SINGTEX LIBRETTO NO.5
Author: Lee Sean, Project Manager, TRANZEND Division, SINGTEX® Group
Every assignment is a journey of self-challenge. When “I can’t ski” evolves into “I completed the shoot,” he discovers—not just through the lens but within himself—the traces of growth.
Embracing the Challenge of a First Solo Mission
Preparing for this journey was a true test of composure. Although I have long been accustomed to producing visual content independently, learning that I would be traveling alone to Queenstown, New Zealand—9,305 kilometers away from Taiwan—inevitably stirred up a sense of unease. A 24-hour flight, nearly 50 kilograms of product samples, equipment worth hundreds of thousands, and the overall success of the project all rested on my shoulders. “Am I capable enough? Can I deliver? And… I barely know how to ski.”
With these questions lingering, the only thing I could do was prepare meticulously—refining every detail from script development to storyboard design, shaping the vision I hoped to capture.
Holding The Camera Steady In Freezing Air
Learning to Stay Grounded—My First Experience in the Snow
After the long journey, I finally arrived in Queenstown. Exhausted, I ate alone at the hotel and couldn’t help but laugh to myself: “Is this trip really going to push me to my limits?”
On the third morning, we drove an hour and a half to Treble Cone, the primary filming site for showcasing the Ultra Jacket. Models Carrie and Perry were full of excitement, while I—“the photographer who can barely ski”—silently prayed in the passenger seat.
As the car climbed higher, the desert browns outside gradually transformed into pure white. At the summit, the sunlight was so intense I could barely open my eyes. That day, I wore snow gear for the first time, skied for the first time, and stumbled in the snow for the first time. Cold wind seeped into my collar and snow covered my face, but the moment I pressed the shutter and saw the Ultra Jacket gleam beneath the sun, the cold instantly turned into a sense of achievement.
The Moment of Focus Is a Moment of Joy
Over the next few days, we continued filming across different ski fields. My body ached, and I relied on caffeine and determination to persist. Watching the models move effortlessly through the snow, I suddenly understood—when you truly commit to something, even exhaustion becomes a form of joy.
“I want to capture images that move even myself.”
This thought echoed in my mind. So during breaks, I lifted my head toward the snow-capped mountains of the Southern Hemisphere, reminding myself that I was documenting a dream—through my lens.
Looking Back, I Dare to Dream Bigger
As the nine-day journey came to an end, gratitude filled my heart. I am thankful for the models’ support, and to the team for their trust and remote coordination. This journey was not only about fulfilling a task—it became a defining chapter in my professional growth.
Even now, I still see areas for improvement in the final work, but those imperfections fuel my commitment to continuous progress. This “non-skier completing a snow-field production” experience has become an unforgettable milestone—one that reminds me to step forward with courage, even when the path ahead is uncertain.
A focused figure in the snow
