B-DOG's

Profile and significance

Alex Bellemare is a Canadian freeski slopestyle and big air specialist from Saint-Boniface, Québec, who bridged the contest era of the 2010s with the film-driven energy that followed. Born in 1993, he earned a career-defining bronze medal in men’s ski slopestyle at X Games Aspen 2015 and represented Canada at PyeongChang 2018. Earlier breakthroughs included a first World Cup podium at California’s Mammoth Mountain in 2012, followed by a World Cup victory at the Olympic test event hosted at Phoenix Pyeongchang in 2016 and a World Cup bronze at Font-Romeu in 2017. Those results, combined with consistent film appearances out of Québec, place Bellemare among the standouts of his cohort: a rider with contest-grade execution who also speaks the visual language of urban and park edits.

Bellemare is part of Québec’s deep freeski lineage where rail precision and clean jump shapes matter as much as trick lists. His résumé is significant not only for the hardware, but because it spans the sport’s key stages and formats—from early AFP and World Cup stops to X Games finals and purpose-built short films made back home. For fans, that range makes him a reliable reference point for what “complete” slopestyle skiing looked like through the 2010s and into the early 2020s.

Competitive arc and key venues

The competitive arc began with momentum on the World Cup in March 2012 when Bellemare finished second at Mammoth Mountain, a venue known for XL jump lines that expose takeoff timing and landing discipline. He converted that form into a fourth place at X Games Aspen 2013, then onto the podium in 2015 with X Games bronze. In 2016 he won the Olympic test event at Phoenix Pyeongchang, a course that previewed the layout riders would face two winters later. A 2017 World Cup bronze at Font-Romeu reinforced his consistency ahead of the FIS World Championships in Sierra Nevada, where he finished inside the top ten the same season. He capped that run by making his Olympic debut in 2018.

Venues tell the story of his progression. Aspen’s Buttermilk mountain—home of X Games—rewarded both his rail economy and his ability to hold deep grabs through left- and right-spinning tricks. Phoenix Pyeongchang validated his ability to manage speed on hard, consistent snow and long step-downs. In Europe, Font-Romeu offered a compact, sun-baked park where line speed and setup accuracy separate podiums from also-rans. And Spain’s Sierra Nevada provided the big-stage pressure of a World Championships finals course with changing temperatures and consequential rails.

How they ski: what to watch for

Bellemare’s skiing is built on clarity. On rails he approaches with an early, settled edge set, then locks in without extra shoulder movement. Exits are deliberate and protect speed into the next feature, so his runs feel composed rather than stitched together. On jumps his signatures are full-value grabs held from early in the rotation and landings that stay over the feet. He’s comfortable varying direction—left, right, forward, switch—without telegraphing effort, which keeps judging panels engaged and makes his runs read cleanly on broadcast and rewatch.

If you’re evaluating a Bellemare lap, watch the margins: the way he creates space between tricks, the absence of wheelie-outs, and the quiet upper body on impact. Those cues indicate efficient takeoff timing and strong center-of-mass control, the traits that scaled with him from Mammoth’s XL lines to Aspen finals and then to the Olympic stage.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Like many from Québec’s generation, Bellemare balanced contest schedules with filming blocks. He appeared with Level 1 early in his career and later released Québec-rooted shorts such as “ALKI” and “ECHO,” projects that highlight the same disciplined technique in street and park settings. As his contest calendar eased after 2018, the filming emphasis allowed his skiing to age well: fewer risk spikes, more attention to line design, and a focus on tricks that remain watchable years later.

His influence shows up in the priorities of younger riders from Eastern Canada—especially the insistence on clean lock-ins and held grabs before stacking difficulty. He also modeled a sustainable competitive profile: ramping up to peak events like X Games and World Cups, then channeling that form into polished, concept-driven edits rather than chasing every start list on the calendar.

Geography that built the toolkit

Saint-Boniface sits within reach of Québec City’s lift-served parks and urban terrain. That environment produces repeatability: cold-weather laps that force precise approaches on firm snow, and street features that punish sloppy edge angles. It’s no accident Bellemare’s rail game feels measured—he learned on setups where speed control and line choices are everything. When he traveled, the foundation carried. At altitude in Aspen, he could rely on takeoff timing; under the bright Pyrenean sun at Font-Romeu, he could maintain glide and cadence when the course glazed; in Korea at Phoenix Pyeongchang, his ability to keep speed on long, wind-exposed jumps paid off.

These places also explain his film aesthetic. Québec’s winter light and dense city textures reward moves that are readable at normal speed. That’s why his street and park clips favor clean grabs, direct approaches, and exits that leave room for the camera to breathe.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Bellemare’s longtime alignment with Armada Skis dovetails with his park-and-street focus, while eyewear from Pit Viper and ties to Québec retailer Axis Boutique reflect his local roots. For skiers looking to emulate his feel, the actionable points are straightforward: choose a symmetrical or near-centered park ski with durable edges and a mount that supports presses without compromising takeoff stability; tune bases for consistent glide across variable spring and man-made snow; and pair with bindings set for predictable release rather than maximum retention at all costs.

Brand names won’t replace habits, but his kit underscores durable, repeatable performance. The same setup that wins a test event at Phoenix Pyeongchang should also be able to survive a month of Québec rail laps and a week of filming—Bellemare’s choices reflect that requirement.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Alex Bellemare matters because he embodies contest-proven fundamentals that translate to film. He took X Games bronze in slopestyle, won a World Cup on the future Olympic course, and stood on multiple World Cup podiums, then used that same craft to produce edits worth replaying. For viewers, his runs are a case study in line speed, directional variety, and held grabs; for skiers, they’re a blueprint for sustainable progression built on edges, timing, and composition, not just trick count. Whether you first discovered him on the Buttermilk course at Aspen, the Pyrenees setup at Font-Romeu, or in a night-lit Québec street clip, the through-line is the same: precise skiing that holds up long after the results page is closed.

Profile and significance

Dylan Deschamps is a Canadian freeski slopestyle and big air rider from Québec City, born in 2002, who has rapidly converted junior promise into senior-level hardware. After joining Canada’s national setup in 2022, he announced himself on the world stage with a breakthrough World Cup Big Air victory at Chur in October 2023, then backed it up with additional World Cup Big Air podiums at the same Chur city event and at Beijing’s Shougang venue during the 2024–25 season. He also stepped onto the X Games stage in Aspen in January 2025, a sign of the regard he now commands among selectors. The result is a young athlete already trusted to deliver under lights, in front of big crowds, and on live broadcasts—a résumé that justifies his status as one of Canada’s fastest-rising freeskiers.

Deschamps’ profile is also shaped by a clear equipment identity and community roots. He rides for Faction Skis, represents Québec retailer D-Structure, laces up Phaenom Footwear boots, and uses optics from Spek Optics. Those partners mirror how he skis: durable platforms, readable technique, and line choices that hold up at full speed. Add in NorAm slopestyle podiums during his development years, and you have a rider whose pathway blends contest credibility with habits that make sense on camera.

Competitive arc and key venues

The inflection points are unmistakable. The city big air in Chur gave Deschamps his first World Cup win in October 2023 on a scaffolding jump that exposes timing and approach mechanics like few other venues. One year later, he returned to that same festival atmosphere and opened the 2024–25 season with a bronze—particularly satisfying given it followed months of shoulder rehab. He kept the momentum through early winter with another bronze at the World Cup big air hosted at Beijing’s Shougang Park, the permanent Olympic big air built among the old steelworks. In between, he expanded his repertoire with appearances at Aspen’s Buttermilk during X Games week, taking his trick vocabulary to a field that demands both scale and subtlety.

Before those headline stops, Deschamps established his base with results on the North American development circuit, including slopestyle podiums at Calgary’s WinSport and at Québec’s Stoneham. Those NorAm finishes rarely make primetime broadcasts, but they matter: both venues compress decision-making into short in-runs and demand honest edge angles, habits that resurface when the features get far bigger. As his schedule now oscillates between city big airs, major-event weeks in Colorado, and classic resort courses, you can see a coherent competitive arc—learn precision at home, scale it internationally, and keep the line readable under pressure.

How they ski: what to watch for

Deschamps’ runs are built on deliberate timing and deep, stabilizing grabs. On jumps, he commits to the grab early—safety, tail, or blunt depending on the axis—then holds it long enough to quiet the rotation and keep his shoulders stacked. That makes big-ticket spins look calm, whether he’s forward or switch, left or right. When the course invites it, he’ll use buttered entries or subtle lip interactions as punctuation without sacrificing speed; the trick resolves into a clean outrun rather than a last-second save. On rails, the same economy is obvious: approaches are squared early, lock-ins look decisive rather than dramatic, and exits protect momentum so the next feature arrives on time. Judges reward that readability, and editors love it because it plays cleanly at normal speed.

If you’re evaluating a Deschamps lap, two cues stand out. First, spacing: he creates room between moves so each trick serves the next one instead of stealing from it. Second, axis discipline: even when he pushes rotation count, the spin speed stays measured and the grab choice stabilizes the body rather than decorating the frame. Those traits travel well from Chur’s single-hit intensity to Aspen’s multi-feature builds and Beijing’s iconic silhouette.

Resilience, filming, and influence

His early-season bronze in Chur in October 2024 arrived after a long shoulder rehab, a narrative thread that explains his composure. The comeback wasn’t just about getting healthy; it was about re-establishing habits—speed checks that don’t spill, grabs that lock the axis, landings that finish over the feet. That discipline is exactly why his World Cup podiums don’t feel like one-off spikes. It also resonates with younger riders watching from rope-tow parks and night sessions across Québec and the Midwest: the blueprint here is not trick spam, but trick quality. While Deschamps’ footprint is contest-first, his clips—team edits, training laps, and event recaps—carry the same clarity, which helps turn highlight reels into teachable material for anyone chasing their first 720 with a real grab.

