Joanna Steidle’s drone photography has won 35+ international awards and hangs in museums. But when she talks about her most important work, she doesn’t mention the accolades. She talks about menhaden.
“They’re the most important fish in our sea,” award-winning photographer Joanna Steidle said. “Everything depends on them, and they’re getting sucked up.”
For the past seven years, Steidle has been documenting marine life migrations off Long Island’s east coast, creating what she calls a “legacy” of coastal and marine ecosystem documentation. While her stunning images of dolphins and rays attract gallery attention, the data she’s collecting through those flights serves a larger purpose: conservation.
“I work in conservation efforts here,” she said. “My data in terms of what I’m seeing as a visual observer of the schools of fish migrating when and where and how many — that really helps.”
Beyond the artistry and technical skill, Steidle is building a years-long visual record of ecosystem changes that scientists and conservationists can use.
The baitfish nobody sees
Atlantic menhaden — the small, oily fish that appear in Steidl’s award-winning “Another World” photograph pictured above — are what marine biologists call a keystone species. They filter-feed on plankton and in turn feed everything from striped bass to whales. But their commercial value as bait and fish meal means they’re harvested in massive quantities.
“They spawn in Chesapeake Bay, it’s sucked up by the commercial fleets just off the coast of Jersey, and they never make it out here,” Steidle said.
For years now, Steidle has been tracking when schools appear, how large they are and what other species they attract. Her aerial perspective provides something traditional marine surveys can’t: a visual record of distribution patterns along miles of coastline.
“I’m working on a full documentation story of the baitfish,” she said. Her project will follow the menhaden migration from Chesapeake Bay up the coast, documenting where commercial fishing intercepts them and what that means for coastal ecosystems further north.
She’s even planning to extend the documentation to Louisiana, where Gulf menhaden face similar pressures.
“They have issues down there with the red menhaden, the Gulf menhaden,” she said.
The challenge of documenting absence and behavioral change
Fish: One of the unique problems in marine conservation is proving that fish populations have declined. Her photos aren’t necessarily to show what’s there, but what isn’t.
“If the fish aren’t here, it’s very difficult for me to prove that there’s no fish, except to go out and go to every beach and document that there is no fish,” she said. “It just eats up too much time and there’s no real return on that.”
Systematic documentation of what’s absent is harder to monetize but potentially more valuable scientifically.
“The past two years have been difficult,” she said, referring to periods when expected fish migrations simply didn’t materialize. Those empty flights don’t produce gallery-worthy images, but they’re critical data points.
Rays: Since 2018, Steidle has been documenting cow nose ray migrations along the East Coast. “We’re steadily increasing with those numbers for the cow nose rays,” she reports. “Over the years, we are seeing more and more each year.”
That’s valuable trend data, captured incidentally through her artistic practice. When scientists want to understand how ray populations are responding to warming waters or changing food availability, Steidle’s multi-year photographic record provides visual evidence.
Whales: Steidle’s focus on humpback whale lunge feeding isn’t just about getting a spectacular sho t— though it would be spectacular. It’s about documenting a behavior that’s unique to New England and difficult to capture comprehensively.
“Here is where those humpbacks charge open mouth through the surface like this and the fish scatter everywhere,” she said. “I don’t really see it happening anywhere else in the world.”
Traditional marine research relies heavily on boat-based observation. But a boat can’t position itself directly above a feeding whale without disturbing the animal. Drones (and notably her drone of choice, the DJI Mavic 3 Pro) can.
“It’s something you can’t get from a boat,” Steidle said. That top-down perspective shows the spatial relationship between whales and baitfish, the coordination between multiple whales and the fish response patterns — all in a single frame.
Conservation through connection
Steidle grew up on a commercial clam boat, giving her firsthand experience with marine resource extraction.
“My father had a clam transplant business — 500,000 clams a day in and out,” she said. “So I knew what it was like to work firsthand and live from the sea. I now have a great love of the ocean,” she said.
The geographic focus as scientific method
While many drone photographers travel globally for variety (or perhaps as an excuse to explore far-off lands), Steidle’s decision to focus exclusively on the East Coast serves a research purpose.
“If I do it long enough, I will have a massive set of documentation,” she said. “I’m going to keep my strong focus here on the East Coast of the United States, New England down to Florida, and I’m just going to have to chase the fish.”
That longitudinal approach — repeatedly documenting the same geographic area over years — is how scientists track change. Steidle is essentially conducting a visual survey, using the same equipment, covering the same areas, season after season.
Compare that to traveling to Bali for a week, getting spectacular images, then moving to Iceland. Beautiful photography, but no continuity. No ability to show how it is changing.
The Mother Nature ritual
Before each flight, Steidle has a ritual.
“I have my little come-to-me Mother Nature, and I always ask Mother Nature to take me to what she feels should be captured in that time and moment.”
It might sound mystical, but it’s actually a methodology: stay open to what’s actually happening rather than forcing a predetermined narrative.
“You may be on a mission to do the marine life, but you may turn around and see this cloud formation that’s just unbelievable,” she said.
For conservation work, this openness is crucial. You might launch looking for menhaden schools and discover an unexpected species interaction. You might expect to find fish and document their absence. The value is in honest observation, not confirming your hypothesis.
“I never have this expectation,” Steidle said. “Sometimes I think I can feel it — oh, it’s going to happen today! But I just believe in trusting your gut instinct.”
So what’s next for her?
“At this point I’m starting to build what I believe is somewhat of a legacy,” she said. Not a legacy of awards (though those continue to accumulate) but a documentation legacy.
She mentions projects spanning years: the menhaden migration study, the humpback feeding documentation, the marsh and sand pattern series.
“I see the potential to do quite a bit more and more meaningful projects that span over years,” she said.
Climate change, commercial fishing pressure, coastal development, and pollution are all affecting marine ecosystems. But change happens gradually, over years and decades. By the time problems become undeniable, critical tipping points may have passed.
Long-term visual documentation provides early warning. It shows what normal looked like before the decline. It captures the transition. It provides the evidence that something has changed.
If she continues this work for another 15 or 20 years, she’ll have one of the most comprehensive visual records of East Coast marine ecosystem changes available.
Follow Joanna Steidl’s conservation and fine art work on Instagram @joannasteidle or visit JoannaSteidle.com to see her latest marine life documentation projects.
Watch our full interview below:
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