Greg Molyneux Photography

Author: Greg Molyneux

  • Holgate Time

    Holgate Time

    Landscape photograph of Holgate, NJ, beaches under a pastel winter sunset
    Holgate Time — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Holgate, New Jersey. Long Beach Island’s southern most tip makes for some high drama in the dead of winter. Considering its south-by-southwest orientation it aligns splendidly for the southwest sunsets that render over the winter months; giving photographers options to shoot toward the southwest, or to maintain a southeastern angle to work the shore break into the frame. (As I did in the photo above.) I can’t act like Holgate was my idea. All hats be tipped—real or imagined—go to Jeff Ruemeli who called me a little after 2:00 p.m. to let me know he had it on good authority that winter storm Jonas wreaked some havoc down there, and he had heard other photographer’s lauding its praises.

    While I did Instagram a cellphone photograph of one of the uncovered jetties, I went with a more conventional exposure for my main image. The undulating sand was impossible to ignore, and after a brief warm up in the car, I set to working out how best to convey the pattern. Admittedly I struggled determining the optimal height to expose the photo. I wanted to get close enough to draw the eye to the reticulated sand, but still wanted to ensure the shore break was discernible across the center of the image.

    I went back and forth between posting this or a vertical orientation exposure that I made handheld from a single frame. While I compositionally prefer the other shot, because it was handheld at a somewhat sluggish 1/6 of a second shutter it just wasn’t quite as sharp as it needed to be. Certainly not sharp enough to render cleanly at a large enough size. Imperfections aside I still may post it here tomorrow as the leading lines of the photo are a real standout. We’ll see.

    Big time shout out to the kite surfer battling the elements and working the shore break big time. He owned that steady wind out of the south-southeast, and was riding with noteworthy balance and endurance. He went non-stop for what must have been an hour, seldom if ever coming off his board. Yeah, and it wasn’t exactly warm out there, either. Cheers, buddy.

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  • Fired and Frozen

    Fired and Frozen

    Vertical orientation photograph of an explosive sunset over frozen marsh and phragmites
    Fired and Frozen — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    I avoid vertical orientation photography, and I’m doing myself a disservice. Despite its obvious place and application in landscape photography I remain reluctant to exploit it. Unpacking my reasoning and there’s a few things at play here: 1) I dropped my camera pretty early on and its gyroscope—and thereby level—is useless, rendering level horizons a bit harder to dial in when the camera is upright; 2) my website homepage renders all images in a traditional 3:2 crop ratio (standard crop you’d get from any 35mm film camera); 3) when viewing a single post page—such as this one—from a desktop the left-justification of the photo is a little bit wonky; and 4) I’m just not comfortable making them. To confuse things further, I prefer to shoot vertically from my mobile device as opposed to landscape. Without contradictions, I am not. It was actually a photograph I shared to Instagram last night that led me to go back and process my DSLR version of Sunday night’s sunset this evening.

    Yet as I walk through the reasons cited above one thing becomes immediately clear—only one of those reasons has anything to do with photography. While all four in some degree or another shed light on the pitfalls of perfectionism, two of those reasons are remnants of my past life as a web designer. To be fair it’s not entirely a past life as I do have this place to still dabble in the front end web world, if only a little. In the immediate future, however? I will make it a point to shoot vertical more often. Not only is it the lone path to improvement, it’s a key piece to the landscape photographers repertoire. I can no longer choose to sit out. In the meantime my buddy Ben excels at the technique and took a mean shot this morning. That coupled with my Instagram shot sort of set this line of thinking in motion. He also shows off several exemplar vertical images on his 2015 best of post.

    In order to scratch the perfectionist itch maybe I’ll carve out some time to address my web layout issues with vertical photos. Maybe.

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  • A Bridge Too Far

    A Bridge Too Far

    Sunset photograph taken atop a bridge overlooking a frozen marsh a day after Winter Storm Jonas
    A Bridge Too Far — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    There would be weather they said. Follow the global models they said. Disregard the NAM they said. The heaviest bands will never push north they said. Well here we are one day after the Blizzard of 2016, and I’m sure many a backs are barking from a long day of digging out after wondering, dude, where’s my car? This was one for the record books, folks, and even though the biggest snows happened just a few miles to my north and to my west, the coast sure saw a battering at the hands of a fired up Atlantic Ocean. After spending the better of the weekend weathering the storm with friends, fretting over rain/snow lines only to later find myself and swan diving into snow after the changeover, my buddy and I finally made it out for some real deal photo making this evening.