Influence is already visible in the questions fans ask and in the copycat lines appearing in local parks. People want to know how he keeps outruns quiet, how he protects speed into short landings, and why his rotations read cleanly on broadcast replays. The answers point back to fundamentals, and that emphasis is part of why his skiing plays so well in both the data-driven environment of World Cups and the vibe-centric world of film segments.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place explains his balance of finesse and mettle. Québec City’s winter rhythm and the park programs at Stoneham shaped his early habits on firm snow and compact in-runs. Western travel to WinSport added repetition on purpose-built slopestyle panels where rail decisions must be tidy to keep line speed for the jump line. On the global stage, Chur compresses everything into one consequential takeoff where approach mechanics are the whole story, while Beijing’s Shougang Park overlays that precision with a unique stadium setting—wind, lights, camera lines—demanding a calm head. Aspen’s Buttermilk, home to X Games, adds multi-feature flow where rail economy and directional variety across the jump line separate finalists from also-rans. Taken together, these places created a skier whose line looks the same whether the lens is ten meters from a city jump or tracking through a full slopestyle course.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Deschamps’ kit matches his priorities. Faction Skis gives him symmetric, park-capable platforms with edge durability for repeated rail contact and a balanced flex that won’t fold on big-air takeoffs. Phaenom Footwear boots aim for progressive flex and straightforward hardware—useful traits when long training blocks and quick turnarounds test your setup. Goggles from Spek Optics and hometown support via D-Structure round out a sponsor mix rooted in function first. For skiers looking to translate that into action, the lessons are simple: pick a symmetrical or near-symmetrical park ski and mount it so presses feel natural without compromising takeoff stability; tune edges to hold on steel yet detune contact points enough to avoid surprise bites on swaps; and build a lens quiver that preserves contrast when light changes mid-session. Gear won’t replace timing, but the right platform makes good timing repeatable.

Equally practical is how he builds his season. Early repetitions on consistent resort parks sharpen timing; city big airs test commitment under pressure; and marquee weeks at venues like Buttermilk demand a full package—rails, variety, and jump execution. That rhythm is a workable template for ambitious riders moving from local contests to international starts.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Dylan Deschamps matters because he pairs creativity with contest-grade clarity. He already owns a World Cup victory and multiple World Cup podiums in big air, and he has proven that the same habits—early grab commitment, measured spin speed, and momentum preserved through landings—scale from NorAm slopestyle stops to city stadiums and the X Games stage. For viewers, his skiing is easy to follow and satisfying to rewatch; for developing skiers, it offers a concrete blueprint that turns “style” into a sequence of teachable details. Keep him on your radar—he’s part of the generation pushing difficulty without sacrificing the qualities that make freeskiing beautiful in real time.

Profile and significance

Édouard “Edjoy” Therriault is a Canadian freeski original from Lorraine, Québec, born in 2003, whose blend of creativity and big-ticket execution made him a fixture on World Cup broadcasts and a cult favorite in modern park skiing. After grabbing global attention with big air silver at the 2021 World Championships in Aspen, he added World Cup podiums in both slopestyle and big air, a start at the Olympic Winter Games, and multiple appearances at the X Games. In June 2025, still only 22, he announced he was stepping away from the World Cup start gate to pursue film-forward, art-driven skiing—leaning into the same “frequenski” ethos that has always set him apart. His partners mirror that identity: he rides for Atomic and pours creative energy into projects with Monster Energy, streetwear collective Capeesh Supply, and Québec core retailer D-Structure.

Therriault’s nickname hints at the program. “Edjoy” is both a persona and an instruction: make skiing read like live music. The approach shows up in trick selection, in how he punctuates lines, and in edits that mix painting, filming, and sound design. He is a true crossover—contest-tested yet unmistakably an artist on skis—whose output resonates with park skiers, judges, and casual viewers in equal measure.

Competitive arc and key venues

The progression beats are clear. In 2019 he won junior world slopestyle gold at Sweden’s Kläppen, a venue renowned for shaping world-class park skiers. Two seasons later, at Aspen’s Buttermilk, he landed a clutch final-run switch double bio 1800 to claim silver at the FIS World Championships—Canada’s best big air result at that level at the time. He followed with a first World Cup podium in slopestyle at Font-Romeu in January 2022 and then a big air silver on the stadium jump at Beijing’s Shougang Park in December 2023. Along the way he earned starts at the X Games in Aspen, a setting that rewards both amplitude and personality.

These sites are more than pins on a map. Kläppen compresses decision-making into clean rail work and measured jump speed. Buttermilk demands multi-feature flow under cameras and crowds. Font-Romeu’s Pyrenean light and rhythm emphasize landings that preserve speed. Shougang’s permanent city big air, framed by repurposed steelworks, tests commitment under pressure. As he transitions from tour stops to film missions, expect those habits to translate: precise approaches, trick variety with purpose, and outruns that stay quiet without showy recoveries.

How they ski: what to watch for

Edjoy’s trademark is timing. He commits to grabs early—safety, tail, or blunt to taste—and holds them long enough to calm the axis and keep the shoulders stacked. It’s why his spins, even at 18 and 19 rotations, read as deliberate rather than frantic. Switch entries arrive with proper drift control, not skid; takeoffs are tall and patient; landings finish over the feet with speed intact. On rails he prefers decisive lock-ins and exits that protect line momentum. Nothing feels accidental, yet nothing feels over-coached—the rare balance of skate-inspired looseness and contest-grade precision.

When evaluating a Therriault lap, look for spacing. He leaves room between moves so each trick sets up the next one. Look also at how the grab choice stabilizes the spin instead of decorating it; that discipline keeps axes clean even when the rotation count climbs. The effect is skiing that plays beautifully at normal speed and rewards frame-by-frame rewatching.

Resilience, filming, and influence

World-level highs came early, but the story since 2024 has been autonomy. Injury spells and the grind of qualification reshaped his priorities, culminating in a 2025 decision to step away from World Cup big air and slopestyle. Rather than soft-pedaling, he redirected the same intensity toward projects that merge street features, backcountry booters, and visual art. The result is a rider who still treats difficulty as a canvas, just without the clock. Because he communicates his process—why a certain grab choice steadies a bio axis, how to build speed into short landings—his clips double as teaching material. Younger skiers imitate his patience into lips and his habit of finishing tricks early enough to ride away with composure.

Influence also comes from tone. Edjoy champions style as substance, not garnish. The mantra—be your own jazz—encourages skiers to choose tricks that suit the venue, then execute them with rhythm, not panic. That perspective travels well, whether the setting is an urban kink in Montréal, a spring line on Whistler’s public park, or a single-hit stadium jump.

Geography that built the toolkit

Therriault grew up lapping the Laurentians at Tremblant, where cold Quebec nights and compact snow teach honest edge angles and measured speed checks. As his calendar expanded, the places became teachers: junior world gold at Kläppen reinforced variety and flow; Worlds silver at Buttermilk validated composure on camera; a first World Cup slopestyle podium at Font-Romeu rewarded terrain-reading in variable light; big air silver at Shougang Park proved he could deliver under stadium pressure. Those venues—and the communities surrounding them—explain why his skiing feels centered no matter the build.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Edjoy’s current hardware is straightforward and functional. With Atomic he uses park-capable platforms built for pop and predictable swing weight, ideal for early-grab, measured-spin skiing. Energy and production backing from Monster Energy keeps the cameras rolling when a project needs multiple build days. Apparel from Capeesh Supply and shop support via D-Structure tie him to the creative, rider-run side of the sport.

For skiers trying to borrow from his playbook, the actionable notes are simple. Choose a symmetrical or near-symmetrical park ski and mount so butters and presses feel natural without sacrificing stability on takeoff. Keep edges sharp enough to hold on steel but soften contact points to avoid surprise bites. Pick goggle lenses that preserve contrast at dusk, typical of evening sessions at city-style venues like Chur and in flat light common to alpine bowls. Most importantly, treat the grab as a control input: locking it early stabilizes the axis and keeps landings clean.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Édouard Therriault matters because he reconciles freeskiing’s two big impulses—art and sport—without diluting either. He owns a world championship medal, World Cup podiums, and Olympic and X Games credentials, yet he’s equally committed to film segments that advance style, sound, and story. The skiing itself is readable at full speed, the choices are intentional, and the execution holds up under the brightest lights. Whether you watch for slopestyle craft, big air nerve, or the next wave of street-influenced edits, Edjoy offers a blueprint: creativity first, mechanics tight, momentum preserved. That combination is why he sits near the center of freeski culture even as he steps away from ranking points and leans harder into the work that made his name.

Profile and significance

Ferdinand “Ferdi” Dahl is a Norwegian freeski original whose blend of contest pedigree and culture-building has made him one of the most influential park and street skiers of his generation. Born in 1998 and raised around Oslo, he broke through on the biggest stages with multiple medals at the X Games—slopestyle bronze in 2019, slopestyle silver in 2021, and slopestyle bronze again in 2023—while stacking nine FIS World Cup podiums and two Olympic appearances, including an eighth place in slopestyle at PyeongChang 2018. Those results alone would secure his status. But Dahl’s impact extends further: he co-founded the rider-led Jib League series that reframed what a freeski “contest” could be, and he channels his design sensibility into the apparel label Capeesh Supply. The result is a rare dual footprint—elite competitor and thoughtful scene shaper—whose skiing reads clearly at full speed and whose projects elevate the wider culture.

