Brice Weaver • July 11, 2026

From Borrego Springs to Arles: A Week at the World’s Largest Photography Festival

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By: Brice Weaver

www.briceweaverphotography


As I write this, I’m traveling home from Arles, France, after spending the past week participating in the Photo Folio Portfolio Reviews during Les Rencontres d’Arles, one of the world’s largest and most respected photography festivals.



For one week each summer, the historic city in southern France becomes a gathering place for photographers, curators, publishers, editors, gallery directors, and artists from around the world. Photography spills out of galleries and into churches, museums, former industrial buildings, courtyards, and public spaces. It feels less like a festival and more like a city-wide conversation.


I traveled to Arles to present Evidence, a long-term photographic project exploring memory, environmental change, and the traces people leave behind in the landscape. The work brings together photographs made at California’s Salton Sea, in Patagonia, and throughout Southern California.


Getting there was the culmination of months of preparation. Photographs were selected, removed, rearranged, printed, and reconsidered. Like many photographers, I spend most of my time working alone. Arles is the opposite of that experience. Suddenly, you’re surrounded by people from dozens of countries, all there because photography matters to them.


The portfolio reviews took place over five days. Each meeting lasted just twenty minutes, but those twenty minutes moved quickly. Some conversations focused on environmental themes. Others centered on publishing, exhibitions, sequencing, or the future of the project. Some people responded strongly to Evidence as a complete body of work, while others became interested in one particular chapter and wanted to spend most of our time discussing it.


What became clear very quickly was that there was no single way to read the project. Different people saw different things in the same photographs. At times the conversations confirmed ideas I already had. At other times they took the work in directions I hadn’t considered. By the end of the week, I had pages of notes and plenty to think about on the flight home.


One thing I appreciated was that the discussions rarely stayed focused on photography alone. Conversations often expanded into larger subjects: environmental change, memory, history, the passage of time, and the complicated relationship between people and the places they inhabit.


Between reviews, I spent as much time as possible exploring the festival.


Arles is forever associated with Vincent van Gogh, who moved there in 1888 and produced some of the most important work of his career. More than a century later, artists are still making the journey. Walking through the city, it wasn’t difficult to understand why. The light is extraordinary, and creativity seems woven into everyday life.


The exhibitions themselves were remarkable. One might be housed inside a centuries-old church, while another occupied a former warehouse or industrial building. In a single afternoon, it was possible to move from contemporary photography addressing climate change or migration to Roman artifacts that had survived for nearly two thousand years. At one museum, a cat slept quietly among the visitors and ancient stonework, completely unfazed by the steady stream of people passing through.


The city was filled with photographers carrying portfolios through narrow streets between review sessions and exhibitions. Conversations started in galleries and continued in cafés. Everywhere I went, people were exchanging ideas, discussing projects, debating books, and sharing experiences.


Coming from Borrego Springs, I couldn’t help noticing how often the subjects being discussed in France felt familiar. Landscape. Water. Environmental change. Human impact. Memory. The locations were different, but many of the questions were the same.


That felt especially relevant given the origins of Evidence. Much of the project grew from places close to home, particularly the Salton Sea and the changing landscapes of Southern California. Seeing those photographs spark conversations with people from different countries and backgrounds was one of the most rewarding parts of the experience.


As the week came to an end, photographers were still moving through the city with portfolios tucked under their arms, heading toward another exhibition, another review, or another conversation. A few hours later, I was on a train leaving Arles, carrying home a notebook full of ideas, new professional connections, and a renewed appreciation for the role photography can play in connecting people and places that might otherwise never meet.


For a photographer from a small desert community, it was a week I won’t soon forget. 




