Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography: Blog en-us (C) Rebecca Metschke Photography 2018 All Rights Reserved (Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) Wed, 04 Jul 2018 23:37:00 GMT Wed, 04 Jul 2018 23:37:00 GMT Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography: Blog 120 78 Rhapsody in Blue I just returned from a shoot in southeast Alaska. The weather in the panhandle can be quite wet, especially the further southeast one travels. What do I mean by wet? Juneau receives 150 inches of precipitation annually. As a result, it is extremely lush and emerald green during the summer months.

The rain was expected, but not the cold. We hit a decidedly, stubbornly cool stretch. Coupled with the near constant moisture, it didn't feel anything like the summer solstice! On my last visit to The Last Frontier (also in the summer) it was quite warm, so I got the opposite scenario this time around. 

The conditions were extremely changeable the day we spent on Tracy Arm. Departing early in the morning from Juneau under sunny skies and relatively mild temperatures, clouds quickly began to fill the sky - but they were interesting and created nice, flat light. By the time we'd made our way the roughly 45 miles to the entrance to the fjord, once again the sun was showing its face intermittently. This actually was somewhat concerning since I knew sunlight would create significant contrast issues when we reached the Sawyer Glacier. 

Not to worry!

By the time we reached the "end of the line," clouds were mostly winning the battle.

Tracy Arm is a narrow, deep fjord roughly 30 miles long. Much of it is covered in ice. During the summer months, icebergs are plentiful and can be quite sizable: some are as large as multi-story buildings (as gigantic as some of these were, I kept reminding myself that there is much more underwater than what is visible above).

The glacier was spectacular, and we were able to spend a good deal of time there with the engines cut, drifting, watching, and waiting to see whether it would calve. Indeed, it did. In spades. We witnessed two massive breaks, along with a few smaller ones. 

As we slowly began to make our way out of the fjord, we spent time at a number of enormous icebergs. By then it also had started to rain - but the sun was still peeking through every now and then. Our skilled captain maneuvered the vessel superbly, providing magnificent viewing - and shooting - opportunities. As is the case when photographing from a small plane, one must move very quickly to identify compositions and keep up with wildly fluctuating light to ensure proper exposure. Though the peek-a-boo sunlight made the lighting even more challenging, it also enhanced the stormy skies. The conditions while we were exploring these icebergs could not have been better. 

We ended up completely soaked and freezing, but it was worth it.

Rhapsody in BlueRhapsody in BlueIceberg in Tracy Arm Fjord near Juneau, Alaska

(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) Alaska iceberg Rebecca Metschke Photography Tracy Arm Fjord Wed, 04 Jul 2018 23:22:51 GMT
Spring in the Tetons It arrives late and doesn't last long - but spring is a magical time of year at Grand Teton National Park.

Even in this high-desert climate (the valley floor averages 6,800 feet), everything is lush and green this time of year. Aspens and cottonwoods, newly leafed out, create a canopy of lime - while the wild grasses, well watered from both runoff and frequent May rains, paint great swaths of the ground in emerald. 

Soon enough, as we inch closer to summer, the rain will stop falling as frequently and that lovely carpet below will transition to gold. For now, though, the various hues of green are something to behold. 

During much of this May, the weather pattern has been quite active. Frequent afternoon storms, scattered over both the Snake River Plain in Idaho and the highlands of western Wyoming, have created very nice skies on a regular basis. I was in the Park the other day hoping the storms which had been forecast would materialize. While rain did move through, it was widely scattered. Based on wind direction and the behavior of clouds over the mountains, I chased the skies from one end of the park to the other, to no avail. 

Since that appeared to be an exercise in futility, I decided to stay put on the north side near the Oxbow Bend of the Snake River and hope for the best. That was my desired location anyway, and storm clouds were clearly trying to form there; it was just a matter of whether they'd be successful. After a few hours, it looked like I might get a chance for some weather.

Once the threatening clouds finally blotted out the sun, things moved quickly. (This is often the irony of landscape photography: wait, wait, wait - sometimes for many hours - but if and when the conditions do shape up, suddenly it's hurry, hurry, hurry.) The composition I envisioned presented itself, and I made a few variations of that shot. Then I noticed sunlight trying to poke through the clouds in a completely different spot. I switched lenses, repositioned, and found an alternate composition just in time to catch the rays peeking through and lighting the line of aspens - in all their springtime glory - below. The shafts of light were only briefly visible. Though I continued to shoot the quickly-changing storm until it moved on, it was that one fleeting scene that ended up being my favorite from the afternoon.

Spotlight on SpringSpotlight on SpringAfternoon storms forming over the Teton Range create quickly changeable - and dramatic - skies. A few rays of light peek through, highlighting the lush new springtime growth on the aspens below. (Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming)


(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) grand teton national park mountains rebecca metschke photography spring storm Thu, 31 May 2018 21:39:02 GMT
Sea Stacks I've been wanting to photograph the sea stacks along the Pacific Coast for a while. Three shoots had to be scuttled for one reason or another, but I finally made it to Bandon, Oregon last week.

Because flying still requires nearly six hours of driving in order to complete the trip, and since driving the whole way was going to afford me additional flexibility in terms of trying to work around the forecast, I opted to travel exclusively via ground. (This in spite of the fact that lengthy, solo road trips don't exactly sing to me.) 

As I made my way across Oregon, the temperatures rose to nearly 80 degrees and there wasn't a cloud in sight. While Robin's-egg-blue, completely clear skies are pleasant, they're not a landscape photographer's friend. Finally, within 60 miles of the coast, clouds were visible over the ocean. Since I hoped to get to work as the sun set that evening, I was happy to see something going on in the sky.

Nearing Bandon, my initial enthusiasm about those clouds waned. The skies quickly transitioned to complete overcast: flat and white with absolutely no definition as far as the eye could see. Little did I know, those uninteresting skies were going to make themselves at home for quite some time. So much for the favorable forecast! 