    After much hemming and hawing over where to shoot, most of which happened during a pitiful attempt to clear out my driveway, an unsolicited query from family friends on Dock Road asking my Mother if I was out shooting said road solidified the final destination. Understanding the marsh isthmus no doubt took a serious tidal beating, we didn’t exactly know what we were in for at the Road of Dock.

    The scene upon arrival was otherworldly. Elevated sea levels and ice flows littering the marsh dominated the landscape. While the tide was mostly down at this point, its frozen remnants were not hard to parse out. The vestiges of a foul tempered nor’easter were visible horizon to horizon, and before long the power of the wind was clearly on display. No less than four telephone poles were down, with power lines sidewinding the single road for what must have been a mile. Yes the scene was surreal but that was quickly supplanted with the sobering reality that real humans live amidst this battered place of wonderment, and here they are tasked with wintering it out sans power in the wake of a powerful winter storm—one that will most certainly be regaled as historic in the pantheon of east coast storms.

    While my picture making was at a minimum this weekend, yet this photograph marks my first documentation of New Jersey in a post Winter Storm Jonas world. Here’s hoping you fared as well as possible during this powerful weather system, and were able to make the most of your time indoors. Cheers.

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  • Perhaps this is Goodbye?

    Perhaps this is Goodbye?

    Sunset photograph of frozen bay ice locking in marina posts
    Perhaps this is Goodbye? — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Be it superstition, confirmation bias, or an actual demonstrable trend to which I have neither the data nor scientific awareness to prove, pre-storm sunset skies always seem to deliver. Today sure fit the narrative. Anticipating winter storm Jonas’ arrival has ground my personal perception of time to a relative halt. Since Monday night the hours, such as they are, have ticked by like days as I click weary-eyed from one model run to another, waiting interminably on weather to arrive. Yet no matter what the models show me, and despite the Blizzard Watch we’re sitting under currently, the pangs of last year’s bust at the hands of Juno gnaw away at my insides. I just want the snow to get here, stay here, and with any, luck bring little to no rain to southeastern New Jersey. Of course that toasty Atlantic Ocean looms large, ready to push warm maritime air onto our shores if the center of low pressure creeps close enough.

    But let’s push my selfishness aside for a second, coastal flooding and beach erosion is the real concern here. But as the far less sexy story overshadowed by the high probability of widespread 12″ snow across much of the Mid-Atlantic, the tidal implications of a roiling ocean have been lost in the shuffle. We’re looking at an extended storm with a duration over 24 hours complete with a broad wind field of tightly packed isobars slinging wind gusts of around 60mph onto New Jersey shores. It’s subsequent storm surge will be aided by an ill-timed Full Moon giving an unneeded boost to already moderate to major tide heights. At least three high tides will be affected from Saturday morning through Sunday evening.

    It is with this reality I title my post. Understanding the marina is now state owned and seemingly set to restore to its natural state, there’s a good change this little cove will look quite different as soon as Monday. These derelict posts of wood that once gave aid to docks and quays may soon be little more than a memory. This is why in considering where on Great Bay Boulevard to photograph today I recalled the wise words of Ben Wurst, instructing me to shoot here as often as possible fore it may soon be gone.

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  • Cold Milestone

    Cold Milestone

    Landscape photograph of a snowy mid-Atlantic salt marsh at sunset
    Cold Milestone — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Anyone in the mid-Atlantic who even bothered to step foot outside today will find no shocking revelation in my declaration of today’s cold. Sure it was below freezing all day, but holy cow did the biting cold and piercing winds level up out on the marsh of Cedar Run Dock Road. The wind ripping across a rapidly freezing marsh plane was eye watering and hand destroying. Not even some impromptu jumping jacks were making a difference. It was no fun touching the cold metal of my tripod, clumsily thumbing the extension latches to unfurl the legs. But these are of course the chilled hazards of the job.