Learn More About Brice Weaver

By Brice Weaver May 28, 2026
By: Brice Weaver When photography emerged, painting did not disappear, but it undeniably changed. Portrait painters and masters of realism were no longer needed in the same way because photography could document reality faster and more accurately. Art evolved, but the expectations changed. A painter like Rembrandt or Monet spent years mastering light, form, and observation because there was no alternative. Photography changed the role of painting, and with it, what culture rewarded. Looking at photography today, I wonder if we are watching a similar shift happen again. This is not a film versus digital argument. I shoot both. Nor is it an argument against technology. Better cameras and editing tools have expanded what photographers can do. But we should also ask what those tools may be changing. Photography once demanded intentionality. You had to recognize light, anticipate moments, understand timing, and know when to press the shutter. As technology advanced, many photographers shifted from intentional decisions in the moment to fixing and shaping images later. Exposure could be recovered. Composition refined. Light reshaped. Moods built in post. Photographers like Ansel Adams heavily interpreted images in the darkroom, but the essence of the scene remained intact. The mountain was still there. The light existed. Dodging and burning shaped feeling, but the photograph remained tied to a real encounter with the world. Today, much of what is rewarded by social platforms and even professional organizations is no longer simply photography. Through editing, compositing, and AI-assisted tools, photographers are increasingly building scenes instead of witnessing them. At what point does a photograph stop being a photograph? And maybe the harder question: at what point does a photographer stop being a photographer and become something closer to a digital artist or graphic designer? If most of the light is created after the fact, skies replaced, atmosphere added, and moods manufactured, are we still talking about photography in the traditional sense? My bigger concern is that photographers may be slowly editing themselves out of relevance. If the profession increasingly rewards manufactured outcomes and visual perfection over patience, then AI becomes the logical next step. Why hire a photographer if the goal is simply a compelling visual result? AI will generate it faster, cheaper, and without travel, waiting, weather, or years spent learning how to see. Maybe the future value of photography will not come from those who can create the most visually perfect image, but from those who still choose to witness the world rather than manufacture it. Because eventually we may discover that what gave photographs meaning was never perfection, but presence and evidence that a particular moment, place, or truth once existed, and that someone cared enough to see it. briceweaverphotography.com
May 15, 2026
There are photographers who chase spectacle, and there are photographers who quietly ask people to slow down and look more carefully. The work of Brice Weaver belongs firmly in the latter. Through film photography, remote landscapes, abandoned spaces, layered histories, and reflective atmosphere, Weaver explores ideas surrounding memory, impermanence, and the traces humanity leaves behind. His images often feel suspended somewhere between documentary observation and emotional archaeology, asking viewers not simply to look at a place, but to consider who stood there before, what remains after time passes, and how photography itself becomes evidence that something briefly existed. From trekking to Everest Base Camp carrying the cremated remains of a fallen Marine Corps brother, to diving with great white sharks in fulfillment of a childhood dream inspired by Jacques Cousteau, Weaver’s photographic journey is deeply tied to exploration, personal reflection, and the emotional relationship between people and place. We spoke with Weaver about photography, memory, travel, film, and the evolving body of work he calls Evidence. Photography & Creative Beginnings “My interest in photography really began long before I ever owned a serious camera,” Weaver says. “Growing up around Washington D.C., some of my earliest school field trips were to places like the Smithsonian and the National Gallery of Art.” Those early experiences left a lasting impression. “I still vividly remember standing in front of the massive Megalodon jaws at the Smithsonian as a kid, completely in awe, and thinking, ‘That’s what I want to do someday.’ At the time, I was obsessed with the expeditions of Jacques Cousteau and dreamed about exploring the ocean and diving with sharks myself one day.” He also recalls standing in front of paintings such as Daniel in the Lions’ Den at the National Gallery and being struck by the emotional atmosphere they carried. “At home, I would spend hours in my grandparents’ basement reading old National Geographic magazines and musty volumes of Encyclopaedia Britannica, completely fascinated by exploration, history, wildlife, and distant places.” Photography eventually entered his life during a period of uncertainty. “At the time, I was working on an ambulance and had taken time off to hike the Pacific Crest Trail. Around mile 250, an old hip injury from the Marines resurfaced badly enough that I eventually needed surgery. Suddenly I went from constantly moving and working in high-intensity environments to being laid up in bed wondering what came next.” During recovery, he reflected on the photographs he had casually taken during his travels. “People had responded well to photos I was taking on my phone and GoPro, and eventually I thought, why not actually buy a real camera and take it seriously?” What began as a creative outlet quickly