OXFORD CITY STARS vs LONDON RAIDERS

I walked into the rink unsure of what to expect—drawn not by the rules of the game, but by the rhythms of the space. My camera was my way in, with my lens acting as a translator for a world I’d never touched.

The first image I captured was raw and human—a player off the ice. He was caught in a moment between shifts—between chaos and quiet. The bench wasn’t a place of rest; it was a liminal zone, heavy with anticipation.

The arena had its artifacts, signs of wear, and endurance.

I didn’t know the rules, the players, or even the score. But I began to see the game for what it was: a series of collisions, pauses, and unspoken stories.