Today, Dahl’s priorities span performance and stewardship. You’ll still see him under stadium lights at Buttermilk in Aspen during X Games week or dropping mid-winter edits from Europe and North America. You’ll also see him building spaces for others to shine, whether that’s hosting a jam-style Jib League stop with fellow founders James “Woodsy” Woods and Øystein Bråten, or releasing small-batch garments that carry Capeesh’s playful, skaterly aesthetic. He skis for Vishnu Freeski and rides with Monster Energy, a sponsor mix that mirrors his commitment to rider-run creativity and broadcast-level execution.

Competitive arc and key venues

Dahl’s contest résumé maps the modern freeski ladder. Early Europa Cup and World Cup starts led to a breakout Olympic debut at the PyeongChang 2018 Games, staged at Korea’s Phoenix Park, where he placed eighth in men’s slopestyle. World Cup consistency followed, culminating in nine podiums and back-to-back seasons ranked among the very best in slopestyle overall. In Aspen, the X Games medals arrived across four winters, validating a trick vocabulary and run composition that judges reward and fans replay.

Venue context explains why his skiing travels so well. Buttermilk rewards multi-feature flow and line design under heavy camera pressure; Phoenix Park’s Olympic stage compresses everything into immaculate takeoffs and unforgiving landings; Austria’s in-city Nordkette Skyline Park demands cadence on dense rail panels; Sweden’s Kläppen serves long spring laps where measured speed and early commitments separate a good run from a great one. As Dahl pivoted some focus toward film and rider-led events, he didn’t abandon competition; he reframed it. Jib League’s jam format—skier voting, style-forward criteria—moved the needle while keeping the difficulty and clarity that defined his World Cup and X Games success.

How they ski: what to watch for

Dahl’s skiing is a case study in readable difficulty. On rails, approaches are squared early, body position stays stacked, and lock-ins look decisive rather than dramatic. Surface swaps resolve cleanly; presses have shape instead of wobble; exits protect momentum into the next setup. On jumps, he favors measured spin speed and deep, functional grabs—safety, tail, or blunt held long enough to stabilize the axis. That early grab timing keeps shoulders quiet and landings centered, so the outrun breathes instead of becoming a last-second save. Directional variety—forward and switch, left and right—shows up without breaking cadence because every choice serves the line.

Two tells help you “read” a Dahl run in real time. First, spacing. He leaves room between moves, so each trick creates setup for the next one rather than stealing from it. Second, grab discipline. The hand finds the ski early and stays there long enough to influence rotation, not just decorate the frame. That’s why even his bigger spins look calm, and why editors can present his clips at normal speed without resorting to slow-motion rescue.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Longevity at the top level requires adaptation. After years of traveling the World Cup and major-event circuit, Dahl broadened his canvas: spring projects in the Alps, on-camera head-to-heads in SLVSH games, and the co-creation of Jib League with Woods and Bråten. The through-line is composure. Whether the setting is a single-hit scaffolding jump, a multi-feature slopestyle course, or a dense rail garden at Nordkette, he protects speed, commits to control inputs early, and finishes tricks with enough time to ride away clean. That reliability earns trust—from judges tallying slopestyle scores, from peers voting in jam formats, and from filmmakers who want clips that hold up after ten replays.

Influence shows up far beyond podium photos. Jib League’s format centers skiers as voters and storytellers, and its stops have become required viewing for anyone who cares how style and difficulty can coexist. Capeesh, meanwhile, exports the same ethos via apparel drops and creative videos—small teams, rider agency, humor intact. Add in years of high-profile clips and a deep library of World Cup runs archived at Olympics.com, and you have a body of work that doubles as instruction: honest speed, early commitments, centered landings.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place is the skeleton of Dahl’s skiing. Oslo’s compact hills and firm winter snow built edge honesty and quick decision-making; repeated laps discipline the feet and hands. The Alps supplied longer radii and faster in-runs, especially at Nordkette, where dense features reward timing and rail economy. Spring blocks at Kläppen layered in rhythm on creative setups and medium-to-large booters, and the annual pilgrimage to Buttermilk honed broadcast composure. On the Olympic stage at Phoenix Park, he proved those habits survive the brightest lights. Stitch those environments together and you get a toolkit that travels: protect momentum, manage spin speed with the grab, and keep the run’s shape intact from first rail to last landing.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Dahl’s current setup mirrors his philosophy. With Vishnu Freeski he rides a park-capable platform with balanced swing weight and reinforced edges that tolerate repeated rail contact without unpredictable flex. Energy and event support from Monster Energy keeps the spotlight on projects that showcase skier agency, while Capeesh Supply lets him translate taste into design. If you’re looking to borrow from his gear decisions, the lesson is category fit over model names: choose a symmetrical or near-symmetrical park ski, mount it so butters and presses feel natural without compromising takeoff stability, keep bases fast so cadence survives cold or salt, and tune edges to hold on steel yet soften contact points to avoid surprise bites on swaps. Equipment won’t replace timing, but the right platform makes good timing repeatable across long filming days and pressure-heavy finals.

Equally practical is how he structures a season. Early repetitions on consistent parks sharpen approach mechanics; jam-style events test composure under variable pace and crowd energy; and marquee weeks at places like Buttermilk demand the full package—rail clarity, directional variety on jumps, and airtight landings. That rhythm is a template ambitious riders can copy on the path from local edits to international relevance.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Ferdinand Dahl matters because he turns elite difficulty into clarity and then uses his platform to grow the culture around it. He owns multiple X Games medals, deep World Cup credentials, and Olympic finals experience, yet he’s just as committed to rider-run spaces like Jib League and to creative output through Capeesh. The skiing itself is easy to follow at normal speed because the mechanics are honest: early grab commitment, measured spin speed, and landings that preserve momentum for the next move. For viewers, that means segments worth replaying; for developing skiers, it offers a concrete checklist—square the approach, use the grab as a control input, finish the trick early, and let the line breathe. That combination of results, readability, and stewardship is why Ferdi sits at the center of freeski culture today, whether the backdrop is an Olympic venue, a televised course in Colorado, or a rail garden above Innsbruck.

Profile and significance

Jérémy Gagné is an emerging Canadian freeski rider from Stoneham, Québec, working his way from national circuits to regular World Cup starts in slopestyle and big air. A graduate of the Stoneham Acrobatic Ski Club, he joined Freestyle Canada’s NextGen group in 2023 and quickly converted junior promise into senior-level consistency. In 2023 he closed out the domestic season as overall Toyo Canada Cup freestyle champion, then carried that momentum onto bigger stages with top-16 World Cup finishes the next winter. His appeal is straightforward and durable: readable difficulty at full speed. Approaches are squared early, grabs are functional rather than decorative, and landings keep enough speed to let the next decision arrive on time.

Competitive arc and key venues

Gagné’s résumé charts a steady climb. After NorAm podiums in 2022–23, he stepped into the 2023–24 World Cup with credible finishes, including 15th in slopestyle at Stubai and 13th in big air at Chur. He returned to North America with a 13th in slopestyle at Mammoth Mountain, proof that his habits translate across course designs and snowpacks. In 2025 he added major-championship experience at the Freestyle World Championships in St. Moritz, posting a complete three-run series in big air and finishing in the top 30 overall. He also lined up at the Stoneham World Cup slopestyle at home and started at the U.S. Grand Prix stop at Buttermilk in Aspen—venues that reward broadcast composure as much as trick lists. Venues tell part of his story. Early repetitions at Stoneham and nearby Le Relais built edge honesty and quick setups on firm laps; World Cup blocks at Mammoth Mountain and Aspen’s Buttermilk added the precision and pacing that televised courses demand; Québec’s scene-driven gatherings at Vallée du Parc reinforced line design under the pressure of a live crowd.

How they ski: what to watch for

Gagné skis with deliberate economy. On rails he centers mass on contact and locks in decisively, which turns surface swaps into clean, finished shapes rather than wobble. Exits protect momentum so the next feature arrives naturally. On jumps he manages spin speed with deep, stabilizing grabs—safety, tail, or blunt depending on axis—arriving early enough to quiet rotation and keep hips stacked over the feet. Directional variety shows up without breaking cadence; forward and switch, left and right, the choices serve the line instead of a checklist. If you’re watching in real time, track spacing between moves and the length of the grab—two cues that explain why his bigger tricks look unhurried.

Resilience, filming, and influence

World Cup winters are long and unforgiving, with travel, variable weather, and changing course radii week to week. Gagné’s consistency comes from process. He treats the grab as a control input, not a flourish; he “finishes” spins with time to ride out centered; and he trims speed with small, on-purpose checks that do not spill into the landing. Those habits helped him stack respectable results early in his World Cup life and made his clips easy to present at normal speed. At home, appearances at community-led sessions in Québec keep him visible to developing riders who value a blueprint more than a highlight reel: smooth entries, clean exits, and lines that hold their shape from first feature to last.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place explains the feel of his skiing. The Québec City corridor provides dense repetition across two complementary hills: Stoneham for longer laps, night sessions, and contest-style sections; Le Relais for compact in-runs, efficient rail gardens, and high-frequency practice. Add spring missions and national-team camps at larger venues like Mammoth Mountain and televised stages at Buttermilk, and you get a toolkit that survives different snowpacks and approach angles without changing its identity.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Gagné’s partner mix reflects rider-led culture and repeatable feel. Shop support from Québec institution D-Structure keeps his setups tuned and reliable. Outerwear and streetwear from Vulgus match a day-after-day filming and training rhythm, while Armada provides park-capable platforms with predictable swing weight and pop. For progressing skiers, the lesson is category fit over model names: symmetrical or near-symmetrical park skis mounted so presses feel natural without sacrificing takeoff stability; fast bases so cadence doesn’t depend on perfect weather; and edges sharp enough to hold on steel yet softened at contact points to avoid surprise bites on swaps.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Jérémy Gagné matters because he turns the modern freeski syllabus into something most riders can study and copy. Domestic titles, credible World Cup finishes, and major-event reps show a ceiling still rising; the mechanics—early commitments, functional grabs, centered landings—make the skiing readable at full speed. For viewers, that means runs worth replaying. For skiers, it’s a checklist you can practice on your next lap: square the approach, use the grab to stabilize the axis, finish the trick with time to spare, and leave every feature with enough speed for the next move.

