Author: Greg Molyneux

  • Momentary Lapse

    Momentary Lapse

    Sunset photo of a rising supermoon over gentle waves of Barnegat Bay.
    Momentary Lapse — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1600

    Two moon shots in a row? If you’ve been following my work for any length of time you know moon/night photography isn’t an all too common occurrence in this house. It’s not that I don’t love me some moon, it’s just that I lack the requisite gear to make some hay in this department. Long lenses—telephotos—are not (in) my bag, baby. Yet here I am backing up Saturday’s lunar landscape with another moon sunset from Sunday; and as I am sure you’ve heard ad nauseum it was the start of supermoon central on the internets. For the next 24 hours Facebook and Instagram were inundated with giant orbs from our number one satellite. It was a lot like Majora’s Mask only less cool and with a worse soundtrack. Never one to want to miss out on the party I present you my contribution: photographed at 35mm overlooking Barnegat Bay from Barnegat Bay Beach in Barnegat, New Jersey. (Say Barnegat again, Greg. Please.)

    Now if you’ll allow me to enter critique mode. Photographing handheld from the bay beach my intention was the get a front focus shot of some lime green mossy stuff strewn about the shoreline. I was shooting wide open at f/1.4 going for shallow depth of field where the middle ground and back ground faded away into smooth bokeh. Most of my shots Sunday were made with this in mind. However, I did pop off a few off frames where I focused out to infinity to bring clarity to the middle ground and back ground. Instead of stopping down to f/5.6 which increases overall sharpness while simultaneously pulling the acceptable range of focus closer to the viewer, I stayed wide open with the aperture. This is why the foreground is somewhat out of focus here. None of this is wrong, of course, and frankly the movement from out of focus and into focus creates a different kind of mood with the photograph. I am just conceding that if I went into this shoot with the goal of producing a sharp landscape, I absolutely would have used my tripod and stopped down to f/5.6 or f/8 instead of going with wide open handheld action.

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  • Placebo

    Placebo

    Sunset photo of a reflective moonrise over marsh amid pastel clouds.
    Placebo — 35mm | f/5.6 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Gazing east from Cedar Run Dock Road during last night’s sunset while simultaneously treated to a 96% waxing gibbous moonrise was exactly what the doctor ordered. To far away Tranquility Base, detached from the present day reality of this earthly world, I salute you. Prior to yesterday’s sexy sky business, landscape photography wasn’t even on my radar. Conditions were crisp and cool all day with nary a cloud in the sky. Besides that I was tasked with making some afternoon family photographs—gasp!—of my friend and her parents. (Two super cute doggies in tow.) Despite my total lack of experience the shoot went well enough—I hope. Being out there, exposed outside of my comfort zone yet surviving, had an added benefit: the development of high level cirrus clouds building toward the east. The rusted gears of my mind began to turn and clank.

    Leaving the shoot and driving over the LBI causeway bridge back toward the mainland I was hemming and hawing on whether to shoot and where to go. To the west the sky was mostly clear so a traditional sunset seemed out. To the east the clouds kept calling. Further down Route 72 West the exit to Route 9 South approached—reflexively right blinker went click, click, click—I suppose Dock Road it is. Driving down the isthmus and out onto the marsh an unexpected wrinkle was thrown into the fold; a big fat mostly full moon was a few inches over the eastern horizon and the plot began to thicken. Even though prime pastel cloud color was good 20 minutes away, it was a lock that the moon would sit large and in charge amid a cotton candy sky. As an added bonus the wind had died and the water was calm and reflective. For a chilly evening in November everything came up Greg with a sugar pill dose of much needed calm and pleasure.

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  • I Wonder

    I Wonder

    Golden hour photograph lights up a derelict marina.
    I Wonder — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/100

    I wonder what the future holds
    Hope or fear light or dark untold
    Uncertain what the day will bring
    Nighttime darkness turns and sings

    Tread lone to sole’s despair
    Shine and polish to soul’s repair
    Ardent and forward to set things right
    Walk back round to find the light

    Stark and full and wrought with toil
    This empty vessel runs to boil
    Frayed and worn of words to sting
    Tomorrow’s newness someday brings

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  • Goodbye Sun

    Goodbye Sun

    Motion blur sunset photo of pastel clouds and calm bay water.
    Goodbye Sun — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/15

