Creative Storytelling for the Olympics
Driving into Aspen at night feels like stepping into another country - a small mountain town brimming with energy, its streets packed with people wrapped in wildly expensive puffy jackets and an air crisp with anticipation for the Olmpic ski and snowboard qualification competitions. The Olympics are still months away, but in a way, there was a glimpse of that global magic that was happening here. This was the proving ground, the place where dreams either inched closer to reality or quietly unraveled.
Mike expertly photographing the finish line madness
Mike, good friend and fellow filmmaker who I recruited to join me on this project, and I had just picked up ramen, huddled in the corner of a dimly lit restaurant as the hum of conversation filled the space. It felt like big things were coming as we were eeating something hot before a long weekend in the cold, mapping out our plan between bites of noodles. This wasn’t our first rodeo, but every project brings a different energy. Some are logistical puzzles; others are spontaneous and alive. This was a mix of both.
A moment on top of the halfpipe after a day of filming with the athletes
After our dinner we sprawled across the hotel room floor, our laptops and camera gear covering the space like an unorganized mission control. Conversations unfolded in Instagram DMs with athletes, quick check-ins to confirm who would be around and when. There’s something very modern about this kind of filmmaking where social media served as the initial handshake, the new cold call. We tried to avoid coming in just as media for the event but as storytellers and that meant building trust fast.
Our main focus was on two things for the Olympic committee: capturing the raw energy of the qualification events through photos and crafting athlete profiles that documented the Olympic qualification journey of a few key athletes. The photos had to be dynamic, not just snapshots of a moment but something that made you feel the wind cutting through the air, the nerves in the starting gate, the sheer effort behind every trick. And for the reels, we wanted something more personal to reflect the humanity of the athletes. It’s a challenge to document the small moments that never make the highlight reel but define what it means to chase an Olympic dream.
Once our plan was set, we packed our bags for the next day. Batteries charged, memory cards formatted, lenses cleaned. By the time we collapsed into bed, it was close to midnight, the weight of the weekend ahead just beginning to settle in.
Day 1
Saturday started off fast. A quick coffee, a glance at the sunrise peeking through Aspen’s surrounding peaks, and we were on our way to Buttermilk. The mountain was a flurry of activity with athletes in oversized stylish jackets, coaches making last-minute adjustments, and film crews scurrying around trying to capture the perfect angles.
Photographing an event like this is an exercise in adaptability. You can plan all you want, but once you’re out there, it’s about instinct. I found myself moving constantly, looking for compositions that felt different, angles that might bring a little more soul into the frame.
One of my favorite techniques when shooting action sports is to bring an artistic edge to the images rather than just document them. Too often, event photography falls into a predictable rhythm with crisp action shots at high shutter speeds, the same angles, the same compositions. I wanted to push past that. Skiing and snowboarding, like skateboarding and surfing, have a deep-rooted culture of expression. Style is everything and how someone tweaks a grab, the way they hold their body in the air, even the way they fall can influence their score and reputation. There’s poetry in the details.
So I experimented. I pulled out a prism and held it in front of my lens, bending light and reflections in ways that made the images feel less literal and more dreamlike. The result was surreal with a play of color and distortion that gave depth to an otherwise standard shot. At times, I used super experimental techniques going as far as rubbing snow on the filters to push the textures and adjust contrasts to enhance the drama of a moment. There’s a fine line between gimmick and art, and I was determined to stay on the right side of it.
Throughout the day, I kept reminding myself: Make something memorable. It’s easy to get caught up in the pressure of delivering clean, sharp, technically perfect images. But the photos I love the most aren’t always the sharpest ones. They’re the ones that make me feel something.
That’s where my focus was.
2x Gold Medal Olympian and halfpipe snowboarder Chloe Kim upside down above the fans on her winning run
The style of skiing and snowboarding is something that has always fascinated me. It’s not just about who throws the biggest trick but how they do it. There’s an unspoken hierarchy of style in skiing and snowboarding and while some moves are technically harder, there’s an undeniable respect for the people who make it look effortless, who can inject personality into the same trick that a hundred other people are doing. It’s why someone like Craig Anderson in surfing stands out despite never being the most competitive. It’s why riders like Halldór Helgason and Torstein Horgmo have cult followings. It’s about how you do it, not just what you do.