    In hindsight extending the tripod legs wasn’t even necessary. This evening turned into one of those shoots where I wound up going with my very first set of brackets. This exposure was made with the camera and tripod low to the ground; tucked into the frozen marsh grass to draw the viewer into the scene. A big part of why I’m posting this shot is because it’s the only set of brackets that still had enough sunlight to catch the pink glow painting the frozen edge of the marsh grass. Thus bringing visual warmth to a scene that was otherwise and quite literally devoid of it. Those sunbeams didn’t hurt, either.

    Celebrating Two Years

    Fun bit of housekeeping: this here website is celebrating its second birthday today. Since I first uploaded Beyond the Gray Sky two years ago I’ve added 240 photographs good for 232 posts. I’m beyond pleased with my small little home on the internet, and I hope you’ve enjoyed my modest contribution to what I hope is solid internet content. Here’s looking forward to a promising third year. Thank you.

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  • Weather Ahead

    Weather Ahead

    Monochrome photograph of light snow covered pygmy pines of the New Jersey Pinelands
    Weather Ahead — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/50

    Let’s talk about the weather, Mid-Atlantic. In case you hadn’t heard there’s a potential snow storm looming, turning its tentative gaze toward the weekend. But first, proceed with caution. It’s been a tough winter for snow lovers, and we would do well to consider the unreliable performance of operational models of late. Despite a conducive pattern for coastal storm development we’ve seen one promising event after another appear, disappear, only to reemerge late in the game sending cutter after cutter into the Great Lakes. Whereas today we saw a storm widely thought to be out to sea, hang close enough to the coast to bring a mostly unexpected 1–3″ of snow to southeastern New Jersey—with an even bigger hit along the Delmarva. Were it not for marginal temperatures just above freezing this would have been a major bust. Suffice to say, faith in the models has been tested, and we should all feel justified in our skepticism. Of course there’s a lesson in here: despite improving datasets, more powerful processing, and better defined atmospheric dynamics there’s still plenty to get wrong in forecasting. We’re still a ways from perfect and that’s perfectly okay.

    Tempered emotions aside, it’s tough not to get a least a wee bit excited for this weekend. Some factors driving our optimism? Consistent plotting of the storm on the major weather models for at least the past 48–72 hours; we’re now progressing well into mid-range forecasting (less than 120 hours out); and most importantly, the pattern at 500mb looks favorable. Tonight’s 00z runs will be huge, and weenies (a term for weather enthusiasts like me who know just enough about weather to be dangerous) will be staying up late on this Martin Luther King, Jr. weekend waiting for the Euro. While it’ll be fun to get caught up in the excitement, we should at least wait until Tuesday when this storm is properly sampled. Said sampling allows real data to be input into the model algorithms, ensuring much greater accuracy as the models will be relying on fewer unknowns/hypotheticals. By then if the trends still look good it’ll be game on and milk and bread memes will be in full effect. In the meantime, stay tuned to Weather NJ for the latest.

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  • These Are Your First Steps

    These Are Your First Steps

    Blue hour photograph of an exposed manmade jetty in Barnegat Bay
    These Are Your First Steps — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Made my way into Barnegat this evening. Deep into Jonathan Carr territory to meet up and shoot a sunset. Arriving late and short on time, I was sweating it from intersection to intersection impatiently watching pastel pink clouds glow to the north and east knowing this color only had minutes of life. On arrival I found Jon set up pointed west, buried in a patch of phragmites. With nods of acknowledgment I quickly parted ways to check the bayside and noticed a perfect foreground element exposed in the dead calm low tide of Barnegat Bay—a jetty of sorts just waiting to be framed. Combine this with a pink-purple cast to the sky as blue hour hour is setting in and you start feeling pretty damn good about yourself.

    From here I set to work on dialing in the composition. The calmness and cool color tones were evoking a mood of serenity and space. I wanted to key on this and maintain as much negative space as possible; leaving the viewer room to breathe to take in the sights, imagine the sounds, and feel the openness of the setting. This photograph wasn’t going to be about vibrant colors, dramatic cloud shapes, or intricate details fulling up a composition. Instead it was going to be about space, softness, and simplicity. I’m pleased with the outcome.