When you've driven 14-hours for a shoot, you're stuck. There is no choice but to try to figure out what kind of photograph you CAN make given the conditions - or, in this case, since the sky necessarily had to be included in the composition, to wait it out. I sat at the shore for hours, watching and hoping for some improvement. Fog would have been great, but none materialized. Angry skies, too, would have been welcome but were also nowhere to be found.

It was a challenging couple of days. The flat light would have been perfect to photograph waterfalls or to do close-up work, but there were no opportunities for either in the general area. 

Coming down to the wire, with time running out on my stay, Mother Nature came through. It's hard to describe the sense of euphoria when, after nearly walking away from a location shoot empty-handed, the conditions turn in your favor.  

Wizard's Hat AglowWizard's Hat AglowThe Wizard's Hat appears to glow when abundant mist hanging over the water is lit by the setting sun. (Bandon, Oregon)


(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) bandon ocean oregon pacific rebecca metschke photography sea stacks Tue, 01 May 2018 15:55:59 GMT
The Land of Lincoln Once upon a time, before the Monday Holiday Bill, there was no such thing as “Presidents' Day.”

In Illinois (The Land of Lincoln), where I was born and raised, every kid knew when Abraham Lincoln’s birthday was: February 12th. It was a state holiday….and it was acknowledged on the actual date. Imagine that!

For photographers who enjoy shooting architecture, Washington, D.C. is hard to beat. My favorite place to work is, without a doubt, the Lincoln Memorial (architect: Henry Bacon). The ionic columns, the symbolism, and of course - the statue of the President - it's stunning.

Lincoln MemorialLincoln MemorialThe statue of Lincoln is framed by some of the imposing Ionic columns on the memorial's interior.  


(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) lincoln lincoln memorial rebecca metschke photography statue washington d.c. Tue, 13 Feb 2018 03:36:30 GMT
Focus on the Fence Since we've had much less snowfall this winter-to-date than last year, my shooting at Grand Teton National Park is on hold for the time being. Instead, I've continued to concentrate on the derelict buck and rail fence just a few miles from my home. 

Interesting skies have been in short supply since the first of the year: there have been a number of long stretches of complete overcast, and unfortunately no inversion situations to speak of (which can create wonderful rime ice). A handful of late afternoons looked promising; I'd set up and be waiting for the sun to drop lower in the sky, only to watch my compositions evaporate as the clouds disappeared rapidly. Mornings thus far have been either completely overcast or completely clear.

That said, a couple days have served up good conditions. The areas of fence line which I've been able to feature has expanded, thanks to the position of the clouds in the sky. 

There's something about buck and rail fences which I've always found appealing. The fact that this one with so much character is located nearby is a wonderful thing. 

The Neglected Fence XIVThe Neglected Fence XIVBonneville County, Idaho I made this photo about thirty minutes prior to sunset: the clouds directly overhead were beautifully lit and who knew if they'd hold together? Might as well try to capture this and then hope for color later.

I got down very low and used the fence post to block the sun. The combination of low perspective and wide angle lens also enabled me to include as much of the sky as possible. I liked the way the lighting above created yet another line, so you end up with the fence line and cloud line nearly converging. 

While the clouds remained in the sky past sunset on this evening, they did not pick up much color: low overcast along the horizon prevented the last light from filling the sky with fiery hues.

So for a few minutes, the sky was exceptionally beautiful, and there was a photo to be made. It was simply thirty minutes ahead of "schedule," and the composition was based on lines and shapes more so than color. 

You never know exactly what's going to happen....or when!

(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) buck and rail fence fence idaho rebecca metschke photography sunset Wed, 24 Jan 2018 20:38:29 GMT
2017 in Review 2017 was another memorable year for me photographically - in spite of the fact that I had to give up three planned shoots due to a move which wreaked havoc with my schedule. I'm looking at the 2018 calendar now and hoping to plug at least one of those locations back into the rotation.

Reviewing the images which were made over the last 12 months is an opportunity for me not only to revisit the places I've worked, but it's also a wonderful reminder of people I've met and/or traveled with along the way.

First up is Bryce Canyon National Park, where I spent a week in early February and was fortunate to arrive on the heels of a substantial snowfall. While this resulted in closures of some areas I'd hoped to photograph, since it was snow I was after, this was a fortuitous turn of events.

Below you'll see one of my favorite images from that trip. I was fortunate to have a lovely sky at daybreak; after making that photo, I continued to work in the same general area for as long as possible before the sun got too high in the sky. This was the last shot of the morning. I liked the way the rocks framed the tree; it's a different way of capturing the hoodoos, and the patch of snow adds emphasis to the tree and also provides context regarding the time of year. I had some reservations about making this picture (i.e. harsher light than I would have preferred) but liked the composition so much I forged ahead, utilizing HDR in order to properly expose both the rocks and snow.

FramedFramedHoodoos create the frame; the patch of snow in which the fir tree stands further enhances the vignette. (Bryce Amphitheater at Sunset Point - Bryce Canyon National Park, Utah)

I ventured back to the Colorado Plateau in March, where I visited both Petrified Forest National Park and the slot canyons near Page, Arizona. Lower Antelope Canyon was a spectacular - but challenging - place in which to work. One must deal with time constraints, significant contrast/exposure issues, and the necessity of shooting around a lot of visitors! Work fast, work smart.

Lower Antelope CanyonLower Antelope CanyonNear Page, Arizona Just a few weeks later, I chartered a plane and pilot in order to photograph the Teton peaks from the air as the sun set. While it was a beautiful early April day with temperatures in the 50s at the Jackson airport, the landscape was still in winter mode. This was perfect, since snow covered mountains were what I was after. However, we encountered quite a bit more cloud cover than had been forecast, particularly at the western horizon - which quashed my hopes of capturing alpenglow on the mountains as the sun went down. Still, the clouds made possible some interesting compositions. 