became something deeper. “I realized the camera was changing the way I observed the world. I became less interested in simply documenting places and more interested in atmosphere, memory, light, and the emotional weight certain environments carry.” Exploration, Travel & Perspective For Weaver, travel has always represented more than movement. “A lot of my creative influences came less from photography specifically and more from exploration, atmosphere, and visual storytelling,” he explains. “There was always this sense of discovery, history, and wonder tied to imagery for me.” That fascination eventually took him across environments ranging from the Amazon and Peru to Nepal and Patagonia. One journey in particular remains deeply personal. “Trekking to Everest Base Camp was deeply meaningful for me,” he says. “One of my closest friends from the Marine Corps, someone I served with in Iraq and who was like a brother to me, and I used to talk about making that journey someday.” After his friend was murdered unexpectedly, Weaver decided to carry some of his cremated remains with him to Everest Base Camp. “So the trek became much more than just travel or adventure. There were moments on that mountain where I found myself thinking about friendship, mortality, memory, and how small we really are within landscapes that have existed for thousands of years.” Those experiences altered not only his worldview, but the way he approaches photography itself. “The more I’ve explored the world, the more I’ve realized how small we are within the larger scope of history, nature, and time. I think that perspective has shaped not only the way I photograph, but the way I move through life in general.” Travel, he says, has also taught him adaptability. “Travel places you into unfamiliar environments constantly, different cultures, languages, conditions, and situations where you have to learn to navigate uncertainty and trust yourself. There have been moments ranging from communication barriers in remote places to genuinely dangerous situations, including one experience in Nepal that almost resulted in me being kidnapped, which is probably a story for another day.” A Full Circle Beneath the Surface One of the most unforgettable moments of Weaver’s career came underwater at Guadalupe Island. “Growing up, I had spent countless hours fascinated by sharks, ocean exploration, and the expeditions of Jacques Cousteau ever since I was a kid standing in awe beneath the Megalodon jaws at the Smithsonian,” he says. Years later, that childhood fascination came full circle while photographing great white sharks. “One experience I’ll never forget was diving with great white sharks and photographing the image that later became known as Great Bite . What stayed with me most was the sense of respect and presence you feel underwater with an animal like that. There’s an intensity to it, but also an incredible calm. Everything becomes very quiet and focused.” The photograph would later receive international recognition and become one of his most widely known images. “Looking back, I think that photograph became meaningful to me not just because of the recognition it later received, but because it represented the realization of something that had lived in my imagination since childhood.” Atmosphere, Memory & Evidence Much of Weaver’s work focuses on subtle details, quiet environments, and traces of human presence. “What usually stops me first is light, specifically the way it interacts with a subject or environment and creates atmosphere,” he explains. “But beyond that, I’m often drawn to places because of the sense of history and human presence they carry.” He recalls sitting on a hillside overlooking the Acropolis in Greece and imagining the continuity of human experience across centuries. “I found myself thinking that I could quite literally be standing in the same place where someone like Socrates once stood thousands of years ago. Moments like that change the way you experience a landscape. It stops feeling like scenery and starts feeling connected to memory, history, and human continuity.” That fascination with traces of existence has become central to his evolving body of work. “I think I’m often responding to evidence of people more than the places themselves. When I encounter an abandoned building, a quiet landscape, or subtle traces left behind, I find myself wondering who those people were, what their lives were like, and what that place felt like in its prime.” For Weaver, photography exists in a complicated relationship with time. “Memory plays a significant role in my work because I think photography exists in this strange space between preservation and impermanence. On one hand, a photograph acts as evidence that something existed, a place, a moment, a specific atmosphere in time. But at the same time, even the things we photograph remain vulnerable to change, decay, and disappearance.” He points to his award-winning photograph Deserted Refuel as an example. “I recently went back to that location after the image had already received recognition. Part of the building had burned down, and even the graffiti on the gas station canopy had completely changed from what appears in the photograph. It was a reminder that the image had already become a document of something that no longer fully exists in the same way.” That realization helped shape the conceptual direction of his broader body of work, Evidence . “If I had to summarize my work philosophically, I think it revolves around evidence of existence and the fleeting nature of time. We are only here for an incredibly brief moment within a much larger continuum of history and existence, and photographs become small records of those moments before they disappear or change.” Film, Presence & Intentionality Although Weaver works across both film and