Profile and significance
Eric Iberg is a pioneering freeski filmmaker and culture-builder from Edina, Minnesota, whose fingerprints are on some of the most influential ideas, crews, and events in modern skiing. At 21 he quit college, picked up a 16mm camera, and released Royalty (2001), a tightly focused movie that helped define the early-2000s style era. He followed with Stereotype (2002), and within a few years was embedded with the riders who would push park, street, and backcountry in every direction. When a new athlete-led ski brand was born, he was there on day one: the original AR5 rider group teamed up with photographer Chris O’Connell and videographer Eric Iberg to launch Armada, effectively giving athletes the media voice inside a manufacturer. A decade later he co-founded Inspired Media Concepts with Tanner Hall, producing films and web shows that blended skiing, music, and street culture while touring to meet local scenes. Add his role in the B&E Invitational at Les Arcs—a rider-designed park gathering that rewired how contests could look—and you have a career that moved freeskiing both on screen and on snow. By any cultural metric, Iberg sits in the small group of creators who changed how the sport is filmed, marketed, and celebrated.
Competitive arc and key venues
Iberg’s “results sheet” is filmography and event architecture. The early 2000s projects (Royalty, then Stereotype) were made around North American park hubs and spring venues, with long editing sessions that privileged rider identity and soundtrack curation over bloated cast lists. Mid-career he helped launch Inspired’s touring shows and web series, taking the sport directly to communities while releasing feature projects like The Education of Style (2012), the Tanner Hall documentary Like a Lion (2011), and the two-year B-Dog & E-Dollo showcase Be Inspired (2016). On the event side, his collaboration with Henrik Harlaut and Phil Casabon produced the B&E Invitational at Les Arcs, where the course looked more like a sculpted skatepark than a traditional slopestyle line. In Europe, creative blocks leaned on Innsbruck’s city-adjacent terrain—Nordkette and Axamer Lizum’s Golden Roofpark—while Sweden’s Kläppen (home of Kimbo Sessions) became a recurring canvas for style-driven sessions. In North America, spring filming and athlete development tied back to Oregon’s Timberline on Mt. Hood, where long seasons and repeatable jump shapes let ideas mature.
How they ski: what to watch for
Though best known behind the lens and on the production side, Iberg’s imprint on skiing style is unmistakable in what he chooses to film and how he frames it. He prizes clean approach lines, locked grabs, and legible axes on jumps; on metal, he favors full-feature usage—presses into swaps, redirects, and exits that square the shoulders. Watch any Inspired-era project and you’ll see these values repeated: tricks are designed to be understood on first watch and studied on replay. That editorial discipline shaped a generation of viewers and riders; it trained audiences to care about initiation, hold, and landing quality, not just spin volume. The result is that Iberg projects are often used as reference clips when coaches, judges, or filmers explain “what good looks like.”
Resilience, filming, and influence
Making ski films that last requires stubborn patience. Iberg’s career is a study in resourcefulness—building segments on limited budgets, keeping small teams motivated through weather swings, and protecting rider identity when marketing pressures push toward homogeny. The Inspired years broadened that playbook: not just movies, but tours, web shows, radio and live events, often threading music into the story so edits felt like culture, not just highlight reels. The B&E Invitational proved that rider-designed venues could be the headline, not an afterthought, a lesson later seen across style-driven gatherings. Long after the premiere lights fade, his work keeps getting cited because it left a toolkit behind: shoot with a point of view, let style lead difficulty, and build formats that showcase creativity rather than punish it.
Geography that built the toolkit
The map behind Iberg’s output connects the right places to the right moments. Minnesota winters and Midwestern rope-tow parks built an appreciation for repetition and community. The Wasatch and Sierra spring cycles added long-runway jump timing (Mammoth and Timberline). Europe expanded the palette: Innsbruck’s city-to-park quick-hits at Nordkette Skyline Park, the shaped-for-style lines of Kläppen, and the B&E era at Les Arcs. Each venue contributed something specific—speed control, feature variety, or creative course design—and together they explain why so many Iberg projects feel both rider-centric and visually coherent. The geography isn’t background; it’s a production tool.
Equipment and partners: practical takeaways
Two partnerships define the public story. First, the athlete-founded brand Armada, whose original riders—JP Auclair, Tanner Hall, JF Cusson, Julien Regnier and Boyd Easley—teamed up with photographer Chris O’Connell and Iberg on day one. That arrangement put a filmmaker inside a ski company at the founding moment, aligning product with the style and media that actually moved culture. Second, Inspired, the studio/label he co-founded with Tanner Hall in 2010, which released films and shows while touring to meet local scenes worldwide. For skiers and small crews, the takeaways are pragmatic: keep setups consistent so tricks look the same from training to shoot days; tune edges for the day’s task (detune contact points for rails, maintain underfoot bite for icy in-runs); and invest as much in sound and edit pacing as you do in the biggest shot—because the way a project feels often determines how long it lives.
Why fans and progressing skiers care
Iberg’s legacy is a playbook. He showed that a small, opinionated crew can make work that outlasts bigger budgets; that rider-designed events can set the agenda; and that films can be both stylish and fundamentally instructive. If you’re a fan, that means edits you want to rewatch years later. If you’re a skier (or a filmer) trying to level up, it’s a clear path: plan approach lines first, favor tricks that use the whole obstacle, and cut footage so viewers can read each phase—set, grab/press, spot, stomp—without guesswork. It’s no accident that coaches and judges still reference those choices; they’re durable. The projects aren’t just entertainment; they’re templates.
Quick reference (places)
Principal sponsors