the dan milner photography blog: tales of an adventuring photo chimp

April 23, 2015

One Hit Wonders – shooting skiing.. again

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , — danmilner @ 6:03 pm

This week I shot the last of this winter’s shoots, this one for Animal, making the best of some, err, pretty “tricky” conditions (read: hiking slopes at 3400m to scratch a mere whiff of some pretty scant powder) and it’s occurred to me that winter has finally come to an end.

But I’ve got to fess up here. Winter doesn’t have the same appeal as it once did for me, and my winters now include a lot of heading off to dusty climes to shoot mountain biking (more about those trips to follow) in between powder fixes. After photographing wintery antics professionally for over 15 years, sometimes it can be hard to get animated about the prospect of shooting more of the “same old”. So when Voelkl skis asked me to shoot for them again in January, you might think I would have passed it up. After all, how much has skiing (and snowboarding) really changed in the 20 years I’ve pointed a lens at it? How many times can I shoot the “same old”?

Nikon D3s, 70-200/2.8 @ 1/1250, f9

Nikon D3s, 70-200/2.8 @ 1/1250, f9

But then I remember the creativity of photography, the side that got me into this hobby that became my profession, and that’s the key: creativity.  I accept that at times I’m guilty (?) of focussing on the aesthetics of a scene than perhaps creating an in-depth portrayal of an athlete’s personal ability, but hey, that’s what has given me a name in this field.

So when I headed out with the Voelkl team in January, it wasn’t so much the fact that I’ve been headhunted, or the fact that I am shooting prototype ski hardware that the public hasn’t seen yet, or the ridiculously talented skill set the athletes exhibit that left me feeling fulfilled, as coming home with some (in my view at least) aesthetically banging images.

Nikon D3s, 24-70/2.8 @ 1/1000, f6.3

Nikon D3s, 24-70/2.8 @ 1/1000, f6.3

So shooting the “same old” never gets tiring when you realise that the play of light, the way the snow has fallen, or is thrown up, will be like that only once. Just once. You only get one shot when shooting powder, after that it’s tracked and spent. You only get one shot at making it work, at getting creative, at seeing the potential in a scene. Tomorrow it will be gone. And if you seek the creativity in a scene, however much leg-work and muttering to your self like a nutter while everyone else waits patiently it involves, it will pay off.

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