Profile and significance

Kim Lamarre is a Canadian freeski pioneer who helped define women’s slopestyle on the world stage. Born in 1988 in Québec City and raised in Lac-Beauport, she became the bronze medalist in the inaugural Olympic women’s slopestyle at Sochi 2014, sharing the podium with teammate Dara Howell. That medal—earned after years of setbacks—cemented her as one of the touchstones of the sport. Her résumé also includes bronze at Winter X Games Europe Tignes 2011 and bronze at Winter X Games Aspen 2014, plus a fourth place at the 2011 FIS World Championships. In 2018 she returned to the Olympic stage at PyeongChang, closing a chapter that began on rope tows and small Quebec parks and grew into prime-time runs at the biggest venues in freeski. Off snow, she has been a coach and French-language analyst for Canadian broadcasts, bringing a rider’s eye to viewers who want to understand why a great slopestyle run “reads” so clearly at full speed.

Lamarre’s career is also a study in perseverance. Multiple ACL tears cost her significant time and even a national team slot, so she self-funded parts of the 2013 season, rebuilt the trick list, and then rattled off results: second at the Dew Tour in Breckenridge that December, X Games Aspen bronze in January, and the historic Olympic bronze in February. In the language of freeski, that arc speaks louder than any tagline.

Competitive arc and key venues

Before the Olympic breakthrough, Lamarre established bona fides where slopestyle’s credibility was forged: X Games and World Championships. A comeback from injury culminated in bronze at Winter X Games Europe in Tignes in 2011, alongside a fourth at the FIS Worlds that same winter. After another injury cycle, she rebuilt momentum with a podium at the Dew Tour stop in Colorado, then added X Games Aspen bronze in January 2014—the last major tune-up before Sochi. One month later at Rosa Khutor’s slopestyle course, she qualified strongly and then delivered an 85.00 in the final to secure Olympic bronze in the event’s debut. Four years later she competed again at PyeongChang 2018, proof of staying power in a demanding discipline.

These results came on some of the sport’s most scrutinized stages. Aspen’s purpose-built slopestyle venue at Buttermilk rewards broadcast composure and immaculate takeoffs. Tignes’ X Games setup distilled European jump and rail design into a tight, technical flow. The Sochi course at Rosa Khutor—where slopestyle entered the Olympic canon—required calm approaches and precise speed control under global pressure. Closer to home, Lamarre’s foundations trace to the Québec City corridor, particularly Le Relais in her hometown of Lac-Beauport and Stoneham just up the road, where firm nights and dense park laps teach edge honesty and fast decision-making.

How they ski: what to watch for

Lamarre’s skiing is built on readable difficulty. She squares the approach early, lets the skis run straight into takeoff, and uses the grab as a control input rather than decoration—tail, safety, or mute chosen for what the axis needs. That timing quiets rotation and allows landings to finish over the feet, so the outrun breathes and the next feature arrives on time. On rails, she prefers decisive lock-ins with fully resolved surface swaps; presses carry visible shape instead of wobble. Directional variety—forward and switch, left and right—appears because it serves the line, not to tick boxes.

If you’re evaluating one of her classic Aspen or Sochi clips, track two cues. First, spacing: the run leaves room between moves, turning a sequence of tricks into a sentence that the camera can follow at normal speed. Second, the length of the grab: hands find the ski early and stay long enough to influence rotation and pitch, which is why even heavier spins look unhurried. Those details made judges and viewers align on the same impression—clean, composed, and complete.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Few slopestyle careers have been so publicly shaped by injury and return. Lamarre absorbed multiple ACL tears, missed seasons, and the uncertainty of rebuilding in her mid-20s, then re-emerged with the most important results of her life clustered inside three months. That story matters as much as the medal count because it codified habits that younger athletes copy: treat the grab as steering, finish the move early, protect momentum, and trust that clean inputs age well on camera and with judges. Her Olympic bronze came with the added weight of history—first women’s slopestyle at the Games—which made it an instant reference point for Canadian freeski.

Her influence extends beyond bibs. As a mentor and on-air analyst, Lamarre translates trick math into understandable language: why a switch takeoff changes line planning, how a long grab stabilizes a 720 off a medium booter, why a tidy rail exit preserves speed for the next setup. That clarity helps park skiers progress and helps general audiences appreciate why some runs “feel” right even before the score appears.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place explains the feel of Lamarre’s skiing. The nightly laps and compact in-runs at Le Relais in Lac-Beauport and the longer lines at nearby Stoneham provided high-frequency repetition on firm snow—perfect for learning precise speed management and centered landings. Travel added complementary classrooms: Colorado’s Breckenridge for Dew Tour-caliber lines, Aspen’s Buttermilk for camera-ready takeoffs and outruns, and the Olympic build at Sochi for the pressure test that only the Games can deliver. Stitch those environments together and you get a toolkit that works anywhere: calm inputs, full-length grabs, and exits that preserve momentum.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Lamarre’s hardware story mirrors her phases. Early-career years included time with athlete-driven Armada Skis, a brand embedded in park culture; later she signed with LINE Skis, aligning with a team known for creative, rider-led design. The common thread is predictability—swing weight you can trust for early-grab spins and edges that hold on steel without turning brittle in a week. For skiers applying the lessons, think category fit over model names. Choose a symmetrical or near-symmetrical park platform, mount so butters and presses feel natural without compromising takeoff stability, keep bases fast so cadence isn’t weather-dependent, and detune contact points just enough to avoid surprise bites on swaps while keeping real edge where you need bite.

On the soft-goods and support side, national-team infrastructure carried her through the biggest stages, but the practical takeaway for everyday riders is simpler: tune, wax, and speed control matter more than wattage. Lamarre’s best runs are masterclasses in how a well-prepared, predictable setup lets technique show through.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Kim Lamarre matters because she turned the hardest part of slopestyle—making difficulty look easy—into a blueprint at the precise moment the world first tuned in. An Olympic bronze in the discipline’s debut, two X Games bronzes on different continents, and a decade of presence in the scene prove the ceiling; the way she skis explains the appeal. For fans, her runs are endlessly rewatchable because the decisions are clear and the execution is calm. For developing skiers, the checklist is actionable on the next lap: square the approach, lock the grab early to steer the axis, finish the move with time to spare, and leave every feature with speed for what comes next. That is why her name endures—from night laps in Lac-Beauport to Buttermilk broadcasts and the history books of Sochi 2014.

Profile and significance

Mat Dufresne—often credited as Mathieu “Mat” Dufresne—is a Quebec street and park skier whose profile has grown through short films and rider-led sessions more than traditional ranking sheets. Based around Montréal and the Laurentians, he broke out internationally by winning Level 1’s SuperUnknown XIX in 2022, a milestone that signaled to the wider freeski world that his blend of rail precision, creative spot choice, and effortless style belonged on the global stage. Since then, he has doubled down on street projects including MTL, MTL 2, and the 2024 short “Word to the Wise,” while stepping into high-visibility jam formats like Dew Tour Streetstyle. He matters because he shows what modern freeski progression looks like when it’s rooted in streets and local parks, then pressure-tested at headline events.

Competitive arc and key venues

Dufresne’s most important “result” is cultural: winning SuperUnknown XIX at Mammoth in 2022, which placed his name alongside prior era-defining winners and validated his approach in front of peers and brands. That week unfolded in the Unbound parks at Mammoth Mountain, famous for XXL rails and progressive jump lines that expose any technical shortcuts. In March 2024 he added breadth by qualifying through heats in Men’s Ski Streetstyle at Copper, bringing his street-born timing to a live-event format at Copper Mountain. Away from contest scaffolding, the primary “venues” of his career are the handrails, ledges, walls, and stairsets of Montréal, and the park laps at Versant Avila in the Les Sommets network—two environments that reward accuracy, speed control, and quick resets. His films have screened on the fall festival circuit, including the iF3 tour organized by iF3 Festival and showcases linked to Annecy’s High Five Festival, reflecting growing recognition for his street work.

How they ski: what to watch for

Dufresne’s skiing is built on economy and definition. On rails, he favors stable, locked body positions—backslides and presses that are held long enough to read clearly, then released with minimal arm swing. Watch his early edge set as he steps onto kinks or waterfall features; that pre-emptive pressure management keeps the base flat and lets him exit square. Change-ups tend to be quiet and centered rather than dramatic, which makes the line flow and helps him keep speed for the next feature. On small-to-medium jumps and side hits, the trademark is patience into the lip, grabs established early, and rotations that come from the hips instead of a rushed upper-body huck. The net effect is “replayable” skiing: slow any clip down and you’ll see checkpoints—tall approach, stacked takeoff, neutral shoulders, soft ankles on landing—that progressing skiers can copy.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Street skiing in and around Montréal means thin cover, variable run-ins, and fast decision-making. Dufresne leans into those constraints with smart feature prep and trick choices that read well on camera, turning scarcity into a style advantage. His 2024 short “Word to the Wise,” shot and edited with longtime Quebec filmer-host Xavier Mayrand, distilled a season’s worth of urban sessions into a compact statement about timing and line reading. That project followed earlier MTL and MTL 2 chapters and continued a run of festival recognition, including nominations at iF3. Between winters, he keeps close to the scene via community sessions—think summer laps and pop-up jam days—where he passes on drill-based habits that make his clips look so composed. In aggregate, the films and sessions have made him a reference point for street-first skiers who still want the composure to step into bigger park builds when it counts.