Last LightLast LightThe last rays of sunlight warm the western peaks of Grand Teton and Mount Owen at the end of the day. (Teton Range, Wyoming) Spring comes late to the Tetons, and is short-lived. However, I find it to be the loveliest time of year - both in the Park and on the western side in Idaho's Teton Valley.

Wildflowers dot Grand Teton National Park with color.

The Season of SingingThe Season of SingingArrowleaf Balsamroot (Balsamorhiza sagittata) decorate Grand Teton National Park in the late spring. Meanwhile, over on the Idaho side, the landscape is lush and green, which contrasts beautifully with the peaks still covered with snow.

Mountain ShowersMountain ShowersThe Teton peaks are draped in white as showers hover over the mountains on a spring afternoon. (Teton Valley near Tetonia, Idaho) I was back in my home state (Illinois) in June, and made sure to set aside time to work at the Chicago Botanic Garden: one of my favorite spots.

Water LilyWater LilyChicago Botanic Garden - Glencoe, Illinois Then it was back to the Tetons at the height of summer. One of the great things about that time of year is monsoonal moisture: when it works its way into the region, it can create spectacular skies over the mountains in the afternoon. On the day this photo was made, though the forecast called for a high probability of afternoon storms, initially it didn't appear Mother Nature was going to cooperate. I hung around the barn for a few hours.....waiting. Finally, some dark clouds began to build in the distance - but they weren't positioned properly to make a photo at this spot. I moved to a location a mile or so away where I was able to make an image incorporating those stormy skies over the Cathedral peaks. After spending 30-45 minutes there, I looked in the direction of the barn and saw that the clouds had shifted: it might now be possible to make an image there after all! Racing back, I was somewhat astonished to find not a single tourist in sight. Not only did I now have the incredible skies I'd hoped for, but I had one of the more popular places in the park to myself. For just a few minutes, some light peeked through an opening overhead and brightened a few of the snow-covered peaks. 

Monsoon SeasonMonsoon SeasonSummer in the mountains: a southwesterly flow creates sometimes spectacular afternoon thunderstorms. (Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming) I'm partial to Mount Moran, and am always looking for different ways to shoot it. On this late-July morning, it wasn't an unusual location (quite the opposite, since Oxbow Bend is very popular with photographers) but rather the conditions which gave me something interesting. Though most of the sky was clear, there was some nice cloud development over the Tetons as the day broke. Fortunately, they held together. I waited until the sun cleared the opposite horizon far enough to bathe the mountains in warm light - but before the trees came out of the shadows - to make the picture.

SunkissedSunkissedMount Moran and the surrounding peaks glow with the first light of the day. (Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming) Autumn in the Tetons was unusual this year. The snow came early, while the color, such as it was, arrived late. High winds ended up knocking what little color we did have off the trees in quick order.

Not to worry! I was scheduled to be back in my beloved New England to photograph the "show." While the color there was also off (very late), the usually reliable areas in the White Mountains of New Hampshire were beautiful, as always.

In the Stillness of the MorningIn the Stillness of the MorningThough "leaf peepers" crowd the area in early October, the landscape is quiet, peaceful and mostly deserted in the hour before sunrise. (White Mountains, New Hampshire) Moving on to Acadia National Park, I fought challenging conditions the entire time (remnants of a hurricane followed by days of wind) but was able to create some images in spite of it. I made this one during a downpour with the help of my trusty umbrella, which shielded the fern and maple leaf from the heavy rain and therefore kept them from moving.

RaindropsRaindropsAs light rain becomes steadier and heavier, droplets cling to this maple leaf which has fallen to rest on a colorful fern. (Sieur de Monts - Acadia National Park, Maine) Back in Idaho, I was pleased to discover a location very near my new home which is loaded with potential. Since arriving in the Gem State, I've been searching for a place within a half hour drive (or less) at which I can work on a regular basis (i.e. as often as the conditions look as though they might be conducive to making a photo). I had such a location in New Hampshire - a large tidal pool on the Atlantic coast at Rye. I'd had no such luck near my first house in Idaho.....but struck paydirt shortly after moving a few months ago. I found a derelict, fire-scarred buck and rail fence in BLM acreage less than three miles away. (The fire-scarred part is a little disconcerting; three miles is a little too close for comfort when it comes to wildfire.) 

I've been up there dozens of times already. At this time of year, it has possibilities both at sunrise and sunset - and of course when skies are stormy it could be viable any time of the day. I'm not sure whether it will work as well during the summer months when the sun moves much further to the north; we'll see. The sky can be the main focal point, or I can go in tight and focus on the character of the poles. Lots of creative options. I'm certain you'll see more from the "neglected fence!"

The Neglected Fence XThe Neglected Fence XBonneville County, Idaho Earlier this month, I traveled to Québec City to add to my Christmas Project portfolio. This was a favorite destination when I lived in New Hampshire; though it's now not nearly as easy to get there, it was worth the effort. Dressed for the holiday, the old city is more charming than ever.

Old World ChristmasOld World ChristmasDay breaks on Notre-Dame-des-Victoires, the oldest stone church in North America. Construction began in 1687 and was completed in 1723. (Old Town Québec City, Canada) I'm anxious to get out in the field in 2018! Thanks for visiting the website; I appreciate your interest.

Wishing you and yours a happy, healthy and prosperous new year.

Warm regards,

(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) landscapes rebecca metschke photography year in review Fri, 22 Dec 2017 22:10:57 GMT
Joyeux Noël The Christmas Project: Chapter 8

Begun in 2010, each holiday season I endeavor to find more vignettes to photograph and add to my portfolio of Christmas scenes. The first of this month I made my way to one of my favorite places, Québec City, to capture images of this lovely destination decorated for the season. 

