Hockey through motorsport photographer lens
I’ve been shooting cars and racing for years. I believe I’ve reached a level where I truly *feel* the rhythm of the track. I can often predict what’s about to happen, anticipating where a car will be on the circuit and exactly where I need to stand. It’s an incredible experience to have that kind of connection—where you no longer have to think, you just know. But there is a downside: every comfort zone breeds habit. While consistency is a strength, it can also be a trap, occasionally leading to a plateau in creativity.
I’ve been shooting cars and racing for years. I believe I’ve reached a level where I truly *feel* the rhythm of the track. I can often predict what’s about to happen, anticipating where a car will be on the circuit and exactly where I need to stand. It’s an incredible experience to have that kind of connection—where you no longer have to think, you just know.
But there is a downside: every comfort zone breeds habit. While consistency is a strength, it can also be a trap, occasionally leading to a plateau in creativity.
Breaking the Routine
When I was planning my calendar, I looked at the gaps in my events and wondered: is it time to step outside my comfort zone? In Finland, the options are clear: landscapes, wildlife, or hockey. Here, hockey is more than a sport—it’s a religion.
For me, it was the natural choice. It may not be motorsport, but it is undeniably an action sport. Thanks to the hospitality of the team at HIFK, I headed to the arena to challenge myself. Different light, different subjects, different timing... different everything.
A Different Kind of Velocity
I have to admit: trying to predict the trajectory of a puck traveling at 150 km/h is a nightmare. I’m certain the photographers who shoot hockey daily have that same intuitive "feel" I have at the racetrack, but for me, it was a steep learning curve.
Still, I pushed through. I applied my racing sensibilities to the ice—using panning techniques, focusing on the background, and looking for unique perspectives. In motorsport, I strive to place the subject within its environment to tell a larger story, and I brought that same philosophy to the arena.
The Human Element
The biggest challenge? The atmosphere. At the track, I’m often alone with my thoughts, moving freely with my earplugs in. At a hockey game, you are part of the spectacle, sandwiched between the roar of the fans and the intensity of the players. It’s a visceral, loud, and stationary experience compared to the miles I walk during a race weekend.
Ultimately, it was a vital exercise. It forced me to see differently and sharpened my reflexes. I’ll definitely be back behind the glass soon—because stepping out of the comfort zone isn't just a challenge; it’s how we grow.