Geography that built the toolkit

Dufresne’s toolkit reflects the places he rides most. The rails and ledges of Montréal sharpen his approach speed and commitment—there’s rarely room to recover once you drop. Repetition at Versant Avila gives him lap volume on tight, feature-dense lines that demand quick feet and balanced exits. Time at Mammoth’s Unbound layered in XXL spacing, long decks, and wind management, while Streetstyle at Copper Mountain brought the pressure of bright lights and one-take runs. Together these environments yield a skier who reads terrain instantly and picks options others miss—an asset whether the spot is a city handrail or a contest rail garden.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Dufresne rides with J Skis, including a collaborative “Poutine” graphic on the playful Vacation platform, and leans on the simple, durable feel of Joystick poles. In his backyard scene he works closely with Axis Boutique, a long-standing Quebec hub for park and street skiers. For riders trying to emulate the look, the gear lessons are straightforward: detune contact points to reduce unexpected edge bite on rails; choose a mount that keeps the ski balanced for presses and switch landings; and prioritize predictable flex over pure stiffness so you can stay centered as you exit features. Off-snow, build the same habits seen in his clips—trampoline timing, balance drills, and deliberate video review—so patience at the lip and quiet shoulders become automatic.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Dufresne is a case study in how strong fundamentals plus good taste can travel from neighborhood rails to major parks. Fans get clean, creative urban clips that hold up to repeat viewing. Developing skiers get a roadmap for building reliable rail and side-hit technique without needing the biggest jumps or deepest snowpacks. In a freeski landscape that values both film parts and event moments, his SuperUnknown title at Level 1, his Streetstyle appearances at Copper Mountain, and his continued film output around Montréal and Versant Avila make him a reliable watch for anyone who cares about rail craft, composure, and creative line choice in modern freeskiing.

Profile and significance

Olivia Asselin is a Canadian freeski standout from Québec who blends film-ready style with contest composure. Born in 2004 and raised in the Québec City/Lévis corridor, she rose through Stoneham’s club scene to the national team and broke out internationally with a bronze medal in Women’s Ski Big Air at the X Games in 2022. She followed that with Women’s Ski Knuckle Huck gold in 2024 and, in 2025, a defining weekend at Aspen that delivered Women’s Ski Street Style gold and Slopestyle silver. At the Olympics in 2022, Asselin made both finals, finishing eighth in Big Air and 11th in Slopestyle, underscoring her ability to translate style into major-stage results. World Cup podiums—third in Big Air at Copper Mountain in December 2022 and third in Slopestyle at Tignes in March 2024—round out a résumé that now straddles culture and medals. With partners including Armada, Monster Energy, and Smith Optics, she has become a reference point for skiers who prize clean mechanics and fresh ideas as much as difficulty.

Competitive arc and key venues

Asselin’s arc reveals a rider equally at home in rider-judged street formats and structured courses. The 2022 X Games bronze announced her to a global audience. In January 2024 she won the first Women’s Ski Knuckle Huck, an event that rewards creativity, timing and touch more than raw amplitude. In January 2025 she captured Women’s Street Style gold and Slopestyle silver at Aspen Snowmass, proving she can win on rails under floodlights and then podium on a full slopestyle course the next day. Along the way she stacked results that show breadth: a World Cup Big Air podium at Copper Mountain, a World Cup Slopestyle podium at Tignes, and wins in rider-led formats like Spring Battle at Absolut Park and a street title on the city setup in Innsbruck. Those venues map her progression cleanly. Stoneham taught night-lap repetition; Mammoth Mountain and Aspen demanded XL spacing, wind calls and pressure management; European parks like Tignes and Absolut Park honed rail density and long-line rhythm.

How they ski: what to watch for

Asselin’s skiing reads calm and deliberate. Into the lip she stays tall and neutral, then sets rotation late and locks grabs early so the trick breathes. On jumps, watch how she spins both directions in a run without rushing the set; grabs are defined before 180 degrees and held through the axis, which keeps the body stacked and the landing quiet. On rails, the signature is composure: locked presses and backslides that hold just long enough to be obvious, surface swaps with minimal arm swing, exits with square shoulders to maintain speed. In Street Style and urban-style jams, that economy becomes advantage—she uses the whole setup, hitting transfer options and disaster takeoffs without sacrificing flow. The big-picture tell is “replayability”: slow any clip down and you’ll find the same checkpoints—tall approach, patient pop, early grab, soft ankles on impact.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Asselin’s emergence coincided with a moment when women’s freeskiing expanded its event palette. By podiuming in Big Air, winning the debut of Knuckle Huck for women, and then claiming Street Style gold, she helped define what modern versatility looks like. Film-heavy weeks at events such as Spring Battle sharpened that voice further; the video-based format rewards riders who can craft coherent, stylish lines on their own terms. Her consistency in rider-curated street contests in Innsbruck added another layer of credibility in urban-influenced settings. The through-line is a repeatable movement language—clear setups, decisive presses, and measured takeoffs—that has become a study guide for developing riders. When she steps into televised slopestyle, the same habits make finals runs look composed rather than improvised.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place matters in Asselin’s skiing. The night network and compact laps at Stoneham built edge precision, rail timing and switch comfort; you can see those roots in how confidently she links rail features. Training blocks at Mammoth Mountain added jump cadence, wind reads and the patience needed for longer decks and higher speeds. World Cup stops at Copper Mountain and Tignes layered in contest rhythm and the ability to reset after misses. Europe’s Absolut Park and the urban scaffolds in Innsbruck reinforced her line-reading in feature-dense environments where creativity and efficiency trump brute force. Finally, Aspen Snowmass is the proving ground that now defines her public profile, a place where she has shown she can win under lights one night and deliver medals on a full course the next day.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Asselin’s choices reflect priorities that progressing skiers can copy. With Armada she rides playful, press-friendly park platforms that still feel predictable on big takeoffs; with Smith Optics she focuses on contrast and lens clarity for flat-light park laps; with Monster Energy she aligns with a team deeply embedded in the X Games ecosystem. The practical setup lessons are simple: detune contact points enough to reduce rail bite without giving up edge hold on the lip; choose a mount point close to center so switch landings stay neutral; and keep binding ramp angles that don’t force you into the backseat. Process matters as much as hardware. Build a “knuckle huck toolkit” on smaller hits—hand drags, flat 5s, late shiftys—then scale those touch-based moves into slopestyle where they add style without costing speed.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans care because Asselin is exciting in multiple languages of freeskiing: she can stack a stylish street run under floodlights, thread a long slopestyle line with both-way spins, or float a knuckle trick that looks effortless. For developing riders, her clips are a masterclass in patience and definition. She shows that high-level skiing does not require constant risk escalation; it requires clear plans for each feature, early grab definition, and exits that preserve speed for what comes next. The results—X Games golds in Knuckle Huck and Street Style, X Games silver in Slopestyle, X Games bronze in Big Air, finals at the Olympics, and multiple World Cup podiums—are milestones, but the real takeaway is how she earned them: by pairing creativity with fundamentals that hold up to slow-motion scrutiny.

Profile and significance

Philippe “Phil” Boily-Doucet is a Quebec freeski rider from the Montréal/Laurentians scene whose lane blends credible contest experience with a film-first, street-driven output. Born in 2000, he surfaced through tightly cut edits and small-crew projects before stepping into bigger urban films alongside leading Quebec riders. In 2018 he logged a World Cup appearance at the downtown Québec City Big Air, finishing 16th in front of a skyline crowd, and the same season added Nor-Am starts that sharpened his timing under pressure. In the film lane, he co-starred in “MTL 2,” a Montréal street project directed by Xavier Mayrand that earned selections at iF3 and the High Five Festival, and followed it with the short “Word to the Wise,” a compact statement on line reading and rail craft. Boily-Doucet’s significance sits at the crossover: a rider who can hold his own inside the start gate yet communicates best when the camera is close and the spot is the story.

Competitive arc and key venues

Boily-Doucet’s contest résumé maps the classic Quebec pathway. After local starts, he reached the city-center World Cup in Québec City in March 2018, then hit Nor-Am dates at Aspen/Buttermilk and Mammoth where speed control, wind calls and long decks expose weak habits fast. In the years since he has leaned toward rider-curated formats that reward creativity and flow, making finals nights at B-Dog’s Off The Leash in Shawinigan and joining the street-style gatherings that define the province’s culture. Parallel to that, the film calendar placed him at the heart of Montréal’s urban grid, where a handrail, a bike-rack down bar, or a tight in-run can turn into a memorable line if the setup, trick choice and exit are clean.

Venue-wise, the places tied to his name explain the skiing as well as any results column. Night laps at Versant Avila teach repetition and square entries on dense park lines; day trips to Bromont and Mont Tremblant add longer rhythm and variable light; the downtown scaffold in Québec City introduced big-air spacing and a TV-style pace; and Montréal’s neighborhoods provide the urban textures—kinks, close-outs, weird run-ins—that make his street parts replayable.

