It’s true that skating isn’t pure dance. It is, though, extraordinary in its own right and can possess the quiet sophistication, musicality and nuance of dance. With Ms. Papadakis and Mr. Cizeron, skating has room to grow. They aren’t merely ice dancers: They dance on the ice, showing how it’s capable of becoming a living canvas, one that curves toward the skater as the skater curves back into it.

In ice dance, there are no lifts above the head, no heroic jumps. Its power is rooted in a blade’s deep etchings, the angle of plush knee bends and, despite those awkward boots, toes that point and extend the length of a leg to create fluent line. Arms lengthen from the back with fingers that grow along with them. If, in pairs and singles skating, it seems like the air is increasingly being sucked out of routines to make room for more jumps — it’s worse when they’re crammed into the second half in order to score more points — ice dance pushes skating to a more poetic place.

How can skaters bring emotion to a blade? How does their musicality play into a seemingly simple essence of motion? A skater moves forward and backward on the inside or outside edge of a blade. In ice dance, this is not rushed but emphasized in strokes that lean and bend to propel a skater from one side of the rink to the other.

In the singles and pairs world, pristine edges can be forsaken for jumps and lifts, but one skater who pays attention to the details in between is the American Adam Rippon. He has become a media sensation for his outspokenness, but what I love most about him is his skating. He moves like silk. He cares about line; his spins have an endearing lightness, as the arch of his back in his layback — arguably the most beautiful spin in skating — attests.