Ice/Dreams/ Fire, Greenwich Dance Agency, London

Ice/Dreams/Fire was inspired by mummies found in a 6,000-year-old burial site. The bodies, preserved in Siberian perma-frost, were discovered in 1947. They were covered in the earliest-known tattoos; strange pictures of hybrid animals. Laurie Booth is fascinated by these images, the deliberate marking of the body, and the ice. His dance, performed as part of Dance Umbrella, is an installation piece, given in Greenwich Dance Agency's battered but imposing 1930s hall.

There's ice on-stage in a set design by Thomas Richards. Coloured shirts have been frozen in boxes and then hung up at the front of the stage, where they slowly melt. The red and pink cubes start out looking like paper roses, and then resemble garlands.

The drips are caught in metal dishes and buckets, and the noise of the dropfalls is amplified and remixed by Nick Rothwell (of Cassiel). It sounds like drumming, overlaid with electronic hums and then by distorted voices. The dance's score, and Booth's dance itself, vary from night to night.

Booth drifts on, muffled in a robe and glasses. They make him look like a cross between a martial-arts monk and a Glastonbury shaman, and it's something of a relief when he takes them off. His shift top and wide-legged trousers (by Jeanne Spaziani), are covered with tattoo markings.

The opening dance, too, has a martial-arts flavour. Booth stalks forward, whirling a staff. That gliding walk is ceremonial, with each step braced and turned out. The successive poses are broken up by sudden twists of knee and elbow, changing direction and jerking through his body.

The piece is divided into sections by shifts in Michael Mannion's lighting. The plain spotlights of the beginning are followed by shafts of dappled light, and then by light gleaming through smoke, steam curling around the melting shirts.

Booth changes approach with each shift. He has a trancelike dance, shaking on the spot as if trembling with fatigue. Then he sinks to the floor and slides into balances, tilting handstands and headstands.

Booth dances with muscular clarity, and with the air of a man going through a religious ordeal. His solo is an hour long - a test of endurance for any dancer.

The work demands stamina from the audience, too. Even with careful structuring, and the changes of light and sound, this feels like a long dance. Booth keeps his ritual concentration throughout, but his moves don't all support it. (There were giggles, politely muffled, when he picked up a bucket and soberly did a headstand inside it.) Even so, this is a handsome collaboration, with strong stage pictures of light, mist and dance.