Inside a Photojournalist’s Experiment at an Iowa Wrestling Dual: Extended Exposure, Quick Action I didn’t anticipate that the evening would become a personal creative experiment when I entered the arena earlier this month to cover the Hawkeye women’s wrestling Iowa Dual. It was actually my first time taking pictures of wrestling, and to be honest, it was also my first time going to a wrestling match. I had previously covered a lot of fast-paced sports, but none that could compare to the unadulterated blend of technique, intensity, and constant motion required by the wrestling mat.
As with most assignments, I started by establishing a rhythm—locating the light, experimenting with angles, and gauging the match’s tempo. I was drawn in by the movement as the athletes circled, locked, lunged, and reset. A well-known thought reappeared in the back of my mind while I was taking those typical action shots: What if I tried a long exposure? Almost immediately, the idea became comfortable. Moments when photography transitions from documentation to something more interpretive—when the camera slows down just enough to transform movement into art—have always captivated me.
However, there is a difference between wanting to try something and actually making it work. My initial attempts weren’t what I had anticipated. They lacked direction, clarity, and the deliberate, subtle blur I was trying to capture. It didn’t take long to identify the obstacle: the monopod I had brought was just too unsteady for the shutter speeds I required. The entire frame was thrown off by every tiny adjustment, weight shift, and even the natural tendency to follow the action. I knew I would need to be more prepared when I returned that evening.
I therefore had a tripod and a better idea of the image I wanted to produce when the chance to cover another wrestling dual—the men’s match between Drake Ayala of Iowa and Evan Tallmadge of Pittsburgh—arrived. This time, I took advantage of the opportunity to experiment with shutter speeds during warm-ups. I debated how much blur I could get away with without losing the essence of the action, hovering between 1/3 of a second and slightly faster settings. I could get a little more definition with a faster shutter speed, but the more I experimented, the more it became clear that I had to embrace the blur if I wanted to fully embrace what makes a long-exposure sports image compelling.
I took regular pictures of the early games, making sure to start with crisp, conventional shots. I literally slowed down after I got those. The experience of taking pictures of the match was completely changed by lowering the shutter speed. I had to plant my feet, steady my hands, and practically separate myself from the urge to follow the motion rather than follow the athletes. Any movement I made would cause the background to blend in with the wrestlers, making the entire frame a wash of motion instead of a multi-layered combination of speed and stillness.
I discovered that retraining my instincts was more difficult than the technical environment itself. Sports photographers are trained to keep up with the action, anticipate sudden changes, and make constant adjustments. The opposite is required for long-exposure sports photography. While the shutter is open, you must remain motionless, breathe steadily, and watch the scene develop. In contrast to the rush of fast-action shooting, it’s an odd, almost contemplative experience.
However, the impact was worth the learning curve when the timing was correct. Standard photography is unable to capture the visual rhythm created by the athletes’ blurred limbs, streaks of motion, and subtle ghostlike traces of their movements. The sport of wrestling, which was already characterized by fluidity and intensity, evolved into something nearly abstract, akin to a moving painting taking place on the mat. The experiment changed my perspective on the match, even after only a few tries. I was drawn to the narrative conveyed through motion itself rather than just winning moves or flawless frames. Long exposure captured that essence in a way that felt both artistic and honest: the momentum, the energy, the constant push and pull.
This assignment started out as a standard sports photo shoot, but it evolved into an experiment that challenged my preconceived notions about how we depict athletic movement. Even though I was unfamiliar with wrestling, the challenge of portraying it in a fresh way made me realize why I adore this line of work: there’s always another viewpoint, another method, another moment just waiting to be perceived in a different way. It’s likely that I’ll bring the tripod the next time I approach a mat or any other fast-paced arena. In case the motion requires a bit more blur.
