Greg Molyneux Photography

Category: Blog

Greg Molyneux’s latest photographs and words presented in reverse chronological order.

  • Wisteria in Black and White

    Wisteria in Black and White

    Low key abstract photo study of wisteria blossoms in black and white.
    Wisteria in Black and White — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/500

    Those who have been following along for a while may note I don’t go in for straightforward photo titles. A literal labeler I am not. Yet here I am breaking my own rules with a boring name. Sometimes it is what it is; I beg you allow me this exception.

    This photograph has several notable attributes that excite my artistic sensibility. It’s black and white. It presents a strong visual contrast between light and dark. Wisteria blossoms are its primary feature. There is a strong allotment of negative space gives all the elements room to breathe. And finally an abstraction blurs enough of the frame to call the mind to parse out what it thinks it sees.

    I recognize this is a far departure from my colorful landscapes. Sometimes we need to put away the calling cards and dial up our passions even if they are less mainstream. It’s the cryptic and weird that makes me feel more creative. So scratch that artistic itch sometimes and be not concerned with Instagram likes. Portraying less concrete subjects in a presentation falling outside perceived norms is art. Art as an end in and of itself free of any other expectation. So get out there and get weird.

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  • Light Play

    Light Play

    Japanese maple leaves photographed in golden hour light with shallow depth of field producing bokeh.
    Light Play — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/400

    Soft gold lingers. Midas’ hand set gently upon wine dark leaves. A ruddy remnant of the enchanted wood. The familiar maple stands firm. A trusted friend with a gift for listening. Relieved and uplifted at once you sit beneath its boughs. Evening light touches down on tired shoulders, lending patience, love, and support. Through a connection that dives beyond words and conscience thought the maple hears. A knowing companion free from judgement and avarice. Another year older, another year stronger it stands ready to see you higher than ever before. Your friend grows strong beside you. Its sinew working into your bones grafting its fortitude within you.

    You have learnt much from this tree. A guiding hand of steady silence year upon year. An living monument to patience and strength. Shared with each storm and gale, lessons of flexibility and acceptance transfer. The tree knows how to weather the worst. How best to take it head on, branches open, free of tension and fear. Only when the driving winds have passed are you left with a stronger, healthier tree. Forged by nature, shaped and hardened for more. This is the teaching it passes on to you. It is when you gaze upon soft golden light suffusing its ruddy aura you remember.

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  • See You Again

    See You Again

    Pastel sunset photo of salt marsh, sedge, and tide pools.
    See You Again — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Stirrings on the marsh. Signs of life are springing up along Cedar Run Dock Road. Ospreys are back, herons are skulking, and tender sedge is starting to pop through. The great browning has seen its end.

    After a slow start to spring, fresh warmth has made its way to Ocean County, New Jersey, this week. It’s a welcome feeling hitting the marsh in minimal clothing with a warm breeze kissing your face. It’s made all the better when the warm pastels of summertime color the sunset sky.

    My photo output has waned woefully in 2018 and it’s bumming me out. I’m not sure if it’s only a phase or an inauspicious sign of things to come. While I hope I get back on the grind, churning out quality photo content on the regular, there is a growing chorus of doubt in certain corners of my conscious. I can hear the small voice whispering here it is, another hobby ready to drop. We’ll see. Maybe it was just a phase and this is the beginning of a turnaround?

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  • Jane Says

    Jane Says

    Single Jane Magnolia bud photographed in macro at 100mm focal length.
    Jane Says — 10mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/5003.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/500

    I bought my home from my parents in October 2009. Built in 1993, my parents put in much work to cultivate a lovely yard through the years. Cue up yard work montage footage full of old clothes and dated hairstyle. And yes, I bought the house I grew up in. Under my ownership I have made great work undoing their great work. A once proud yard has fallen into disrepair under my watch. Where once there was lush grass there is the lingering remains of fescue. Where plants and flowers once thrived there is the unkempt overgrowth of perennials. All flanked by an uncontrolled spread of weeds. A groundskeeper I am not.

    For whatever reason a shrub that had been for years on the brink, has returned to its former glory. A least in part. A Jane magnolia, photo above, has undergone something of a renaissance in my side yard. It has flowered up better than at any point in the last four years or so. With it injecting a most welcome infusion of purple to the yard. It’s a pleasing contrast to the yellow explosion of otherwise out of control forsythia marking the property’s edge. While the wheels have come off my lawn it’s nice to have some picturesque reminders of better days.

    This lyrically inspired title comes from Jane’s Addiction, “Jane Says,” of course.