As the lifts closed for the day, we wrapped up our photo and video capture of the first day. After a long day at Buttermilk, we headed into downtown Aspen for a bit of b-roll, wandering through the streets, eating dinner, and winding down. Later, as we soaked in the hotel’s hot tub, we debriefed the day. It was the quiet part of filmmaking that I loved the most about this experience since sitting in the aftermath with my buddy Mike, talking through what worked, what didn’t, and what we’d try tomorrow kept me excited for another day. Then, back in the room, we pored over the images, editing late into the night so we could deliver them to the Olympic team in Europe.
Day 2
Sunday had a different energy. If the first day was about the spectacle of the photos as we captured the crowd, the big air, the technical feats then the second day was about the human side.
The top of Buttermilk, where the Olympic qualifier competition was being held
Mike and I divided and conquered. He focused on the main events while I skied around the mountain with a few of the athletes, diving deeper into their individual stories. We couldn’t get dedicated time with them in the heat of competition so we wanted to understand what it takes to even get here in these profiles.
I find something so fascinating about the in-between moments in sports. The downtime, the mental preparation, the self-doubt, the camaraderie and the things you don’t see when you’re just watching a highlight reel are super captivating to me. I wanted to document those pieces.
One athlete spoke about how qualifying for the Olympics wasn’t just about pure skill and athleticism, like we all imagine it would be, but how staying uninjured, peaking at the right time, keeping sponsors happy, and managing pressure can really make someone rise above. Handling the weight of something they’d worked for their whole life and knowing it could slip away with one bad run can put a lot of pressure on someone and it’s important to have mental practices to work through that. Another talked about how they were still finding their voice in the sport, trying to carve out a space where they felt like they belonged.
By the time the day wrapped up, I felt like I had a much clearer picture of what this project meant. I didn’t want to just make sick photos or capture rad videos of Olympic qualifiers. I wanted to capture a feeling of the chase, the sacrifice, and the passion is required to be an Olympian.
A couple of enthusiastic fans bringing the stoke at the bottom of the halfpipe
That night, we backed up our footage, turned around the same-day edits, and reflected on everything we had learned. For me, this shoot had been a reminder of why I love this work. The opportunity to push myself creatively while still experiencing adventure or the access people and places that inspire me is such a joy. I feel so grateful to be able to experiment with my craft of photography and filmmaking and to tell stories that mean something .
Skiing and snowboarding has such an amazing culture beyond what we see on tv. It’s so full of expression, innovation, and art. And behind the camera, I wanted to reflect that.
My Takeaway Creativity, Storytelling, and the Pursuit of Style
As I sat on my couch after getting home on Monday, I kept scrolling through the photos and clips from the weekend. The images felt like a true reflection of an energy, a mindset, and a culture that’s so joyful. That, more than anything, was what I wanted to capture.
Experimentation as a Mindset
This project was a reminder that great filmmaking and photography doesn’t happen in a formulaic way. It happens when you allow yourself to experiment, to play, to push past the standard expectations of what an “event photo” should look like.
Holding a prism in front of my lens, using obscure filters, playing with shutter drag weren’t just gimmicks, they were ways to make the scene feel different. To me, the best action sports photography is about capturing the energy of the energy that surrounds it, not just capturing the movement itself. The way light refracts off the snow, the tension in an athlete’s body before they drop in, the feeling of standing at the bottom of a halfpipe, staring up at the impossible all plays into making a gallery that inspires.
I found myself thinking about the work of skate photographers, people like Atiba Jefferson, who don’t just take pictures of tricks but take portraits of movement. That’s what I wanted to channel this weekend for the Olympics. Skiing and snowboarding are about style, self-expression, and personal identity. If I could bring even a fraction of that into my shots, I’d consider it a success.
One thing I noticed during the shoot was how much my favorite photos were the ones that weren’t “clean.” The ones that had motion blur, weird reflections, an almost dreamlike quality. We live in a time where sharpness and perfection are overvalued in photography, but there’s something to be said for grit, for imperfection, for capturing the feeling of a moment rather than just the surface of it.