    Welcome back to Standard Time!—ugh. If you’ll allow me this moment for an airing of grievances. No fan am I of the cyclical cessation of Daylight Savings Time. Being a veteran on team Not A Morning Person I need to milk as much evening daylight as possible. Were it up to me we’d bask in perpetual latter day light on the forever Daylight Savings side of things—no more of the falling back/springing forward nonsense. I’ll concede the one day we get an extra hour of sleep is nice and all, but really it’s just a cheap marketing gimmick to help us try to feel better about ourselves; and let’s keep it real, when it’s ripped away from us each spring keyboard warriors take to Facebook and decry the personal affront felt by all. And while I’m sure many of you may find appeal in a world of no more time shifts I suspect you may find your allegiances hitched up to the Standard Time bandwagon. That’s OK but I’d like to ask just one thing: is the thought of 4:00 a.m. sunrises in summer really that appealing? No thank you, I will take my 8:00 p.m. summer sunsets year in and year out.

    Quick photo talk time. I hit up Dock Road yesterday afternoon around 5:30—see the sun already sets early enough as it is!—and while it’s no doubt my go-to spot I wound up shooting from a vantage point I’ve yet to use in my half decade of photographing. Down at the far southeast end I posted up at the bulkhead of Stafford Municipal Boat Ramp and shot out over the bay with a southeast orientation. The light was great, and the clouds milling about the horizon were pretty great, too. Ditching the tripod and my usual bracketing I went handheld and executed my little motion blur technique—the one where I intentionally create a blurry, out of focus look on the exposure. Adding a bit of motion that brings a more painterly feel; it pairs nicely here with the otherwise minimalist look of the frame. That’s it for me, enjoy your next few months of 5:00 p.m. darkness.

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  • Keep Swinging

    Keep Swinging

    Fiery sunset photograph backlights park swings.
    Keep Swinging — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/5

    Another exposure from last Saturday’s exemplar sunset. At the time of this shoot the Cleveland Indians and Chicago Cubs were midway through a World Series for the ages. Two legacy ball clubs met in the Fall Classic, each seeking to end championship droughts that run so deep the scorched earth of their past seems to predate the respective clubs storied existence. Cleveland last won it all in 1948, and for the Cubs you have to go all the way back to 1908—you know, before the planet was embroiled in its first world war. Despite both teams fielding plenty of championship caliber ball clubs over subsequent decades neither could ever seem to escape the bowels of their own history—the likes of which makes you take serious the voodoo of a cursed destiny. It’s a nasty business, goats be damned. For a fan of neither team, this made the 2016 matchup all the more special—one of these clubs was going to break the hex and send long entrenched narratives to the editor’s waste bin. I would be entertained without the agony/elation precipice these two passionate fanbases precariously stood upon. As a Yankees fan on firmer ground I was all in for the Cubs, though I would have been equally satisfied had Cleveland claimed the prize.

    And so it went. Cleveland stormed out to a 3–1 series lead, firmly secure in their already established home field advantage. A lights out bullpen spearheaded by Terry Francona’s willingness to deploy the near unhittable Andrew Miller in the fireman role, backed a Herculean effort from Cy Young winner, Corey Kluber. Kluber, more throw back than modern day starter, was more than willing to pitch until his arm fell off this postseason. Shades of CC Sabathia down the stretch for the Brewers in 2008. My hat tips for you, sir. In the end, though, it was the Cubs’ time. Storming back to bring the Series to an elimination game seven, the two teams met for one last trial before fate and in the process produced an all time game seven experience. Despite an inspired Cleveland comeback, and Rajai Davis’ unlikely late game home run heroics, the Cubs were able to make history and set fire to a narrative that has shrouded a great franchise for far too long.

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  • Bayside Burn

    Bayside Burn

    Fiery sunset photograph of explosive cloud color over Barnegat Bay.
    Bayside Burn — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/8

    Saturday night and the sky is all right. This weekend I got back on the photo grind and made off into the night with some kind of sunset. Mother Nature threw me a solid and brought out the big guns along the Surf City bayshore. Roughly a dozen sunset dwellers milling about Sunset Park were treated with one of those long burn smoldering skies that for the better part of a half an hour made the world stand still. Cellphones, mirrorless, and SLR cameras alike were put to good use documenting the light show; a frenzy of Instagram posts and rapid collection of likes ensued. For the few folks that rocked out sans camera, free-wheeling leg pumps on the area swing set made for idyllic, stress free viewing. For the few lovers among us the sky brought hearts to bear, setting to light the purity of their affections.