How they ski: what to watch for

Boily-Doucet skis with economy and definition. Into a takeoff he stays tall and neutral, sets rotation late, and locks grabs before 180 degrees so the trick breathes. On rails, look for long, decisive presses and backslides held just long enough to read clearly; surface swaps with minimal arm swing; and exits where the shoulders stay square so momentum survives into the next hit. He tends to organize edge pressure early—especially on kinks and waterfall rails—so the base stays flat and the landing looks inevitable rather than rescued. Even when he stacks complex lines, the approach remains calm: hips over feet, soft ankles on impact, speed preserved for whatever comes next.

Resilience, filming, and influence

The film arc is where Boily-Doucet’s profile accelerated. “MTL 2” positioned him beside Mat Dufresne and Paul Vieuxtemps in a director-driven sequel that ran on festival screens and in fall tour stops, validating the project’s mix of spot choice, careful shovel work and clean execution. “Word to the Wise,” released the following winter, distilled that approach into five minutes that riders can study frame by frame—patient entries, tricks chosen for how they read on camera, and exits that keep speed for the next feature. Between releases, he has been a reliable presence at Quebec’s scene-building events, where voting skiers and floodlights replace judging booths and clipboards. The influence is cumulative: parts and sessions that normalize a style-first, repeatable version of street skiing.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place explains the method. Montréal’s grid supplies the rails, ledges and walls that force accuracy at low to medium speeds; a small mistake at the top punishes the entire line. The Laurentians’ parks—especially Versant Avila—deliver lap volume under lights, perfect for drilling square entries, quiet shoulders and clean exits until they become automatic. Sessions at Bromont and Mont Tremblant add longer spacing and flat-light management, while the city-center jump in Québec City injected big-air cadence and pressure management. A winter’s worth of Shawinigan laps for B-Dog’s community jam added the peer-review pressure that comes when your judges are the riders you look up to.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Boily-Doucet’s recent projects have been supported by Quebec shops and rider-run brands around the scene, including appearances in films backed by J Skis, LINE Skis and Axis Boutique. The hardware lesson for progressing park and street skiers is simple. Choose a true park ski with a balanced, medium flex you can press without folding; detune contact points enough to reduce rail bite while keeping dependable edge hold on the lip; and mount close enough to center that switch landings feel neutral. Equally important is the process his clips model: film your laps, compare shoulder alignment and hip-to-ankle stack against clear checkpoints, and iterate until patient pop, early grab definition and square-shoulder exits are automatic.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans care about Phil Boily-Doucet because his skiing holds up in slow motion. The lines are built from teachable choices—calm entries, grabs that lock early, presses that last long enough to read—and they make you want to take another lap. Developing riders care because the same choices scale to normal parks and real city snowpacks. If your winter looks like night laps at Avila, weekend missions to Bromont or Tremblant, and the occasional urban shovel session, his blueprint shows how to turn limited speed and imperfect conditions into clips with high replay value.

Profile and significance

Philip “B-Dog” Casabon is a Canadian freeski icon from Shawinigan, Québec, whose style-first language—presses, butters, nollies, reverts, and shiftys that breathe—reshaped modern park and urban skiing. He rose through night laps at his local hill, Vallée du Parc, and became one of the most influential riders of his generation by proving that creativity, definition, and flow can outweigh brute force. His cultural footprint is matched by hardware: back-to-back gold medals at X Games Real Ski in 2018 and 2019, plus the 2018 Fan Favorite nod, cemented his status as a peer-elected standard. In the same window, he released the widely praised film “En Particulier” with Brady Perron and was named Freeskier’s Skier of the Year, a rare double for a rider focused on film and street. Casabon matters because he made style specific and teachable—clips that hold up frame by frame and a movement language that any progressing skier can study and apply.

Competitive arc and key venues

Casabon’s competitive résumé is unconventional by design. Early in his career he tested himself in slopestyle at Aspen, making multiple Winter X Games appearances when the discipline was still defining itself. As urban skiing’s broadcast moment arrived, he shifted to segments and rider-curated showcases that better matched his voice. The pivot paid off: his 2018 X Games Real Ski gold, delivered alongside the Fan Favorite award, was followed by a repeat gold in 2019—rare back-to-back wins that confirmed his dominance in the all-video, all-street format. In the culture-defining B&E era at Les Arcs, he collected “Best Style” honors in both 2014 and 2015 on a skate-inspired setup designed to reward touch and originality. Those landmarks—Aspen’s spotlight, Real Ski’s medals, and Les Arcs’ style awards—map the arc of a skier who used competition as a proof-of-concept for ideas refined in edits.

The places tied to his name help explain the skiing. Vallée du Parc gave him the repetition and switch comfort that show up in his lines. Aspen’s big-build tempo at Aspen Snowmass taught wind calls, long decks, and pressure management under cameras. The B&E park at Les Arcs encouraged butters into spins, long presses, and transfers that value feel over amplitude. Together they shaped a rider who reads features instantly and turns modest speed into full sentences of skiing.

How they ski: what to watch for

Casabon skis with economy and definition. Approaches stay tall and neutral. He sets rotation late, locks grabs early—often with unmistakable tweaks—and lets the trick breathe rather than rushing the set. On rails, the signatures are square entries, long-held presses and backslides that are obvious to the eye, surface swaps with minimal arm swing, and exits where the shoulders stay aligned so momentum carries into the next feature. Even when the spot is complex, he organizes edge pressure early to keep the base flat through kinks, which is why his landings read inevitable rather than rescued. On jumps and side hits the same patience appears: pop comes from the feet up, grabs are defined before 180 degrees, and the upper body stays quiet so the skis do the storytelling. The result is a blueprint any rider can study—calm entry, patient pop, early grab definition, square-shoulder exit.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Casabon’s influence runs through films and community projects as much as medals. He built a decade-long catalog of replayable segments, culminating in the late-2010s run that paired Real Ski golds with a festival-tested film presence. The work emphasized honest speed, horizon awareness, and compositions that make slope angle and body organization clear—choices that help viewers learn, not just watch. In the B&E era, his partnership with Henrik Harlaut created a platform where style was the scorecard, then pushed those ideas back into parks, streets, and product design. Interviews and long-form conversations from this period reveal a method that prizes durability over hype: habits you can repeat when conditions are imperfect and cameras are rolling.

That durability—plus a willingness to mentor—keeps his influence alive in a generation that learns from edits. Coaches use his clips to illustrate patient setups and clean exits; riders break down his presses and shifty timing to build their own lines. He is both reference and proof: you do not need the world’s biggest jump to show world-class skiing if your movements are organized and your choices are clear.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place explains the method. Shawinigan’s Vallée du Parc is a human-scale hill where repetition is abundant and mistakes are obvious. Night laps there forged the switch comfort, precise edging, and patience that define his rail game. The spotlight and wind at Aspen Snowmass layered in big-feature timing and composure. The creative modules at Les Arcs rewarded a horizontal vocabulary—presses, butters, wheelies—that Casabon helped popularize, proving that expression at low to medium speeds can be as compelling as amplitude. When you trace the map, you see the fingerprints in every clip: local-hill repetition, big-park patience, and skate-park creativity applied to snow.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Casabon’s long relationship with Armada extended far beyond sticker placement. His pro model BDog and the experimental BDog Edgeless in Armada’s Zero Collection were designed to serve his priorities—predictable flex for presses and butters, confidence on switch landings, and swing weight that stays honest on slower-speed pops. The gear lessons for progressing skiers mirror that logic. Choose a true park ski with a balanced, medium flex you can bend without folding. Detune the contact points enough to reduce rail bite while maintaining dependable edge hold on the lip. Mount close enough to center that presses sit level and switch landings feel neutral. Keep binding ramp angles that don’t tip you onto your heels. Then build a process that matches the hardware: film laps, compare shoulder alignment and hip-to-ankle stack against a short checklist, and repeat until the movements become automatic. The setup is the scaffold; the habits are the house.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans care about Philip Casabon because his skiing ages well. The clips prioritize timing, organization, and line design over noise, which is why they survive slow-motion scrutiny years later. Progressing skiers care because the same choices are teachable on normal parks and real snowpacks. If your winter looks like night laps on a small hill, weekend missions to a destination park, and a few street sessions with friends, his blueprint shows how to turn limited speed and imperfect conditions into memorable skiing. The medals—back-to-back X Games Real Ski golds and Fan Favorite in 2018—are milestones; the lasting takeaway is a method: calm entry, patient pop, early grab definition, square-shoulder exit, and a flow that connects a run into a single sentence. That is why B-Dog remains essential viewing for anyone who cares about freeskiing’s style, substance, and future.

Profile and significance

Rudy Lépine is a Québec-born freeski rider and filmmaker whose urban/street skiing and calm, precise movement have made him a reference for edits-first progression. After early years in the Laurentians, he based himself in British Columbia around Whistler Blackcomb, where steady filming blocks shaped a catalog of replayable parts. Lépine’s profile surged with “PSYCHOACTIV” (2022), a rider-led project he directed and co-edited, and “Delirium” (2024), a joint release with Level 1 that stitched together Canadian cityscapes into a single street statement. As an athlete with ON3P Skis, he pairs credible rail craft with a filmmaker’s eye, producing clips that riders slow down to study. His significance sits at the intersection of style and method: he shows how freeski technique—especially for slopestyle and urban/street skiing—can be organized, repeatable, and learned without a bib or a mega-park.

Competitive arc and key venues

Lépine’s lane is film-first, not rankings-first. The touchpoints that matter are projects and places. “PSYCHOACTIV” introduced a tightly curated mood piece featuring Québec talent, followed by “Delirium,” filmed across Vancouver, Calgary, Toronto, Montréal, and Québec City. Those cities—and their rails, ledges, close-outs, and thin snowpacks—explain his skiing better than any result column. When the mountains call, long filming windows around Whistler Blackcomb provide consistent lips and light to refine jump cadence and speed control. The outcome is an urban rider whose timing reads cleanly whether the scene is a handrail in Montréal or an evening park lap in the Coast Mountains.