When I lived in New Hampshire, my husband and I often frequented Québec. After all, it's reachable by car in just a few hours. Now that I'm living in the "wild west," the journey is quite a bit more involved. 19-hours later, via Toronto and Montréal, I finally made it! 

It was worth the effort. Never having visited in the winter, I was anxious to see the city dressed for Christmas. Founded in 1608, Old Town Québec maintains a feeling of yesteryear, with narrow, cobblestone streets and many old stone buildings. Beautiful any time, it is the perfect setting for Christmas scenes once decorated. The only disappointment was the fact that there was very little snow on the ground. That said, one morning dawned with a fresh dusting which was a welcome surprise.

I have another "Christmas Project" shoot planned, this one closer to home, in another week. Stay tuned!

You can view all of the Québec City images in the Christmas Project gallery.

Lower TownLower TownRue de Cul de Sac - in the oldest shopping district in North America - is decorated for Christmas. The imposing Château Frontenac is visible above. (Québec City, Canada)


(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) canada christmas québec city rebecca metschke photography Fri, 08 Dec 2017 12:27:09 GMT
The Neglected Fence Since arriving in Idaho, I have been searching for a location near my home (30 minutes or less) at which I could work on a regular basis. Close proximity means there's a good chance what I see out the window will be somewhat similar to what it's going to look like where I'll be shooting. I can "drop everything" if there's something interesting developing, scoot over there, and see if I can make a picture.  

In New Hampshire, I had my wonderful tidal pool, where I spent dozens of hours over many years. Here, in spite of my best ongoing efforts to find something, nothing had yet materialized.

Until now.

Having moved locally (about 30 miles) just a few weeks ago, I embarked once again on the "quest." Our new house is in the foothills near a huge expanse of BLM acreage; I decided to drive up into the federal land to see what I might find. I didn't have to go far to discover a buck and rail fence which has fallen into disrepair.

I'm a huge fan of buck and rail fences. Not only do they epitomize the Old West, but there's something about the look of them which I find interesting. This fence, less than three miles from my house, was even more captivating due to its derelict condition. 

It's lengthy and bends to follow a curve in the road. Posts are falling down all along the length of it. As a result, I have some flexibility in terms of which direction I end up shooting (though this is not a sunrise location) and a variety of options in terms of compositions. 

It'll work!

I've named this newest project "The Neglected Fence." I'll be able to follow it through the course of the seasons, and certainly whenever the skies above are interesting - whether it's due to a colorful sunset, or a storm rolling through.

I embarked on this in earnest last week, and have been fortunate enough to have had a string of pretty skies at the end of the day in which to work. Looking ahead to when the snow flies, I'll be interested to see where this takes me.

The Neglected Fence IIIThe Neglected Fence IIIBonneville County, Idaho




(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) buck and rail fence fence idaho rebecca metschke photography sunset Mon, 30 Oct 2017 23:49:42 GMT
One of the Greatest Shows on Earth For my money, there's no better place to enjoy the spectacle of autumn than New England. It was my home for more than 20 years, so you'll expect some regional bias. :) That said, I've traveled to a variety of locations in autumn, and while each have been pretty, none compares.

I recently spent a little over a week back East working along the New Hampshire seacoast, in the White Mountains, in Vermont's Northeast Kingdom, and at Acadia National Park. 

Just as the colors were late arriving at Grand Teton National Park, so were they off-schedule in the Northeast. I was dismayed to find most trees still green in and around Portsmouth. Once I arrived in the mountains, to my relief, there was color. It was spotty and not as advanced as it normally would have been based on the calendar, but it was still beautiful.

The bigger culprit were the conditions. The wind blew every day but one: even very early in the morning. This wreaked havoc with most of the water shots I had planned, and made close-up work challenging.

Tossed into the mix were the remnants of Hurricane Nate, moving quickly but dumping copious amounts of rain.

Wet weather is not a bad thing when it comes to photographing foliage. Drizzle, in particular, makes the colors pop even more dramatically. There are down sides to precipitation: sometimes the ceiling is so low it can obscure the very scenery you're trying to view and/or shoot. And when the drizzle or showers turn to heavy rain, it becomes nearly impossible to work. Even with a rain jacket on the camera, an umbrella is still required to keep the rain off the lens. This can be difficult logistically if you're working alone with no assistant. (Not enough hands!) Also, especially when working close-up, heavy rain will cause the subject to move.

On the day Nate blew through, I took advantage of the rain and kept working until there was just too much of it.

While I always begin a location shoot with a shot list, by necessity, it often ends up significantly altered. One never knows what Mother Nature will have in store! In this instance, I had to make significant adjustments due to the persistent wind, and to get the most out of the rain and fog.

The single morning which was calm, I was able to make a photograph at a spot at which I actually HAD planned on working. There was just enough definition in the sky to make this composition work. Shortly thereafter, the sky became flat and white, and the winds picked up - erasing this scene:

In the Stillness of the MorningIn the Stillness of the MorningThough "leaf peepers" crowd the area in early October, the landscape is quiet, peaceful and mostly deserted in the hour before sunrise. (White Mountains, New Hampshire)


(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) autumn foliage mountains new hampshire rebecca metschke photography Fri, 20 Oct 2017 15:53:18 GMT
The Snow Came Early - While the Color is Arriving Late Autumn color in both 2015 and 2016 came early to the Tetons. I was photographing peak color around the 20th of September two years ago. It was a little bit later last year - but not much. (Ironically, though foliage season came and went early, the autumn of 2016 was unusually mild. The ski resorts weren't happy about the fact that they had to delay opening.....though they ended up with record snowfall over the course of the winter.)

