Great pictures aren’t enough anymore, at least not if you want to survive as a photographer today. One strong image might once have been the end of the process, but now it feels more like the beginning of a much larger chain of expectations. Content. Reels. Behind-the-scenes clips. YouTube.
To be honest, that really overwhelmed me at first. Suddenly, finishing a photo wasn’t the goal—it was just one piece of a puzzle. That realization became the starting point for my new YouTube video, where I take you behind the scenes of my Hasselblad Masters shoot in the Alps and explain why adding a full video production changed everything.
When Everything Suddenly Takes Twice as Long
When the chance came to realize my Hasselblad Masters Awards project in the Alps, I wanted to do it right. Out of my $5,000 budget, I invested almost all of it into bringing a filmmaker and a second photographer on board. My vision: a professional behind-the-scenes film that not only documented the shoot but also told a story about how I work. Something that could inspire potential clients and partners beyond the final stills.
So after six days in the mountains, we became a team of three: Daniel, a video producer with DJI launch campaigns on his résumé, and Matthias, a seasoned sports photographer. I had worked with both before, but this time I was the focus of the production. And that changed everything.
Even the first morning in Sölden felt different. Normally, I would throw a couple of lenses in a rucksack and set off. Instead, it was a ritual of unloading the car, checking batteries, sorting food, coffee breaks, cables everywhere. By the time we were actually moving, two hours had already slipped away. The ease I was used to was gone, replaced by the mechanics of a small production.
Two Spectacular Locations, Too Little Time
The gear list alone told the story: Canon full frame, Hasselblad medium format, DJI Ronin 4D, two Mavic drones, and a Syrp slider system. With all this equipment, we ascended to the 3,000-meter Gaislachkogl, the gondola buzzing overhead as a steel-blue sky opened above us.
Two landmarks awaited: the iceQ Restaurant, made famous in James Bond Spectre, and the 007 Elements Museum, a temple to Bond mythology. Both sites were spectacular but also tightly regulated. Months of preparation had gone into securing shooting permissions, especially for the museum, where the franchise licensors guard their image carefully.
Yet once on site, the biggest obstacle wasn’t access but time. We had only two hours in each location. My plan was ambitious: interior shots, light installations for nightfall, plus solid BTS coverage. Meanwhile, Daniel and Matthias each had their own creative ideas to execute. Add tourists into the mix, and I was constantly torn between being photographer and “actor,” juggling too many roles at once.
Eventually, I had to make a call. When I realized my stills were suffering from the split attention, I stopped shooting and gave Daniel and Matthias space to capture their sequences properly. Better to have strong video than mediocre photos. When the last tourist gondola left and silence fell over the mountain, it felt like a relief. We rolled out our sleeping bags inside the visitor center, made tea, and let the sunset wash over us. It was the first moment of calm all day, and it signaled a shift: sometimes letting go is the only way forward.
Insights Between Drone, Twilight, and Design
The quiet didn’t last long. As evening fell, it was time to produce content for sponsors: BTS shots of the Syrp motion control system and Manfrotto tripods. While Daniel and Matthias adjusted lights and camera angles, I found myself in an unusual role—technician and even actor. Setting up sliders, programming motorized axes, running the same move five times in a row. It wasn’t about creating a masterpiece of architecture photography in that moment; it was about creating watchable, useful, repeatable content.
And surprisingly, I enjoyed it. Being in front of the camera as well as behind it was strange at first, but it forced me to loosen my grip on perfection. I couldn’t chase the “perfect shot” every second. Instead, I had to think like a storyteller. That shift made all the difference.
Twilight Work for the Masters Series
Then the day finally gave way to night, and with it, my chance to focus again on the Hasselblad Masters series itself. Daniel and Matthias stepped back. The tourists were gone. The mountain was ours.
I built three images for my ENLIGHTEN series that evening. The iceQ Restaurant became a glowing glass spaceship in the alpine dark, every steel edge and glass surface rendered in exquisite detail by the Hasselblad X2D 100MP. Hours of planning condensed into one moment where everything aligned.
Our final setup was the 007 Elements Museum, which we lit with hidden Aputure MC units placed earlier in the day. Controlled remotely via app, they bathed the façade in just enough light to transform the building into a fortress rising out of the barren mountain. Daniel flew the Mavic 3 Cine to extend the illumination across the ridgeline. The result: a hero shot in X-Pan format that now anchors my Masters submission.
A Morning Painted in Fire
The night was short and restless—thin alpine air, snoring, the usual discomfort of sleeping bags on hard floors. But just before dawn, the sky lit up in a fiery red that lasted only minutes. Every cloud seemed ablaze. It was one of those gifts photographers dream about.
Thanks to the planning we’d done the day before, I knew exactly where to stand. Within minutes, two images were made that would later become fine art prints in my shop. This was the payoff: weather, light, team, technology, and mindset aligning in one rare, unforgettable moment.
Suddenly we were in sync. Daniel filmed, Matthias shot BTS, I worked my frames. We moved as one. Even with exhaustion creeping in, it felt less like work and more like gratitude.
What I Learned From This Production
Looking back, the past 24 hours weren’t just photographically intense—they were humanly intense. Here are a few takeaways I’d share with anyone considering a similar project:
Fewer shots, more time. Forget about bringing home 20 great photos. Focus on a handful, and let the story around them breathe.
Double your schedule. Every change—gear, batteries, data backups, even meals—takes longer than you think. Build in buffers.
Work from a clear shot list. Ours was in Milanote, with references for stills, BTS, and sponsor content. It saved us from duplication and confusion.
Start small. Try a one-day local production before jumping into a ten-day trip abroad. You’ll learn fast what works.
Team chemistry beats expensive gear. Shared energy and trust matter more than any lens or drone.
This production in the Alps showed me how quickly dynamics change when stills and video have to coexist and you’re at the center of it all. It takes energy, planning, and compromise. But the result is a richer story, and for me, it was the first step toward larger productions to come.