades. Meanwhile, Blakey continued to shoot theatrical portraits, eventually moving from New York to Minneapolis in 1993 to share a studio with his niece, photographer Keri Pickett.

The sender was Tennessee-based author/photographer Reed Massengill, who had seen and admired Blakey's work in the '70s. "Roy was a visionary," Massengill said. "He was at a pivotal point in the history of the genre, right on the precipice of time when photographing male nudes became something you could do without legal repercussions and without shame."

In the late '90s, Massengill had begun to look for Blakey in New York, "but nobody seemed to know where he was." On a whim, Massengill did an AOL directory search and found a listing for Blakey in Minneapolis.

Massengill told Blakey his work should be revived, and offered to help. "I took him by the nose and pushed him back into the darkroom," Massengill said.

That two-year process culminated in a gallery show and the 2002 publication of "Roy Blakey's '70s Male Nudes" -- "my miracle book," Blakey said. "Apparently I'm now considered a pioneer."

Massengill, who now regards Blakey as a friend and role model -- ("I told him, 'You're exactly what I want to be when I grow up.' ") -- has visited him at his Thai Palace.

Kim Palmer is at kpalmer@startribune.com.

When Roy Blakey talks about his "museum," he isn't referring to the Asian artifacts that fill his home. He's talking about the IceStage Archive, his vast collection of ice-skating memorabilia.

Crowded into one room in his home are thousands of items, ranging from 1910 hand-tinted German postcards to recent dolls and other products honoring contemporary skating stars.

Many of the costumes, posters and photos celebrate shows, including well-known touring productions and the lavish hotel skating shows that were popular during the 1940s and '50s. There are other collections that emphasize figure-skating as a sport, Blakey said. "But I'm the only one collecting the theatrical aspect of skating."

He has no idea what his collection is worth, but he does have a dream: to find a home for it where others can see and appreciate the history of theatrical skating. "I'm working hard to find the proper place for all this," he said.