This year, though the early part of September was quite warm, snowfall came early to Grand Teton National Park. An unsettled weather pattern mid-month deposited quite a bit of snow at elevation, thus setting the table for interesting foliage photo opportunities; there is typically very little snow on the mountains in September. However, the trees apparently didn't get the memo that it's time to start the show! 

Here we are at the end of the month, and much of the park is still quite green. 

Though I pushed my long-planned foliage shoot back by a week at the last minute, it was no remedy. The trees remained stubbornly green.

This was one of those situations when something I read years ago in a landscape photography magazine was most certainly applicable: What kind of photograph CAN you make given particular conditions? 

This is one of the pitfalls of photographing nature. We are at the mercy of Mother Nature! You plan as thoroughly and carefully as possible - knowing you may end up being forced to toss your shot list out the window. 

In this case, there was that snow on the mountains: a big plus. There was also quite a bit of cloud cover the first two days I was there: not flat and white but interesting unsettled cumulus formations with lots of definition. Clouds may or may not pan out, but they're nearly always better than completely cloudless skies. Finally, it got very cold overnight which can create fog in the morning. 

So even though the color was lacking, the conditions were conducive to making some good images.

Shortly after I arrived in the park, I headed for the location along the banks of the Snake River at which I intended to photograph the following morning at daybreak. I wanted to see what the foliage situation looked like, and also see if the beavers had been able to rebuild any of their dams which were destroyed with the massive spring runoff. 

Making my way to the water's edge, I encountered a family of moose on the opposite shoreline. While I hadn't planned on making any photos at that spot that late afternoon, I quickly pulled out the camera and captured the mother and youngster. Fortunately, some of the grasses had turned color, so there were some yellows to provide contrast with the snow-covered Grand Teton in the background. 

I'd barely been there 30 minutes and already I had an image.

Landscape photography is as much about improvisation and quick thinking as it is about careful planning.

Autumn PastoralAutumn PastoralLate in the day, a family of moose feeds near the Snake River. The father is nearby, outside of the frame. (Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming)

(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) autumn foliage grand teton national park moose rebecca metschke photography Sat, 30 Sep 2017 23:10:22 GMT
On Things Celestial With the "Great American Eclipse" just two days away, I'm reminded - once again - of how capricious Mother Nature can be. (Actually, landscape photographers don't need to be reminded of this; it's a simple fact we deal with on a regular basis.)

I live in the path of totality. In fact, my town is nearly smack dab in the middle of the 70-mile wide swath which will experience complete darkness for 2 1/2 minutes on Monday at roughly 11:30am Mountain Time. Tens of thousands of people from across the United States - and around the world - are headed to eastern Idaho for the event, in no small part because the skies here are generally clear during the month of August. It being high desert, there's not a lot of cloud production this time of year unless you're in the shadow of the Teton Range.

Ironically, though Monday's forecast calls for the sunny day everyone expected, meteorologists are also watching some cloud cover that is expected to move through the area at mid-day. When the height of the "show" lasts for less than three minutes, a passing bank of clouds can be a very bad thing. 

Fingers crossed.

This situation got me thinking about my challenging relationship with the moon.

One September evening a few years back (when I still lived in New Hampshire), I decided on a whim to run over to the shore and photograph the full moon rising over the Atlantic ocean. I went to one of my favorite shoreline locations, a large tidal pool, and positioned myself so the moon was aligned with the trio of partially submerged rocks in the foreground. There were no clouds in the sky, but the twilight wedge added a lot of nice pink to the scene. 

Full Moon RisingFull Moon RisingHarvest Moon rising off the coast of Rye, New Hampshire.

Three months later, I went out again on a brutally cold and windy evening to Nubble Light in York, Maine to shoot the full moon shining over the lighthouse, decorated for Christmas.

Two nice moon shots in just a few months! I started thinking I should give the full moon more of my attention. 

Little did I know how difficult that endeavor would be. It wasn't for lack of effort. Mother Nature simply did not see fit to provide me another opportunity to photograph the rising full moon for the next 18 months (the rest of the time I lived in the Granite State). 

Three Super Moons in a row: clear skies but extreme haze at the horizon. I trudged out to the ocean each time. It wasn't obvious whether it was haze out there or not - but as moonrise came and went, and there was nothing in the sky.....

On those occasions it took more than 30 minutes before anything was visible, and by then of course it was too high in the sky.

Other times, it was raining - or overcast.  

If it seems far-fetched when you hear a photographer talk about the fact that it took years to make a specific image, you can now understand how that can be.

Here's hoping for clear skies on Monday!


(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) eclipse full moon rebecca metschke photography Sat, 19 Aug 2017 15:19:11 GMT
The Western Slope The Western SlopeThe Western SlopeOften called "the quiet side," the western slope of the Teton Range is less often visited - but stunningly beautiful. Ample snow remains at the summit of Fred's Mountain, even in late July: a lingering reminder of the previous winter's record precipitation. (From Alta, Wyoming)

Referred to as "the quiet side," the western slope of the Teton Range is much less frequently visited. People who don't head over the pass outside of Jackson, Wyoming to see what's over in the Teton Valley are missing something quite beautiful.

Especially as you make your way north of Driggs and on into Tetonia, the views of the Grand are stunning.

Also on the west side, in a little sliver of Wyoming which is isolated from the rest of the state, you'll find the town of Alta and nearby Grand Targhee Ski Resort. If you're into skiing, you probably already know that Grand Targhee is considered one of the top four ski resorts in the country, averaging over 500 inches of powder each season.

I'm a big fan of Grand Targhee in the summer. The vistas from the summit of Fred's Mountain (roughly 9800 feet) are lovely. You can take the ski lift to the top and hike in a variety of directions from there. The Cathedral Peaks are only about eight miles away, so this is a terrific vantage point from which to view them. Also, unlike on the eastern side, there are foothills to the west which are quite green during the summer months and set off the higher peaks nicely.