    It’s only January, but I wouldn’t be surprised if this winds up on my list of 2016’s best. This was one of those shoots where you just know while you’re out there that you’re capturing something good and making it your own. You know there’s that little something extra that makes it stand above most of your other shoots. It’s all part of the reward and fun of this great hobby. Timing wise this worked out, this was a brand new spot for me and it sure did deliver. As for the title? Yeah it’s a Star Wars reference.

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  • For Colton

    For Colton

    Landscape photograph of a line of cumulus clouds richly lit at sunset
    For Colton — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    This evening my cousin and his wonderful wife welcomed their first child to the world. A happy, healthy boy named Colton. He’s only been around for a few hours now and he’s already proudly sporting a foreboding Molyneux head. Suffice it to say today was a good day. Knowing the labor battle began early this morning odds were good the latest addition to our family would make its arrival today. I use its only because until the time of birth we were all in the dark on the sex—though my gut was telling me it was a boy the whole time. The gift of hindsight now makes my prognostication air tight.

    With good karma filling the air and frontal boundaries driving the air, I had a strong sense the universe was on my side for producing an all out drama light show. The universe for its part delivered. We had rain showers develop overhead. We had complex cumulus cloud structures turning and tearing as the first front moved through. We even had rainbows. The sky was a fast paced play, with Cedar Run Dock Road its stage, and Jon Carr and I its captive audience. I kept remarking to Jon over and over that tonight was about as good a period of 60 minutes of light play that I could remember. With no exaggeration there were great exposures to be made in any and all directions. Conditions were that good. As far as I’m concerned this was all Colton—Molyneuxs know how to make an entrance—and Colton arrived about an hour or so after I exposed this photograph. This was how you finish what started off as a dark, rainy January day.

    Welcome, cousin. I cannot wait to meet you and watch you grow. Love you, buddy. To Tiffany and Daniel: congratulations, you guys. You’re going to be tremendous parents. Today was a good day.

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  • Kylo Ren and The Dark Side of the Force

    Kylo Ren and The Dark Side of the Force

    Kylo Ren Christmas tree ornament photographed as a low key miniature replica
    Kylo Ren and The Dark Side of the Force — 100mm | f/4 | ISO 100 | EXP 8 sec

    The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural.

    —Supreme Chancellor Palpatine

    What’s happening, Star Wars fans? For those of you yet to see The Force Awakens I promise this is a spoiler free post.

    Making this miniature photograph was a blast! But first let’s circle back to Christmas. I received a Kylo Ren Christmas tree ornament—excellent—and almost immediately had the idea to utilize my macro lens and tripod in combination with a dark room and a red candle; setting the stage for a miniature portraiture shoot with little Kylo Ren. It was my hope to execute a dramatic, lifelike photograph of the next generation of dark side wielders. Discounting the lightsaber, which still rendered several notches better than I expected, the finished product far exceeded my expectations in terms of this picture looking like there’s a real human in there, full of conflict. The eyes behind the mask are piercing right through you, calling you to the dark side, making you see eyes where there most certainly are none.

    Initially I assumed I’d go for low key black and white processing, but as I first saw the exposures loading into Lightroom it was clear I should play off the warm and brooding color cast from the flame of an off screen candle. The light not only creates the right mood through shadow play, it also infuses just enough red into the lightsaber to keep things realistic enough. On the ornament itself the saber is quite dark, it was a pleasant surprise to see the candle charge it up quite powerfully. I’m sure someone worth their Photoshop salt could create effects that bring Kylo Ren’s kyber crystal to its full cinematic glory.

    All told I managed to end up with a few Kylo keepers. They may make an appearance later down the line on this website, especially one of the extreme close-ups. But if not I can say this: I’m left excited and challenged by shooting macro miniatures. It’s a technique I’d like to experiment with more. Long term it’d be pretty wild to put together whole miniature diorama concepts. Who knows? While I haven’t seen it yet, it’s fair to say I’ve been quite obsessed with the film techniques used in Anomalisa. With any luck you’ve enjoyed this half as much as I did. Cheers!

    Oh, and while I’m at it I think I’ll be going to see The Force Awakens again tonight. You know, for inspiration. Cheers!