That sharp, metallic kind of cold that sneaks through gloves and settles into your bones before you’ve even finished unloading gear. An ice-cold evening in Switzerland, breath hanging visibly in the air, floodlights already humming in the distance. Somewhere beyond the fog, a women’s flag football team was warming up—laughing, shouting, stamping their feet against the frozen turf to wake their legs up.
This wasn’t going to be a cozy shoot. And that was exactly the point.
As the sun disappeared behind the mountains, the field transformed. Big lights snapped on one by one, carving harsh cones through mist and drifting dust. Every movement suddenly mattered more. Every sprint, cut, and collision of bodies sliced through the fog like a flare. The cold sharpened everything—sound, motion, emotion.
From behind the camera, it felt electric.
Flag football is fast by nature, but in this setting it became something else entirely. The players moved like sparks: quick accelerations, sudden stops, hands flashing out to grab a flag, then gone again. Motion blur wasn’t a flaw—it was the language of the images. Streaked arms, smeared lights, boots tearing up frozen rubber pellets that floated through the air like snow.
You could feel the movement in every frame.
The fog played along, rolling unpredictably across the field, sometimes swallowing players whole before releasing them back into the light. Dust kicked up with every pivot, glowing gold and silver when it crossed the beams of the floodlights. At times it felt less like a sports shoot and more like a night-time battlefield—controlled chaos, adrenaline, total focus.
And yet, there was joy everywhere.
Between plays, the team huddled tight for warmth, steam rising from shoulders and helmets. Someone cracked a joke. Someone else screamed encouragement across the field. Cold fingers taped flags back on, tightened gloves, adjusted headbands. No one complained. If anything, the freezing temperature seemed to bond them closer, sharpen their resolve.
These athletes weren’t just enduring the conditions—they were owning them.
The camera chased that energy. Low angles to make the players tower against the lights. Long exposures to let movement smear and breathe. Frames half-obscured by fog, dust, or a passing shoulder, because perfection wasn’t the goal. Truth was. Speed was. Power was.
Every shot told the same story: this team doesn’t wait for perfect conditions.
They play at night. They play in the cold. They play when the fog rolls in and the ground is hard and unforgiving. They play because this game belongs to them.
By the end of the shoot, toes were numb, hands stiff, batteries dying faster than expected. The field slowly emptied, lights clicking off one by one. The fog lingered, as if reluctant to leave. The silence felt heavy after so much motion.
Back home, scrolling through the images, the cold came rushing back instantly. The blur. The grit. The glow of lights cutting through darkness. You could almost hear the calls, feel the impact, taste the cold air.
An ice-cold evening in Switzerland. A women’s flag football team in full motion. And a reminder that some of the most powerful stories are made when things get uncomfortable.
Camera: Fujifilm X-H2s
Lens: Fujinon several lenses
Filter: none
Location: Switzerland
I'm a freelance Filmmaker in Zurich, looking forward to meeting you here on HIVE and explore visual Art.
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