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  • Play Your Hand

    Play Your Hand

    Motion blur photo of marsh at golden hour.
    Play Your Hand — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/50

    Your eyes do not deceive you. This is a blurry photograph. Its execution by design. Why? you may ask. While the question gets right to the heart of it, my answer makes up with simplicity what it lacks in profundity. Personal style. As simple as I like it. Every now and then when I am out shooting I will take the camera handheld, hold it out in front of my chest at a comfortable arm’s length, and rotate at the hips panning from left to right parallel to the horizon at an even pace. During the rotation I will depress the shutter to create an image that introduces motion blur, intentionally removing sharp focus from the exposure.

    While it’s hard to articulate exactly why I like this atypical landscape I think it comes down to a few attributes. First is movement. Motion blur adds a rotational element giving the viewer a sensation of spin. Look up at the clouds. Do you see the parabolic swoop from left to right that plunges downward toward the horizon at the center of the photo? Good. Notice how its inverse arcs with a rainbow arch at the bottom of the frame? Perfect. If you drew a line vertically in the center of the photo it would appear as though this image is spinning like a top. Reflective of the earth itself spinning about its axis. For me it’s a photographic reminder that we’re all objects set constantly in motion.

    Second is form. When you strip away a photograph from its sharply focused constituent parts you’re left with its raw elements. Its shape. Its essence. With the sharpness gone you don’t have to become bogged down in the details. Instead I invite you to take in the elements of the photograph on a more holistic level. What do you see in this photograph even though you can’t see it well? The clouds? The tide pool? Or is it a pond? Is that marsh? A wheat field? Or something else? How does your mind fill in the details? I suspect our answers may differ as our own preconceived notions will render this image to our own bias. Is that a house to the left on the horizon? A car? Maybe a boat? These questions, are they necessary or are they beside the point? Like this photograph the answer is purposefully blurred.

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  • Fire on the Horizon

    Fire on the Horizon

    Cross processed golden hour photo of clouds, marsh, and reflective water.
    Fire on the Horizon — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/60

    This photograph is raw. Hardly the polished HDR landscape propped up by a firm tripod and bracketed exposures I usually produce. Here things are basic and flawed. As intense golden hour light poured over the Cedar Run Dock Road marsh on Sunday I was having a ball walking around popping off single frame hand shot exposures. It’s liberating to break away from the stationary tripod life sometimes. Pacing the roadside back and forth my eyes settled upon a pool of water wedged between the road’s shoulder and the marsh itself. A few inches of fresh rain left plenty of water throughout the wetlands, and the reflection on the still puddle commanded my attention. From there the process was pretty low-tech—squat low and place the camera about two inches above the water level, roughly a foot away from the edge of the marsh grass and squeeze the shutter. I wanted to capture a blown out sun and lens flare through the grass while capturing clouds in the water’s reflection. I am pleased with the quick execution of an otherwise spontaneous plan.

    This lyrically inspired photo title goes to the excellent reggae band, Stick Figure. “Fire on the Horizon” is track one off their 2015 album, Set in Stone. Kudos to Ben Wurst for cluing me in to this band. Solid grooves, folks. Solid grooves.

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  • Real Feel

    Real Feel

    Blue hour photo of pink and purple clouds over marshland.
    Real Feel — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    I’m not above cliché and could easily drop the ubiquitous Winter is Coming—but I won’t. Instead, and as you might have guessed, I will talk about the cold’s arrival Sunday evening out on Cedar Run Dock Road. A sharp north wind bore down over the open marsh carrying with it a bitter message, howling of our frozen fate to come. Everything about the hour long photo session fast-forwarded the fall to winter progression in the collapsed space of a fading afternoon. From the vision enhancing crystal clear air, to the stoked northerlies painting the unmistakeable blue color that only shows when the temperatures fall. Yes, the cold is coming, but so too is the prospect of the magnificent skies only a winter can bring. Here’s to freezing our butts off in anticipation of the next great season of sunset photography. My memory card is ready, my hands are not.

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