I made this image yesterday. We've been in a monsoonal flow for the past few days, which generates beautiful storm clouds over the mountains each afternoon. Last week I captured an approaching storm from Grand Teton National Park. This time I was hoping to get the incoming action on the opposite side, and from altitude. The conditions didn't disappoint. In fact, it didn't just rain. Things turned interesting quickly as the rain morphed into a thunderstorm - which meant it was time to get off the summit quickly. 

There will be a few more chances as this weather pattern is expected to hold for another couple of days.

(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) mountains rebecca metschke photography tetons Sat, 29 Jul 2017 22:18:56 GMT
Summer Storms Monsoon SeasonMonsoon SeasonSummer in the mountains: a southwesterly flow creates sometimes spectacular afternoon thunderstorms. (Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming)

High pressure has been parked over the western United States in just the right spot to create a southwesterly flow and deliver monsoonal moisture to the Tetons for the better part of the past week. Just about every afternoon you can count on cloud production to create interesting skies. It's even better when things go one step further and we get some storms.

Yesterday, with the forecast calling for a 50% chance of rain, I hoped something would happen. By late morning, as cumulus clouds began to form, I kept one eye to the sky - and was thinking about where I'd want to photograph the storm if, indeed, one materialized. 

This being the height of tourist season, I was less than enthusiastic about venturing to the barns on Mormon Row in the middle of the afternoon. Still, based on the direction from which clouds were coming, it seemed like that might be a good spot. I went by and waited there for an hour or so while watching the changes in the sky. While the clouds did begin to darken, there weren't enough of least not at that point.  I bailed out and drove a few miles away to see what I could do with lupines dotting the fields. Better positioned to take advantage of the stormy clouds that were trying to thicken but hadn't yet filled the sky, I spent the next hour working there.

As I was wrapping up, though, things began changing rapidly overhead! Rain was definitely on the way.

I raced back over to the barn, hoping it wouldn't be mobbed but expecting I'd just have to make do with people milling about. Oddly - wonderfully! - I was the only person there. I grabbed my gear, ran over to set up, and started firing away. I shot from three different vantage points, moving quickly to keep up with the clouds which were shifting quite a bit. Suddenly, some sunlight found its way through a break in the overcast, lighting up the remaining snow on one section of mountain peaks. I re-positioned myself yet again to place that enhanced snow just to the left of the barn's roof, and centered the white "donut" in the clouds - like a huge punctuation mark - over the entire scene below.

After having endured a long stretch of tough-going in terms of shooting conditions, the afternoon's turn of events felt nearly magical. 

Of course, it wasn't a wild coincidence. Based on the weather patterns, at the very least I knew I'd get some nice clouds over the Tetons at some point during the afternoon. That's why I scheduled the shoot in the first place. (That said, I walked away with nothing the day before - in spite of copious cumulus clouds followed by rain.) Beyond that, yesterday's forecast called for a better chance of precipitation than the previous afternoon. I figured the odds were favorable in terms of the pattern repeating itself.

Still - there's rain, and then there's rain. Mother Nature delivered something special. I was fortunate the location I settled on ended up working as well as it did to capture the beautiful skies.

(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) barn grand teton national park mountains rebecca metschke photography storms Tue, 18 Jul 2017 21:42:48 GMT
Back in the Garden I just returned from a shoot in and around Chicago. One of my chief objectives while there was to work extensively at the Chicago Botanic Garden. While the Greater Yellowstone region (now my home base) is undeniably beautiful, there's no getting around the arid climate. Consequently, there are no public gardens to speak of, and of course not many trees. Big skies? Yes. Greenery? Not so much. Venturing back east of the 100th parallel is not only an opportunity for me to photograph flowers, it's also a welcome chance to soak up as much green as possible!

Unfortunately, the conditions all week were challenging. Most difficult to deal with was the wind, which was a factor every time I went out. Extra perseverance was the order of the day.....every day. 

Happily, in spite of the lack of calm air, I was still able to accomplish some of what I'd hoped to do. Even the water lilies, which were swaying to and fro in rippled pools that were seldom completely still, managed to briefly cooperate.

Water LilyWater LilyChicago Botanic Garden - Glencoe, Illinois

(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) Chicago Botanic Garden Rebecca Metschke Photography flowers water lilies Thu, 29 Jun 2017 23:34:46 GMT
Green Season The Fence Line IThe Fence Line IGrand Teton National Park, Wyoming

After a long winter during which the Teton Range received record amounts of snowfall, the arrival of "green season" is especially welcome this year. I find spring to be the prettiest time on both sides of the Tetons. Newly leafed out, aspens and cottonwoods dot the landscape in lovely lime and kelly greens. The grass and underbrush are lush. Wildflowers begin to bloom. Huge expanses of agricultural fields are painted bright green. Still covered with snow, the mountains add interesting contrast to the scenery: a juxtaposition of seasons.

There has been so much runoff that the rivers are not only quite high, but also churned up. As a result, some are not as photogenic as they normally would be. Over in the red hills of Bridger-Teton National Forest east of Grand Teton National Park, the Gros Ventre River and Slide Lake are brownish-red right now. The effect is even more pronounced on sunny days. Those locations will have to wait a while before I can make images including water. 

I'll gladly wait. All that additional moisture should be an asset later on when fire season is upon us.

(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) Rebecca Metschke Photography Tetons green season mountains spring Fri, 09 Jun 2017 02:13:02 GMT
Eye to Eye With the Teton Peaks I've been wanting to photograph the Teton Peaks up-close (via small plane) for months. In the summer, haze can be an issue - especially in a year like 2016 when fire season began early and burned within close proximity.

