From Wilderness to the Cosmos: Behind the Lens with Tony Hebert

For this edition of our Behind the Print blog series, we’re proud to feature the evocative and awe-inspiring work of landscape, wildlife, and astrophotographer Tony Hebert, the creative force behind 319 Photography. With a portfolio that spans glowing night skies, towering peaks, and dramatic natural phenomena, Tony’s images transport viewers to the edge of the wild - where silence, wonder, and chaos coexist.

Through a self-taught journey shaped by relentless exploration and a deep love for nature, Tony has evolved into not just a world-class photographer, but also a mentor to others seeking to master their craft. At Artbeat Studios, we’re honored to help preserve his breathtaking scenes in print - and excited to share the story behind his artistry and mission.

Website: www.319photography.com

Instagram: www.instagram.com/319_photography

Facebook: www.facebook.com/319photo

Q&A with Tony Hebert:

How did 319 Photography begin? What inspired you to pursue landscape, wildlife, and

astrophotography in particular?

319 Photography had its spark way back in my childhood, though it didn’t exactly start with a camera in my hands. I grew up in a family of painters and sketchers—my grandmother and mom could turn a blank canvas into magic. Naturally, they tried to pass that gift on to me. The problem? I was utterly hopeless with a paintbrush. No matter how simple the lesson, my artistic attempts looked more like crime scenes than masterpieces.

Fast-forward to high school: the moment of truth. I had to pick an elective. My school in Edmond, Oklahoma, just so happened to offer Photography, and in my teenage brain, I figured I’d found the perfect loophole. The photography teacher was also my Track & Field coach—Coach Hawkins—and I thought, “Easy A, baby.”

Well… not so fast.

Turns out, Coach Hawkins wasn’t about to let us coast through. He was a serious photographer, and he made us earn every frame. Four years later, I had a crash course in light, exposure, and composition—film, darkroom, the whole nine yards. My “Easy A” became the foundation of everything I’d eventually build as a photographer.

By college, I was lucky enough to step into my first professional gig with the Oklahoma Tourism & Recreation Department. That gig was like strapping a rocket booster to my camera bag. I was out there capturing the soul of Oklahoma, sharpening my style, and realizing that all those childhood lessons in color and composition—combined with Hawkins’ no-nonsense photography boot camp—were fueling something much bigger.

The name 319 Photography comes from my desire to honor my wife, Jeanelle. Without her and her unwavering support, I wouldn’t be able to do what I do. Roughly ten years ago I rebranded and chose the date I married the love of my life, March 19, as the new name for my photography business.

Pro tip: it’s also a good way to never forget your wedding anniversary.

Tony and his wife Jeanelle in the field

So why landscape, wildlife, and astrophotography? Because that’s where I come alive. I’ve always felt more at home under a star-studded sky, next to a mountain stream, or in the company of some wild creature than I do anywhere else. The wild doesn’t ask you to be anything but present. And for me, that connection is everything - it’s where my artistry and my humanity both find their spark.

What drew you to wildlife, landscapes, and astrophotography? How do those genres

connect in your work?

I think my love for landscapes started way back on those family camping trips where we’d pitch a tent, burn questionable marshmallows, and hike until our legs protested. Even as a kid, I felt something profound about just being out there - existing in nature with no walls, no screens, just earth, sky, and the occasional mosquito trying to eat me alive. That sense of wonder is what I wanted to capture in my photography, and it still drives me today.

Astrophotography came about early on, almost by accident. I’d stay out shooting landscapes and sunsets, and before I knew it, the stars would pop out like someone flipped a switch. I’d look up, camera still in hand, and think: “Well, why not?” Pretty soon, I was pointing my lens skyward more than at the horizon. It hit me that the real magic wasn’t just the landscape or the sky. It was the two together, in one epic frame. That’s how astro-landscape photography became my signature obsession.

And then there’s wildlife. Honestly, I’ve always connected more with animals than people. Growing up, most of my free time was spent in nature where encounters with deer, birds, or the occasional curious raccoon felt almost like secret conversations. For me, wildlife photography has never really been about “getting the shot.” It’s about the moment - the quiet exchange with another living being who doesn’t care about your deadlines, your emails, or whether you’ve got a signal.

The photograph? For me, that’s just the by-product of a much deeper experience.

Can you share your most unforgettable wildlife encounter and what it taught you about patience or perspective?

Bears, especially Grizzlies, have always had a strange pull on me. Maybe it’s fate. My Southern Louisiana French-Cajun surname, Hebert, is pronounced “A-Bear,” and on top of that, my grandmother’s Native American heritage instilled a respect for the bear as a powerful figure in culture and lore. So really, I never stood a chance. I was destined to seek out these animals with a camera.

For years, I photographed Grizzlies in places like Yellowstone and the Rockies, but the magic wasn’t quite there. Why? Too many humans. Nothing kills a wilderness vibe faster than fifty tourists with selfie sticks. So after some research, I set my sights on a special part of Alaska - a remote patch of true wilderness where the bears haven’t learned to fear or beg from people. Just a place where bears can be bears and a photographer can respectfully be in the same environment, ultimately hoping not to look like a snack.

That’s where it happened. A few years back, I was with a sow and her three spring cubs. At first, I watched them from a respectful 75–80 yards. Then slowly, almost deliberately, she grazed closer… and closer… until she brought her cubs within fifteen feet of me. Fifteen. Feet. Let me tell you, no amount of coffee gives you that kind of adrenaline rush. And yet, she was calm. No aggression, no tension. If anything, she seemed proud, like she was showing off her little family.