I’ve always believed that the best images are the ones that make you stop and stare for a second longer than usual. The ones that pull you in and make you feel something, even if you can’t quite explain why. That was my goal on this shoot. I wanted to make people feel the weightlessness of an athlete in the air, the impact of a landing, the sheer excitement of riding at that level.
The Human Side of Competition
One of the biggest takeaways from this weekend was a deeper appreciation for what these athletes go through.
U.S. Silver Medal Olympian Alex Ferreira walking to the top of the podium after a stellar performance in ski halfpipe
For every single athlete I spoke to, the road to the Olympics was filled with equal parts triumph and heartbreak. I met riders who had been working towards this moment for years, knowing that a single bad run could push them just outside the qualification bubble. Others had been to the Olympics before and were grappling with what it meant to go back and doubting if they still had it in them, if they still wanted it.
What struck me the most was how different their mindsets were. Some were completely locked in and focused, intense, hyper-aware of what was at stake. Others had a more detached approach, talking about how they were just happy to be there, enjoying the ride regardless of the outcome.
It made me wonder about the psychology of competition at this level. How do you balance the love of your sport with the pressure to perform? How do you stay creative when every run could define your career? How do you keep it fun when there’s so much on the line?
These were the things I wanted to explore in my filming. I wanted to try to communicate the subtle, unspoken moments of doubt and determination and the weight of expectation. The camaraderie among athletes who are technically competitors but also share a mutual respect that outsiders don’t always see.
That’s something that doesn’t always translate in sports media. Too often, we only see the podium shots, the celebration, or the devastation. But there’s an entire world behind the scenes where these athletes are pushing each other, lifting each other up, making each other better.
Reflections on a Weekend in Aspen
By the time we wrapped everything up, backed up the final files, and sent off the last batch of photos, I felt like I had learned something about the importance of how we tell stories.
There’s a fine line between being a documentarian and being an artist. Event photography like this is often treated as straightforward documentation where we’re supposed to capture what happens, make sure everything is sharp, and deliver clean images. But the best photos are the ones that go beyond that and stand out. They tell a story and can make you feel something.
This weekend reinforced something I’ve been thinking about for a while, the need to push past convention in how I approach storytelling. Whether it’s through a film, a photo series, or a reel, I want my work to feel alive, to reflect the creativity of the athletes I’m capturing.
Because at the end of the day, skiing and snowboarding are forms of self-expression and if I’m doing my job right, the way I shoot should reflect that.
That’s what I want to take forward from this project - the idea that no matter what I’m shooting, there’s always room to be more creative, to experiment more, to push the edges of what’s expected.
Aspen was a reminder that even in a world of strict competition schedules, media deadlines, and client expectations, there’s still space for art. And that’s what keeps me coming back.
Why we should work together…
When I’m not on this website rambling on about filmmaking, I’m actually out there making films. From crafting memorable branded documentaries to capturing stories and products that move people, I’ve got you covered. Need a filmmaker who can scale mountains, brave the surf, or just tell a dang good story? Let’s chat!
In case I haven’t convinced you, here are three reasons why it might be fun to work together…
I believe in stories that stick with you - like campfire smoke on your clothes. The kind that makes you laugh, cry, or immediately want to call your mom.
I’m just as comfortable at 14,000ft as I am in front of a timeline. You get me in the mountains, in the ocean and in the editing room, making sure the magic out there really shines in the final cut.
I’ve filmed in some pretty wild places, but the best stories are the ones that bring people together. It’s those shared moments -big or small - that remind me why I love what I do.
Let’s Connect
Roo is an Emmy nominated commercial/documentary filmmaker and photographer based in Boulder, Colorado but travels all around the world for his filmmaking career. He has directed documentaries for Patagonia in California, produced films for Outside Magazine throughout Europe and Africa, camera operated for Netflix in the Rocky Mountain West, photographed among indigenous communities in South America, and has received notable recognition in his hometown of Orcas Island in Washington State for his work telling uplifting stories in the outdoor space.