While the air quality is much better in the winter, obviously there is the weather to deal with at that time of year. The winter of 2016/2017 was especially snowy, which made travel between Idaho and Wyoming challenging on a number of occasions. With front after front marching through the area, it's also been difficult to find a suitable break between storm systems with a good chance for the kind of sky and quality of light I wanted.

Finally last week, it looked as though the conditions might be workable. I scheduled the plane and pilot for a late evening flight in hopes of catching alpenglow on the western faces of the mountains. 

(Side note: a benefit of flying in early April versus January or February is the temperature! With the window open in the plane, a winter shoot can get mighty chilly.) 

Unlike the eastern side of the Teton range, where flight restrictions over the National Park limit you to landscape shots (i.e. aircraft must stay to the east of the Snake River), you can get right up into the mountains on the western side. It's quite a view.

Though there were very few clouds visible from ground level on the Jackson side, once we got into the air we saw that cumulus clouds were blanketing the western side of the range. While this would limit some of what I'd be able to shoot, it also added something special: the highest peaks were poking out of the clouds.

We made a pass by the Cathedral Group and then up to Mount Moran before turning around for a second look. In that short time, the light from the setting sun had already changed dramatically and was even warmer. I photographed another series. Looking to the west, however, we could see we were soon going to lose our window of opportunity. High clouds associated with an approaching front were moving in much earlier than had been forecast and would put a damper on the hoped-for alpenglow. 

We made one final pass in front of the Cathedral peaks and then headed back for the airport.

Mother Nature always has the final say! 

Last LightLast LightThe last rays of sunlight warm the western peaks of Grand Teton and Mount Owen at the end of the day. (Teton Range, Wyoming)

(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) Rebecca Metschke Photography Tetons aerial photography mountains Mon, 03 Apr 2017 16:49:07 GMT
Movement in Sandstone Lower Antelope CanyonLower Antelope CanyonNear Page, Arizona Last week I had the opportunity to work in two of the slot canyons near Page, Arizona: Upper Antelope and Lower Antelope. There are hundreds of such canyons in the general vicinity; according to our Navajo guide, it's in excess of 900. Created primarily by erosion due to flash flooding, there is a lovely sense of movement throughout. The rushing water leaves behind not only elegant, curving shapes, but also etches graceful lines through much of the rock. 

These are challenging locations in which to photograph. Many of the passageways very narrow which limits maneuverability, and there is extreme contrast between bright light spilling in from above and many darker, shadowy areas. Another difficulty: the many tourists constantly passing by. 

From that perspective, Lower Antelope Canyon is the better of the two. Because it's more difficult to access, requiring visitors to slide through a crack and then descend down sets of narrow ladders, more people tend to bypass it. It was far less congested.

The slot canyons are further examples of the many wonderful things to be found in the Colorado Plateau.

(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) Arizona Colorado Plateau Lower Antelope Canyon Rebecca Metschke Photography Upper Antelope Canyon slot canyons Tue, 21 Mar 2017 21:52:20 GMT
Bryce Canyon in Winter Morning ColorMorning ColorIn spite of the lack of clouds, the rising sun still manages to paint the sky as it nears the horizon. (Navajo Loop Trail, Bryce Amphitheater - Bryce Canyon National Park, Utah)

I just returned from a 4-day shoot at Bryce Canyon National Park. Though we have been inundated with snow in Eastern Idaho this winter, I was dismayed to find the ground in Salt Lake City nearly clear as I drove through. Knowing that Bryce - though topping out at 9,100 feet - had also just experienced its first warm snap of the winter, I wondered what I'd find there. After all, one visits Bryce the first week of February hoping for winter conditions....not an early taste of springtime!

Fortunately, there was indeed snow - and plenty of it. In fact, the far southern end of the park was still closed following a recent storm. (Unfortunately, this meant I would be unable to access the bristlecone pines which had been on my shot list. Since it was winter conditions I was seeking, that was a price worth paying.)

With the exception of a snowstorm (the aftermath of which would have been great), I encountered just about every other type of condition. Clear blue skies, a few colorful sunrises, snow squalls, complete overcast, fog, high winds and extreme cold, borderline uncomfortable name it.

Long distance location shoots can be a challenge. All the careful prior planning often ends up tossed out the window as improvisation - and perseverance - instead become the name of the game. The weather cannot be controlled! If you've driven hundreds of miles to get to your workplace, then you must make do with whatever is encountered. 

With an eye on both the sky and the clock, and keeping track of the forecast, you do your best to position yourself optimally to take advantage of what Mother Nature is serving up. If conditions are changeable, you must have the patience to wait - and wait some more - to see what happens at a given location. Sometimes this is time very well spent. On other occasions, it's just......time spent.

A little bit of luck never hurts, either.

(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) Bryce Canyon National Park Rebecca Metschke Photography landscapes winter Fri, 10 Feb 2017 23:07:29 GMT
2016: The Year in Review Photographically speaking, the last 12 months have been busy indeed.

Still a relative "newbie" to the Intermountain West, I worked diligently to acclimate to a new region, while continuing to shoot back east of the Mississippi as much as the schedule allowed.

I was fortunate in February to explore frigid Yellowstone National Park. Probably the highlight of the year, this opportunity to see the park in the dead of winter when it's relatively empty - and when the brutally cold temperatures magnify the magnificent thermal features - was fantastic. Yes, stepping out in minus 24 degree weather first thing in the morning does deliver a bit of a jolt to the system! That said, I wouldn't have traded it. The hoar frost, the steam, the ghost was all that much more spectacular due to the extreme cold.