digital formats, analog photography remains deeply important to his process. “What keeps me connected to analog film photography is the level of presence and intentionality it requires,” he says. “With film, every frame matters. When I press the shutter, I’ve consciously decided that particular moment is worth preserving.” For him, film photography changes not only the image, but the photographer. “With digital, there’s often an element of instant gratification, you can immediately review images, adjust, and continue shooting. Film removes that safety net entirely.” The uncertainty, he says, is part of the emotional connection. “With film, there’s always a degree of trust involved. So many factors exist outside your control, from how the film was stored, to lab processing, to whether airport security refuses to hand check it and sends it through scanners. You don’t fully know what you captured until much later.” Oddly enough, that unpredictability has become part of the appeal. “Getting scans back from a roll of film almost feels like opening a Christmas present because there’s still an element of discovery involved. Sometimes imperfections or unexpected moments become part of what gives the image character and emotional weight.” Recognition & Creative Growth Recognition arrived relatively quickly after Weaver first picked up a camera. “Not long after buying my first DSLR, I was already being published in places like Backpacker Magazine, and then receiving recognition such as the International Photography Awards Honorable Mention for Great Bite in 2019.” One moment still stands out vividly. “I remember attending the IPA gala in New York City wearing a black tie tuxedo and suddenly finding myself standing next to Annie Leibovitz. It was one of those moments where I had to pause and think about how unexpected the entire journey had been.” Despite the accolades, Weaver says recognition has not fundamentally changed his creative direction. “I still create the work I feel personally drawn to and photograph environments the way I naturally see and experience them. I think if you start chasing recognition too heavily, it can pull you away from authenticity and toward trying to predict what other people want to see.” The greater challenge, he says, has been visibility. “One of the biggest challenges in growing as a photographer has been simply being seen in an environment where attention moves incredibly fast. Social media algorithms tend to reward constant output, speed, and short attention spans, while a lot of the work I’m interested in creating is slower, more reflective, and asks people to spend time with an image.” Reflection & What Comes Next When asked what he hopes viewers experience through his work, Weaver’s answer is simple. “Curiosity and reflection.” “I’m more interested in creating images that invite people to slow down, look more carefully, and spend time thinking about what they’re seeing.” As for inspiration, he still returns to the same sources that shaped him early on. “I think staying creatively inspired starts with staying true to yourself and remaining curious about the world around you. For me, inspiration often comes less from social media and more from physically experiencing places, museums, galleries, history, travel, and simply paying attention.” And his advice to younger photographers? “Don’t become overly consumed with gear or the idea that equipment alone creates meaningful work. Far more important is developing your eye, learning how to observe, recognize atmosphere and emotion, and tell a story through an image.” Looking ahead, Weaver is preparing for the next chapter of his creative journey. “Right now, one of the things I’m most looking forward to is attending Les Rencontres d’Arles in France. It’s an opportunity to immerse myself in a space centered around photography, conversation, and creative exchange at an international level.” He also plans to continue expanding Evidence , the interconnected body of work exploring memory, atmosphere, and human presence through film photography. “I’m increasingly interested in creating work that feels interconnected conceptually rather than just individual images,” he says. And perhaps no place reflects those ideas more naturally than the desert community he now calls home. “What I love about Borrego Springs is the silence, the space, the light, and the sense of time that exists there. It’s an environment that constantly reminds you how temporary we are compared to the landscapes around us. I think that perspective inevitably finds its way into my work.” Learn more about Brice Weaver here: briceweaverphotography.com
March 13, 2026
Borrego Springs local Brice Weaver is featured in SDVoyager, sharing how curiosity, adventure, and fine art photography shaped his path. Borrego Springs local Brice Weaver is featured in a recent SDVoyager story that takes a closer look at his path into photography and the experiences that shaped his work. Weaver’s journey into photography did not begin in a traditional way. He picked up his first DSLR in 2016, and what started as curiosity quickly became a serious creative pursuit. Since then, his work has taken him to places like Everest Base Camp, Guadalupe Island for great white shark photography, and remote landscapes including Anza-Borrego Desert . Today, Weaver is known for fine art and portrait photography that focuses on mood, place, and quiet storytelling. His work has also earned international recognition, including top honors in major photography competitions. For Borrego Springs, it is always meaningful to see a local creative featured for work that connects art, landscape, and personal vision. Read Brice Weaver’s Story Read the full SDVoyager feature here: sdvoyager.com/interview/check-out-brice-weavers-story

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