How they ski: what to watch for

Lépine skis with economy and definition. Into the lip he stays tall and neutral, sets rotation late, and locks the grab before 180 degrees so the trick breathes. On rails he favors square, unhurried entries; backslides and presses held just long enough to be unmistakable; and exits with shoulders aligned so momentum carries into the next hit. You’ll notice minimal arm swing, early edge organization that keeps the base flat through kinks, and landings that read centered and inevitable—hips over feet, ankles soft. Even when the spot is complex, the approach looks calm, which is why his clips hold up to slow-motion scrutiny and translate directly to slopestyle features and urban/street skiing alike.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Lépine has been candid about navigating concussion history and mental-health turbulence—context that informs the patience visible in his skiing. Rather than chase constant escalation, he builds edits that value honesty of speed, clear setups, and exits that preserve flow. “PSYCHOACTIV” set that tone: a rider-directed film made with close collaborators. “Delirium” widened the lens with a Level 1 joint, blending friends’ segments into a cohesive Canada-wide street tour. Because the shots are framed to show slope angle, approach speed, and body organization, his work doubles as a study guide: viewers can pause, check shoulder alignment, and copy the checkpoints on their next park lap.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place explains the method. Montréal and Québec City provide handrails, walls, and tight in-runs that force accuracy at low to medium speeds—perfect for learning line design and preserving speed between features. The filming corridor through Vancouver, Calgary, and Toronto adds different snowpacks, lighting, and stair geometries, sharpening decision-making under pressure. In British Columbia, extended time at Whistler Blackcomb layers in consistent takeoffs, dependable rhythm lines, and wind reads that carry over to larger park builds. Trace those dots and you’ll see their fingerprints in every segment: urban commitment, park repetition, and patient timing that works anywhere.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

With ON3P Skis he rides press-friendly, predictable park platforms that accept a thoughtful detune at the contact points yet stay composed on bigger lips. Past film credits note support from rider-run outfits and creative partners tied to specific projects. For skiers trying to borrow his feel, the hardware lessons are straightforward: choose a true park ski with balanced, medium flex you can bend without folding; detune tips and tails enough to reduce rail bite while maintaining reliable lip grip; and mount close enough to center that presses sit level and switch landings feel neutral. The bigger “equipment” is process—film laps, compare shoulder alignment and hip-to-ankle stack against a short checklist, and repeat until patient pop, early grab definition, and square-shoulder exits become automatic.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans care about Rudy Lépine because his skiing ages well. The edits prioritize timing, organization, and line choice over noise, which is why they invite rewatching—and why coaches use them to explain modern freeski mechanics. Progressing riders care because the same choices are teachable on normal parks and real city snowpacks: calm entries, grabs established early, presses that hold long enough to read, and exits that preserve speed for what’s next. If your winter looks like night laps in Québec, weekend missions to Canadian cities, and a few floodlit sessions in the mountains, his blueprint shows how to turn limited speed into stylish, reliable freeskiing across slopestyle features and urban/street skiing.

Profile and significance

Thomas “Tom” Galarneau is a Canadian freeski rider from Saint-Sauveur, Québec, who blends contest chops with an edits-first, street-friendly outlook. A graduate of the Ski Acro Québec slopestyle program, he broke onto broader radars with Nor-Am starts and a string of film and community projects, including a solo street part titled “Metamorphosis” and back-to-back SuperUnknown semi-finalist nods. Recently welcomed to the Surface Skis team, he’s part of a new Québec wave that treats parks and streets as the same classroom—calm approaches, patient pop, and clips that read clearly at half speed. Galarneau’s significance lies in that clarity: he is an emerging rider whose skiing is both replayable and realistically teachable.

Competitive arc and key venues

Galarneau’s competitive résumé runs through Canada’s Nor-Am circuit with key results in 2022. He earned a top-ten in men’s slopestyle at WinSport Canada Olympic Park in Calgary during the February Nor-Am stop, then added starts at Aspen’s Buttermilk venue and the Québec end-of-season swing at Stoneham Mountain Resort. Those venues matter: WinSport’s compact, purpose-built course rewards timing and line efficiency; Buttermilk’s broadcast-grade decks force honest speed and late-set patience; Stoneham’s XL 418 park and night-skiing rhythm build rail timing you can carry into the streets.

Parallel to contests, he chased peer-judged and edit-driven milestones. His solo project “Metamorphosis” screened at Montréal’s iF3 Urban stop, signaling a pivot toward street storytelling, and his SuperUnknown semi-finalist selections with Level 1 confirmed he could stand out in a global am field. Add appearances at Québec community sessions and rider-run gatherings, and the result is an athlete developing in both public scoreboards and the culture that sets taste.

How they ski: what to watch for

Galarneau skis with economy and definition—the two traits that make modern slopestyle and urban/street skiing readable. Into a jump lip he stays tall and neutral, sets rotation late, and locks the grab before 180 degrees so the axis breathes on camera. On rails, look for square, unhurried entries; backslides and presses held just long enough to be unmistakable; surface swaps with minimal arm swing; and exits where the shoulders stay aligned so momentum carries to the next feature. Even at higher difficulty the landings read centered and inevitable—hips over feet, ankles soft—so you see the idea rather than the recovery. It’s a movement language you can slow down and learn from.

Resilience, filming, and influence

“Metamorphosis” was Galarneau’s statement that edits matter as much as rankings. Framed as a first full season in the streets, the part shows the shovel work, speed checks, and one-try pressure that define Québec urban skiing—thin cover, short in-runs, tight exits. The cut’s pacing lets viewers read slope angle and approach speed without guesswork, which is why it played well at iF3 and across the park/urban community. SuperUnknown semi-finalist slots in consecutive years extended that reach to an international audience that watches with the pause button, measuring timing and body organization as much as difficulty.

Since joining Surface Skis, he has mixed travel days in Utah—spring laps captured at Park City Mountain and sessions at Woodward Park City—with edits and premieres back home. The thread through all of it is repeatability. Tricks are chosen for how clearly they read and how well they set up the next shot, not just for shock value. That approach tends to influence younger riders more than a single viral clip; it’s a style you can copy on a weeknight park.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place explains the method. In the Laurentians, Saint-Sauveur’s freestyle hub at Versant Avila provides dense rail sets and high-volume night laps that turn calm entries and square exits into habits. Year-round acro work at iMaximise layers in air awareness, safe reps on airbags, and trampoline precision that carries straight to jump cadence. East of Québec City, Stoneham offers an XL park with big-deck timing and the lighting that keeps slopestyle rhythm sharp. When the circuit heads west, WinSport concentrates features into a contest-style line, while Colorado and Utah trips—Park City and Woodward Park City—add consistent shapes for drilling entries, grabs, and landings under changing wind. Thread those spots together and you can see their fingerprints in every clip.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Galarneau rides with Surface Skis, aligning with a program known for street-capable twins and a film-forward ethos. For skiers who want to borrow his feel, the hardware lessons are straightforward. Choose a true park twin with a balanced, medium flex you can press without folding and that stays predictable on moderate-size takeoffs; detune contact points just enough to reduce rail bite while keeping trustworthy grip on the lip; and mount close enough to center that switch landings feel neutral and presses sit level. Keep binding ramp angles from tipping you into the backseat so hips can stack over your feet. More important than any single product is the workflow his edits model: film laps, check shoulder alignment and hip-to-ankle stack, and repeat until patient pop, early grab definition, and square-shoulder exits are automatic.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans care about Thomas Galarneau because his skiing survives slow-motion scrutiny. The clips emphasize timing, organization, and line design over noise, whether the backdrop is a night lap at Versant Avila, an XL day at Stoneham, or a contest build at WinSport. Progressing riders care because the same choices are reproducible in the parks they actually ride: stay tall into the lip, set late, define the grab early, hold presses long enough to read, and exit with shoulders square so speed survives for what’s next. As his film catalog grows alongside selective starts, Galarneau offers both a proof of concept and a blueprint for turning modest features into confident, stylish freeskiing.

Profile and significance

Vince (Vincent) Prévost is a Québec freeski rider from the Laurentians whose strongest footprint is in street and night-park culture. Active since the early 2010s, he showed up in Montréal’s film scene via crews like Brotherhood/ESK and made noise with a run of contest-clip crossovers that mirrored the province’s urban DNA. His breakthrough for many viewers was a win at Sommet Saint-Sauveur’s community-driven park challenge in 2015, followed by a local-to-global moment the next winter when he earned a wildcard invite to a downtown Québec City urban showcase backed by Red Bull. In edits and event weeks alike, Prévost’s skiing reads at half speed: calm setup, patient pop, early grab definition, and square-shoulder exits that keep speed for what comes next.

Today his lane is film-first and scene-facing. He mixes segments with friends, park laps around the Laurentians, and periodic roles behind the camera or on judging panels at Québec events, helping translate the province’s street language for the next wave. It’s a profile built on clarity rather than hype, which is why coaches and everyday park riders still pass his clips around a decade after he first appeared on local big screens.

Competitive arc and key venues

The résumé traces a distinctly Québec route. In March 2015 Prévost won the Mont Saint-Sauveur Challenge, a local proving ground on the Laurentians circuit at Sommet Saint-Sauveur. In February 2016 he was among the wildcard selections for the inaugural ReDirect in Québec City—an urban-course battle hosted by Red Bull that combined invited pros, locals and Stairsmaster picks under a jam format. In early 2017 his name surfaced again in Stairsmaster’s entry slate as the Jamboree week returned downtown; while that series is rider-judged and video-based, it tests the same rail timing and speed honesty the streets demand.