And here’s the kicker: I put my camera down. Sure, I captured a few frames, but mostly I just knelt there in the marsh, breathing the same air, connected to four wild souls in one of the last untouched places on Earth. It was unforgettable.

What did it teach me? Two things: patience and mindfulness. Patience is the line between amateurs and professionals; it’s what lets you stay long enough for moments like this to happen. And mindfulness? That’s remembering not to live only through the viewfinder. Sometimes the best photograph is the one you don’t take, because the real prize is just being present in the moment.

What’s the toughest physical challenge you’ve faced while shooting in the field?

One of the toughest physical challenges I’ve ever faced with a camera happened on the northern shore of Lake Michigan - a place that, when calm, looks like paradise, and when angry, looks like it was designed to audition for a disaster movie.

I had scouted this tucked-away beach spot, convinced it would deliver a killer sunset image. A storm was building over the lake and I hoped it would provide some great, dramatic clouds for sunset. Somewhere along the storm's life cycle, it somehow ingested steroids and rapidly grew stronger and stronger. Radar showed it barreling straight toward my chosen stretch of sand, and this was no longer a gentle summer sprinkle. Winds were slamming 40–50 mph with gusts topping 70. The lake had transformed into a frothing ocean impersonator, waves lunging at the beach like they had a vendetta. Melville couldn’t have imagined a better storm. In short: it was perfect conditions for a rational human to stay home. Naturally, I grabbed my gear and went.

The one thing driving me was a small break in the clouds on the Western horizon. I knew that it could be epic if it held and the sun broke through, so I had no choice but to chance it. The 300-yard stroll to my shooting spot turned into an extreme sport. With each step, waves erased chunks of beach, forcing me into a soggy game of “don’t die hopscotch” along slippery rocks. By some miracle, I arrived at my chosen vantage point - drenched and windblown, but still in one piece.

Now came the fun part: setting up a long exposure in hurricane-adjacent winds. My tripod alone didn’t stand a chance, so, using my environment, I forced the legs of my tripod into a sandbank until only the ball head was sticking out, like some buried treasure for future photographers. I slapped on my neutral density filters, wiped lake spray off my lens about every four seconds, and prayed that sliver of clear sky on the horizon would hold.

And then, it happened. The sun punched through the storm clouds, igniting the beach in golden light just as a wave crashed and retreated. I fired the shutter, praying that my exposure settings were accurate as I had no idea what exactly the light would be like when and if the sun broke.

The shutter closed. Too dark. One more shot.

Adjust settings. Another wave, last chance.

Shutter open. Shutter closed.

Mere seconds later, the clouds swallowed the sun whole and the show was over.

Lying there in the sand, water dripping off me, camera clinging to life under a coating of lake spray, I looked at my LCD screen and saw the shot. It was all worth it. The hike out was just as sketchy as the hike in - but this time, I was grinning the whole way.

The shot that made the "don't-die-hopscotch" worth it.

What is a dream expedition you haven’t done yet?

There are many locations and subjects on my list that I have yet to visit and photograph - and many of them I would consider a dream destination. But, somewhere near the top, at least for today (it’s a moving target) is an expedition to photograph castles in Ireland. That thought has a very interesting appeal to me, combining a mix of nostalgia, mysticism, history, lore, and beautiful architecture.

What advice would you give to new and aspiring artists?

Specifically for new and aspiring photographers, I have three nuggets of advice:

1. Learn exposure and how to use and manipulate light. It is far too easy in today’s world of digital photography to rely on instant gratification and guesswork because your LCD screen immediately shows you the results of your last shutter actuation. If you rely on that solely, you’re not actually a photographer. Understand light and its relation to any given scene, how to capture it, and how to use it to your advantage and you’ll become a much better photographer.

2. Seek artistic advice/criticism from artistic mentors or trusted sources only. If you get caught up on what the masses think about your work, you’ll never be happy. This is extremely prevalent when posting your images on social media. There are a lot of “experts” on social media whose opinion is worthless. As an artist, create for yourself first. If you make yourself happy and love the work you do, it will show and it will resonate with others.

3. Learn patience. Oftentimes amateur photographers pack up before the magic happens. Patience, like I said earlier, separates the good photographers from the great photographers. Wait it out, you’ll be surprised by what happens.

As someone who works with dramatic landscapes and stellar nightscapes, what printing products or finishes help to bring your vision to life and why?

From a personal, artistic perspective, I prefer to showcase my work on metal with full gloss finish. The effect of this particular medium paired with how I capture and post process my images truly makes them shine. I am often asked if images are on glass or are backlit and that speaks volumes about the look of the metals with a gloss finish. I find the depth and vibrancy is unmatched.

Over the years, I have tried other mediums such as canvas or acrylic, but I kept coming back to the metal prints. Now, I exclusively print on metal and only vary if I have a custom order or commission.

What led you to partner with Artbeat Studios for your fine art printing needs?

This is an easy answer! The quality and service offered by Artbeat Studios is completely unmatched in this industry. I’ve tried other labs and have always had mediocre experiences. Artbeat Studios, however, is a completely different story.

The way my images look in print and the quality of the inks and materials used is very important to me as an artist. I’ve been a loyal ArtBeat Studios customer for many, many years now because I know that when I send them an image to print, I’m getting the best of the best in return.

The customer service at ArtBeat is the best in the industry. They truly care about your images and the way they look on their products and they don’t settle for anything less than exceptional!