Greg Molyneux Photography

Author: Greg Molyneux

  • Walled Off

    Walled Off

    35mm sepia photograph of an old wooden structure marked by leading lines, knotted wood, and a rusted iron locking loop.
    Walled Off — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/160

    And now for something completely different. I made my way to Batsto Village on Sunday. Autumn peak is still a ways out, but the short jaunt made for a solid photowalk regardless. Temperatures were warm with mostly masked park goers aplenty. It was one of those dress for all seasons kind of days. Toasty in the sun, cool in the shade. As my friends played about with their tiny humans, I meandered listlessly about the old iron works village. Some noticeable changes since my photowalk in 2014, including the loss of some large maple trees. Such is the passage of time.

    I spent ten minutes with my camera making photos of a building I once described as a weird barn-esque pseudo covered bridge type building sided in evenly spaced, repetitive wood slats. The leading lines speak to me. There is an old, weathered door with a rusted iron loop which once made part of a locking mechanism. Above is the photograph, treated in sepia to lend visual to the structure’s age. I’m not certain what to call this kind of photography? Street? Architectural? Nonsense? I suspect this is one of those photos I enjoy but doesn’t land well with the masses. But that’s OK!

    Music and the world lost an icon and virtuoso today. Rest easy, Edward Lodewijk Van Halen. The stardust of the riff master has returned to the universe.

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  • I Knew You When

    I Knew You When

    14mm wide angle HDR photo of Cedar Run Dock Road salt marsh right at sunset. Pink tones kiss a low level cloud deck to color up the sky.
    I Knew You When — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    I knew you when I would smile
    I knew you when the world turned true
    And people could accept one another.

    I knew you when I would see
    I knew you when honor shone through
    And people could trust one another.

    I knew you when I would feel
    I knew you when I reached with soft words to touch you
    And people could share with one another.

    I knew you when I would hope
    I knew you when an open heart taught what to do
    And people could love one another.

    I knew you when I knew me.

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  • Autumn We Dance Again

    Autumn We Dance Again

    14mm wide angle landscape photo made at blue hour. Clear evening blue skies with a subtle pastel horizon reflect over the still water of Stafford Forge Wildlife Management Area.
    Autumn We Dance Again — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    When I was a child I welcomed you. You were the harbinger of winter, my favorite season. The calendars in class marked the days with apples in September, pumpkins in October, and leaves in November. Football and cool weather held sway, while holiday specials with the Peanuts gang enchanted our evening. The days grew short and life stayed simple. It was easy.

    In adolescence I accepted you with the grudging disaffected disinterest of an awkward teen. Everything was weird and new but you were somehow familiar. We tolerated each other, and I still had the coming onset of snow to long for.

    As an adult I bent to your will. Each year you found news ways to deliver familiar tones of sadness. Loss and loneliness proved your calling card, and you seemed to take joy in my pain. Your growing cold and dimming light worked to push me further toward world weariness. Anxieties grew in the dark. Sadness festered in the cold corners of my mind. Emptiness filled my world, and you were always there mocking with a smug impartiality to it all. A season loved by so many kept me stunted and shirked aside. I had not invite to the party. Years turned to decades and I never fit in.

    I have struggled with you for years. So much so it is of no worth to name you fall since the word is far too dire. I know search to flip the script. I Seek to write a new narrative. One of acceptance. One of purposeful restoration. I must learn to slow down and breathe. To be more accepting of your grace. Please take my hand and teach me how to dance, sweet Autumn, I don’t want to hurt anymore.

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  • Dahlia Dreams

    Dahlia Dreams

    100mm macro photograph of a pink dahlia blossom with soft focus and smooth bokeh creating a dreamy look.
    Dahlia Dreams — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/125

    Serving up a soft focus dahlia on a Friday afternoon. Smooth and inviting this flower grows to soothe. When viewed through a macro lens we come close to the tiny tubular petals emblematic of the dahlia. These petals are numerous as they are fascinating. There must be 50 our more making up each full flower. This late season dahlia came to me by way of another splendid Eastlin Floral Design bouquet. As ever, Erin expertly plies her craft.

    I am going to miss photographing flowers. As we pivot to autumn the opportunities grow fewer. As is the way of things. As I reflect back on this years floral work, I am satisfied with some of the photographs I have made. I have said it before and will again, were it not for flower macros I would never have learned to handle myself with a camera. The broad, sweeping landscapes would have never come to be. It is good to stick to roots that bear fruit, and I am happy to stick with my floral friends. Looking forward to honoring you again next year.

    My heart grows a little bit softer remembering the inexplicable tragedy that struck 19 years ago today. May we all find a little more ease in troubled times.