Recent years show him toggling between appearances and curation. Prévost has been part of the off-season and early-winter orbit around Shawinigan’s Vallée du Parc, where a new school of street-inspired events has grown. He has also spent time around Québec City’s resort axis, including the XL-park lines and night sessions at Stoneham Mountain Resort, whose Parc XL 418 is built for big-deck timing and busy rail gardens. Those venues, plus Saint-Sauveur’s SnoPrk at versant Avila, explain how his contest cameos and film parts keep the same cadence.

How they ski: what to watch for

Prévost skis with economy and definition—the two traits that make slopestyle and urban/street skiing teachable. Into a takeoff he stays tall and neutral, sets rotation late, and locks the grab before 180 degrees so the axis breathes on camera. On rails he favors square, unhurried entries; presses and backslides held just long enough to be unmistakable; quiet surface swaps; and exits where the shoulders remain aligned so momentum carries into the next hit. Landings read centered and inevitable—hips over feet, ankles soft—so even when difficulty creeps up, the shot looks like one sentence rather than a series of rescues.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Québec’s scene is edit-driven, and Prévost embraced that model early. He stacked park-plus-street clips with Brotherhood/ESK during the iF3 era, then used short, replayable parts to stay present while friends cycled between work, school, and winter storms. A hallmark of his recent seasons is community stewardship: showing up at sessions, judging when asked, and helping riders organize speed and spot work so their tricks read clearly. That feedback loop—film, watch, refine—keeps his influence tangible even without a tour of podiums.

Geography that built the toolkit

Place explains the movements. The Laurentians corridor gives him density: the restricted-access Main Park at SnoPrk on versant Avila turns calm entries and square exits into habits by sheer volume of laps. East along the river, Stoneham adds long decks and mixed light, which punish rushed takeoffs and reward late, patient sets. Downtown Québec City has hosted scaffold big-air and urban builds, sharpening wind reads and speed choice. And in Mauricie, Vallée du Parc supplies compact, crowd-close setups that demand clarity. Stitch those maps together and the fingerprints show up in every clip.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

Prévost’s recent tags include skis from Faction, optics and helmets from Giro, boots from Phaenom Footwear, outerwear via O’Neill, winter accessories from Kombi Canada, and regional support through Québec City’s Radical Shop. For skiers trying to borrow the feel, the hardware lesson is simple. Choose a true park twin with a balanced, medium flex you can press without folding; detune contact points enough to reduce rail bite while keeping trustworthy grip on the lip; and mount close enough to center that switch landings feel neutral and presses sit level. Keep binding ramp angles from tipping you into the backseat so hips can stack over feet. More important than any single product is the workflow he models: film a lap, check shoulder alignment and hip-to-ankle stack, then repeat until patient pop, early grab definition, and square-shoulder exits become automatic.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans care about Vince Prévost because his skiing is legible and durable. The same language—calm approach, late set, defined grab, centered landing—shows up whether the backdrop is a night lap at versant Avila, an XL session at Parc 418, a riverside street setup in Shawinigan at Vallée du Parc, or a city build in Québec City. Progressing riders care because those choices scale to ordinary features and weeknight parks. If you’re looking for a blueprint that turns modest terrain into confident, stylish freeskiing, his clips—and the venues that shaped them—are a practical place to start.

Profile and significance

Vincent Gagnier—known across freeskiing as “Vinny Cash”—is a Canadian style authority and trick innovator from Victoriaville, Québec. A Big Air Olympic cycle never defined him; X Games and rider-driven projects did. His signature moment came at Aspen in January 2015, when he won Ski Big Air under the lights at Buttermilk/Aspen Snowmass, outscoring Bobby Brown and Elias Ambühl with spin-and-grab combinations that favored originality over brute rotation. The gold followed his 2014 X Games silver in the same event and set up a streak of marquee wins, including the men’s ski title at the Polartec Big Air at Fenway Park in 2016—an FIS World Cup stop staged on a 140–150-foot scaffold jump in downtown Boston. Beyond medals, Gagnier is the rare rider whose movement language (creative off-axis spins, late bringbacks, and unusual grab families like venom/genie variations) reshaped what park and big-air style could look like on camera and in person.

His significance extends from podiums to culture. He helped bridge the Quebec street/park sensibility with broadcast-stage events, and he carried that same grammar to peer-judged formats like SLVSH and to rider-led gatherings such as the B&E Invitational at Les Arcs. In an era that often rewards sheer spin count, Gagnier made a career of showing that novel axes, perfectly timed grabs, and controlled landings can win big while aging gracefully in slow motion.

Competitive arc and key venues

Gagnier’s arc reads like a case study in resilience and taste. In April 2014 he shattered a thoracic vertebra while filming—a T5 injury that required surgery—then returned eight months later to win X Games Big Air at Aspen. The next season he doubled down on scaffolding venues and stadium shows, taking the Polartec Big Air at Fenway Park in February 2016 and adding top results at invitational big-air stops including Frostgun in Val d’Isère. Along the way he kept entering rider-curated formats: SLVSH games at Sierra-at-Tahoe (2020) and under the lights at Grandvalira’s Sunset Park Peretol (2019 and 2023) showcased his technical imagination without a start gate.

Place matters to how his skiing reads. Aspen’s broadcast-tight schedules and perfectly shaped booter at Buttermilk reward tricks that breathe on camera. Fenway’s one-hit World Cup ramp magnified decision-making: honest speed, precise pop, and mid-air organization visible from center field. Les Arcs’ skate-park-inspired B&E courses prized flow and transition literacy over single-feature heroics. Back home, laps at Mont-Sainte-Anne and night sessions around the Laurentians kept his rail timing and jump cadence sharp between tours. Thread those venues together and the through-line is obvious—clarity that survives environment changes.

How they ski: what to watch for

Gagnier skis with economy and definition—the two traits that make high-level freeskiing readable. Into a takeoff he stays tall and neutral, sets rotation late, then establishes the grab before 180 degrees so the axis is honest. When he layers complex grab combinations—think venom/“genie” families or seatbelt-style crosses—he does it without sacrificing flight path or landing stack. Bringbacks (arresting rotation to “come back” on a previous axis) work because edge pressure and body alignment are organized early; the skis release cleanly, then re-engage on command instead of via a save. Landings look inevitable—hips over feet, ankles soft—so the clip reads like one sentence instead of a string of recoveries.

On rails and transition features, the signatures are square, unhurried entries; presses held long enough to be unmistakable; minimal arm swing on swaps; and exits with the shoulders aligned so momentum carries to the next hit. The common checkpoints—calm entry, patient pop, early grab definition, stacked landing—make his footage unusually instructive for coaches and progressing riders.

Resilience, filming, and influence

Film seasons and rider-run projects kept Gagnier’s influence compounding long after the medal run. He contributed to SLVSH’s movie cuts and game weeks, where peers judge every detail, and he appeared in community-facing premieres from Montréal to the Alps that put creative mechanics in front of young park skiers. After his 2014 back injury and later knee setbacks, the comeback chapters emphasized method over magnitude—proof that timing and organization beat gymnastic force over a full career. That ethos carried into brand projects as well: recent seasons have seen him release short-form edits and collaborate on limited skis that foreground his movement ideas rather than just his résumé.

In Québec, he also shows up as a culture carrier—podcasts, festival juries, and shop/community shoots—translating style concepts (why a grab is defined early, why a landing stance matters) into language skiers can apply on weeknight laps. The result is influence you can measure: riders copy the checkpoints and find their clips improving, even on modest features.

Geography that built the toolkit

Gagnier’s toolkit is geographic. Early and ongoing laps at Mont-Sainte-Anne supply repetition and night-park cadence—perfect for drilling patient pop and clean exits. The X Games stage at Aspen Snowmass tests the same habits at broadcast pace on a world-class booter. Stadium scaffolds like Fenway Park punish any mid-air indecision and reward tricks that present clearly from a single hit. In Europe, Val d’Isère big-air scaffolds and the creative lines at Les Arcs forced transition reads and line-building that go beyond a straight jump. And in Andorra, Sunset Park Peretol adds floodlit pressure and fast resets, exposing sloppy organization immediately. Those places created the fingerprints visible in every part and podium: honest speed, early definition, and landings that set up the next move.

Equipment and partners: practical takeaways

In recent seasons Gagnier has been supported by J Skis, Blenders Eyewear, and Québec’s Axis Boutique; earlier in his career he rode with brands like Salomon and O’Neill. For skiers trying to borrow the feel, the hardware lesson is principle-based. Choose a true park twin with a balanced, medium flex you can press without folding and that remains predictable on larger lips. Detune contact points just enough to reduce rail bite while preserving trustworthy grip for takeoffs. Keep the mount close to center so switch landings feel neutral and presses sit level, and avoid binding ramp angles that tip you into the backseat. More important than any product spec is the process visible in his edits: film your laps, check shoulder alignment and hip-to-ankle stack, and repeat until patient pop, early grab definition, and square-shoulder exits are automatic.

Why fans and progressing skiers care

Fans care about Vincent Gagnier because he proved, on the sport’s biggest stages, that creativity and clarity can beat raw spin count—then he spent the next decade turning those choices into a teachable language. Progressing riders care because the same decisions scale to realistic parks and scaffolds alike: stay tall into the lip, set late, define the grab early, and land stacked so speed survives into the next feature. Whether the backdrop is a World Cup jump inside Fenway Park, X Games night at Buttermilk, a creative line at Les Arcs, or laps at Mont-Sainte-Anne, his blueprint shows how freeskiing can be both progressive and legible—clips that hold up at half speed today and still look right in ten years.