Ghost Trees IIGhost Trees IIWhen it's extremely cold, steam from thermal features coats nearby trees with ice. Combined with snowfall, the result is "ghost trees" caked in thick layers of white. (Midway Geyser Basin, Yellowstone National Park) Arches National Park was on April's schedule. The weather was erratic the entire time, as a strong system which remained parked over Colorado tossed all sorts of wildly changeable conditions back into Utah. Patience and persistence were key. One afternoon, I spent nearly four hours at Balanced Rock watching storm after storm march through the area. It was worth the wait. While I didn't make the photograph I had anticipated, I ended up with some pretty special skies - and probably an even better image than the one I originally had in mind.

Early June took me to the Palouse in eastern Washington and north-central Idaho. This region is challenging to photograph due to its immense size. It's not as realistic/possible here to quickly chase the light from one location to another as it might be in a more compact area. The conditions during this week were also challenging in that it was quite hazy - a little bit of a surprise so early in the season. Still, the rolling loess hills did not disappoint.

Loess Hills of the PalouseLoess Hills of the PalouseLate day light accentuates the lovely rolling hills of the Palouse in southeastern Washington. Summer in the Tetons - what I now consider my "home turf" - is short but quite beautiful. This year, the season was truncated further as wildfires began burning in mid-July, filling the skies with heavy smoke. On the Idaho side, the fields are beautifully lush in early June while the mountains remain snow covered. Exquisite!

The Green ValleyThe Green ValleyWith the arrival of spring and its rains, the Teton Valley comes alive and is painted in hues of green - while the mountains provide a lovely snow-covered contrast. On this early evening, the sky quickly changed as rain approached the area. This formation was the most interesting, as a single vertically oriented cloud drifted into position above Grand Teton, mimicking its peak. (Near Tetonia, Idaho) Over on the Wyoming side, wildflowers bloom as everything comes back to life.

Mountain WildflowersMountain WildflowersArrowleaf balsamroot (Balsamorhiza sagittata) decorates the fields of Grand Teton National Park in the spring. Meantime, I snuck back East to Virginia to do some work in Shenandoah National Park and the surrounding area in mid-summer.

Magical MistMagical MistAfter rainfall during the night, morning dawns with fog hovering over the valley floor. (Shenandoah Valley - Crimora, Virginia) I was also able to get one aerial shoot under my belt in July before the skies filled with way too much smoke from the many forest fires. Thanks to the folks at Fly Jackson Hole for the assist! One of the best ways to appreciate Yellowstone's Grand Prismatic Spring is from the air.   Grand Prismatic SpringGrand Prismatic SpringThe only way to really appreciate Grand Prismatic Spring is from the air. From this perspective, not only is its otherworldy appearance apparent, but also its size (note the man on the walkway...though only a speck from the sky, he casts a long shadow). Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming The one thing we needed to dampen all the fires was rain - but it was in very short supply. That said, I happened to be in the Teton Valley one afternoon just as rain was getting ready to move into the area. Though the fast-moving storm delivered very little precipitation, it created some dramatic conditions. I enjoy shooting from the western side of the Tetons since it's a view much less often photographed. 

And the Rain CameAnd the Rain CameSheets of rain darken the sky above this old homestead standing in a field of wheat nearly ready for harvest. The Tetons create an imposing backdrop. (Alta, Wyoming) Autumn came early this year to Grand Teton National Park; my foliage shoot was well underway by the middle of September. I find the colors to be the most vibrant (and varied) in the north end of the park, where some of the trees try to mimic their cousins back in New England. One morning at the Oxbow Bend of the Snake River, some surprise showers moved quickly through the area at daybreak - marching north from the Cathedral Peaks to Mount Moran just as the sun was clearing the opposite horizon. Both the mountain and the rain clouds were briefly painted in lovely pinks: an unexpected bit of added good fortune on a morning that delivered changeable and very special conditions for nearly 90 minutes.

Purple RainPurple RainJust as the sun is clearing the opposite horizon, a band of showers moves almost directly in front of Mount Moran - briefly painting both the mountains and the falling rain in pink and purple. (Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming) On the heels of my shoot at Grand Teton, I ventured back to my adoptive state of New Hampshire. For me, there is NOTHING like autumn in New England, so I was thrilled to be back on my home turf. There, I was treated to spectacular foliage in spite of very dry conditions. I shot both in the White Mountains and at Acadia National Park.

Birches IBirches INew Hampshire's state tree, the paper birch (Betula papyrifera) graces the landscape with beautiful white trunks. (Near Gorham, New Hampshire) In early December I continued work on The Christmas Project, which has now spanned seven holiday seasons. The highlight this time was Chicago's Morton Arboretum and its captivating Illuminations light show. I visited twice and could easily have gone back a third time had my schedule not been limited. I also did some work in Barrington, Long Grove, McHenry (all in suburban Chicago), and in the city itself. Ornament HillOrnament HillMorton Arboretum Illumination - Lisle, Illinois Finally, I'm ending the year working locally in eastern Idaho and western Wyoming. This abandoned house in Swan Valley seemed especially lonely over the holiday season. 

The Ghost of Christmas PastThe Ghost of Christmas PastContemplating this abandoned house on a frigid afternoon just before Christmas, one wonders how different it might have looked when it was occupied and decorated for the holidays. (Swan Valley, Idaho) I look forward to the photographic adventures which the new year will bring. Thank you for visiting the website!

Wishing you and yours a happy and healthy new year,




(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) Rebecca Metschke Photography Wed, 28 Dec 2016 05:00:33 GMT
Holiday Greetings! Holiday Greetings!

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Happy New Year!

And so I'm offering this simple phrase
To kids from one to ninety-two
Although it's been said
Many times, many ways
Merry Christmas to you.

YesteryearYesteryearThis landmark covered bridge stands at the entrance to historic downtown Long Grove, Illinois. On a mostly overcast afternoon, a bit of color still managed to peek through as the sun went down.

(Rebecca Metschke Photography | Fine Art Landscape Photography) Merry Christmas Rebecca Metschke Photography Sat, 24 Dec 2016 16:42:57 GMT