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  • Lilium Inter Spinas

    Lilium Inter Spinas

    100mm macro photograph of an unidentified yellow lily. 6 stamen with prominent anthers circle about the flower in an even pattern, blended by smooth bokeh.
    Lilium Inter Spinas — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/400

    The lily among the thorns. As it is in Latin it is in life. Beauty bounded in time. The glove of power sleeved in subtlety. The self-governed restraint necessary for functioning freedom. Dualities of life shaded in paradox. Polarities bring balance. Gifting equilibrium to produce a harmonious stasis. Yet there is discord. An episodic if unpredictable dissonance that plays in temporary favor to tip the scales. Here there is emotion, often times uncomfortable and burdensome. It is here we are watered. It is here we learn to grow. I caution you yet, resolve not to reduce everything to a binary—it will prove a crutch. For life is seldom so simple.

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  • To Sparkle in Your Eyes

    To Sparkle in Your Eyes

    14mm wide angle photograph of a full sky late summer sunset set up smoldering with intense color over the still green salt marsh.
    To Sparkle in Your Eyes — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Sunset last night did the thing. Mother Nature brought upon us a stunning evening light show. Set ablaze she caught fire to dance about the sky cloud dance floor. Moving and grooving. Glowing and flowing. A panoply of color set a course to smolder pure in a long deep burn. Locked in its gaze I paused to wonder how does such sparkling beauty come to be? Then I remember it is a true gift. And we are best to accept the truest of gifts as the unknowable wonders they are.

    Shout out to Jonathan Carr of Weather NJ. Were it not for his text message, “No joke on this sunset,” some 15 minutes before sundown I would have with certainty remained on the couch. Disabused by what I can only describe as a decidedly mediocre New York Yankees ball club. I had been monitoring sky conditions all afternoon, and was aware of the potential. I simply was not up for it. I haven’t been up for much lately. Unwittingly Jon gave me the arm twist I needed. So all credit to him for this one. Without his interjection this photograph would not exist.

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  • Again?

    Again?

    14mm wide angle photograph of an oxbow feature winding through the salt marsh. A pastel sunset sparkles in the sky, marsh grasses frame the foreground with clouds mirror reflected in the water.
    Again? — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 400 | EXP 1/13

    Is he posting this shot again? Yes. Think it’s time he finds, you know, a different angle at the very least? Also, yes.

    I debated posting this photograph I made back on 25 August. It’s a an angle I have exploited on numerous occasions. And even though no two sunsets are the same, even I am growing worn thin by my lack of originality. (This coming from a notorious creature of habit.) Nevertheless I am rolling with it considering the rut I’m in and the insidious angst I feel. I am going through the motions and so my photos are going through the motions. Something about life imitates art.

    Maybe it’s the comfort in familiarity that keeps me going back? Or maybe that’s little more than a double-edged sword. A safety net keeping me from breaking out and trying new things? Maybe it’s the slow churn of a global pandemic coupled with a deteriorating society fueling the angst? Maybe it’s the barrage of hot takes, baseless claims, and toxic passive aggression permeating social media post after social media post? Or maybe it’s the inevitable advance of fall? Or maybe it’s just me?

    I’ve written before how this time of year weighs heavy on me—even in the best of times. Shortening days, the death of summer, the advance of the great browning. It all sets me on edge. I struggle to find comfort and solace knowing summer now sits an entire calendar year away. I’ve managed the past nine months or so with a one day at a time approach. Avoiding the pitfalls of thinking too much on an unknowable future. I must work to reclaim that mindset, cliché as it may be.

    For anyone else out there struggling, worrying here we go again? Maybe it doesn’t have to be so hard this time? And better yet, maybe we’re far closer to something good than we could ever know? Keep hanging, y’all.

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  • Sunshine in the Dark

    Sunshine in the Dark

    14mm wide angle photograph of a stunning sunset with pastel colored clouds sweeping across the Cedar Run Dock Road salt marsh.
    Sunshine in the Dark — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    I seek to channel the beauty found in sunset. I journey in search of the secret which sends the light of day toward darkness with such a flourish it stops the heart. Your breath escapes. Taken your gaze locks with the sky. She sees you seeing. A pastel wonder strewn across the deepening blue sky. It is with serene tenderness the gossamer glows. A smoldering ember eager to greet the night with sublime splendor. Never the same, always there. Together I seek to channel the beauty found in sunset.

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  • Stop the Clocks

    Stop the Clocks

    14mm wide angle photograph of a salt marsh oxbow feature at blue hour. Mirrored reflection captures the still colored pastel clouds stretched thin across the sky.
    Stop the Clocks — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    The calendar claims today as 23 August 2020. I wish it would stop shouting Summer is OVER. What happened to time? March was about 93 days long, and each month since lasts about a week and a half—tops. Shattered is our perception of time. Easy days whiling about hours once spent on beaches and fields find replacements in anxiety, uncertainty, and fraying society. And it is with speed these insidious malfeasants, uninvited as they are, rob us of our time. Stealing our present and hoarding our future.

    And yet we soldier on and endure. We bide our time, turn to our strengths and cultivate purpose to prepare for the renaissance. Time will call to order again. The arrow of time, never directionless, will reassert its dominion and the universe will unfold as it should. Build trust. Know faith. Foster humility. Learn to grow. Live to love. Make yourself.

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