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  • Daffodil Will

    Daffodil Will

    Daffodil photos with smooth bokeh and shallow depth of field.
    Daffodil Will — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/8000

    The pivot to spring you ask? More like the rusted cog seized in refusal to spin up spring. Mother Nature, have you no oil can? Have you no mercy? Despite a brief touch of warmth we have been summarily dismissed to low 40s, gloom, and biting winds. Winter in the Mid-Atlantic battles on. Another year, another backloaded winter. It’s a back door cold front the did us in this time. Further freezing seasonal gears in their ruddy place.

    But never doubt the will daffodils. They are rocking in full shine. Sure they made headway two to three weeks later than usual, but in yesterday’s 70s they splayed in full glory. Crocus, hyacinth, and daffodils serve as standard bearers of spring. The first to push through and remind us warmer climes lay in wait.

    It’s with fair certainty I’ve made an iteration of this daffodil photograph since 2012. It’s an exciting reminder that flowers are back and it never gets old. I talk often about revisiting photographs. I maintain it is good practice. No matter how similar, no two photographs are ever the same. So make them over and over again. The world is fluid and the arrow of time forever points forward. We’re always changing, aging, moving. The same is never the same—so capture those moments and lock away the moment. Now if you don’t mind I am off to don my winter coat and gripe more about things I cannot control.

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  • Four Seasons

    Four Seasons

    Tiger lily sprouts surrounded by snow and oak leaves.
    Four Seasons — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/50

    New Jersey is welcoming spring with a fresh coating of snow, sleet, and ice. The weather is suboptimal for anyone other than the most ardent of winter lovers. This simple photograph sums up the disjointed situation best. Winter, spring, summer, and fall in one head scratching tableau. We’ve got tiger lilies pushing up the greenery calling us to spring and summer. An old, spotted oak life carries us back to fall. This all set upon a fresh blanket of snow and ice anchoring us to a wintry fate refusing to ebb. It’s all here, an entire year in a single 35mm camera frame.

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  • Winter Holds

    Winter Holds

    Blue hour over late winter salt marsh and tide pool.
    Winter Holds — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Things were quiet on the salt marsh tonight. A subtle blue hour affair in our slow march toward spring. While the calendar insists spring starts tomorrow, winter has other ideas. And so here I sit griping about three backloaded winters in a row. Backloaded meaning winters that will—not—end.

    March 2018 has been active with coastal storm after coastal storm. Wreaking havoc with rain, snow, sleet, thunder, lightning, flooding, and power outages. Most of which happened at the same time. This spot I made photos tonight has been underwater quite a bit this month. And now here we are, set to welcome spring with a winter storm watch. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Le sigh.

    Now if you’re thinking, wait a minute, Gregory Hypocrite, I thought you loved snow? Well you’re not wrong. But while I love snow I am not its biggest fan once March hits. I am all about furious rates of maximum dendrite growth from December–February. But once March rolls in, with longer days and all its hopes for spring and summer I am ready to move on dot com. Yet again, as it was in 2016 and 2017, it looks like we are going to have to wait. As it is, winter holds.

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  • Soothing Skies

    Soothing Skies

    Sunset over Cedar Run Dock Road salt marsh.
    Soothing Skies — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    We are near on March and this marks only my third sunset photograph of 2018. I could chide myself for slacker ways, but I am taking it easier on myself these days. I am more willing to take things as they come—no need to force issues and ratchet up pressure were there should be none. Thanks to a cooperative sky and my willingness to step away from an A Link to the Past replay I made it to Dock Road in time for sunset action.

    This evening was all about peace and calm. The marsh was sedate. The tide was out. The winds were still, and the air made clean and clear from crisp winter air. The visibility had that extra sharpness that doesn’t come to often. It felt like living in real life HD vision. The recipe made for ideal photo making.

    The heavens brought the finishing touches to a restorative evening. A tack sharp crescent moon cut the sky casting a wry, cheshire smile. Later still Venus took to glowing bright and bold. The evening star lending companionship to the cycling moon waxing through its youth. May these reminders of our small part in a much broader universe never cease carving smiles on my face.

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  • Withering

    Withering

    Withered Japanese maple leaf macro black and white photograph.
    Withering — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 800 | EXP 1/320

    Winter rains descend unceasing. Blanketing the land in fog and gray. Dampness seeps into every corner. An unquenched avarice tasked to steal warmth wherever it may lay. There is no quarter. The wheel of time erodes the land upon its grindstone. Unconcerned with the changes wrought churning out universal meal. Always turning. Destroying. Creating. Transforming. Always turning.

    We grow. We flourish. We wither. We die. We renew. The great circle of all things coiling back upon itself. The world snake consuming its own tail. We are come. We are gone. We are return. And so the long night of winter with slow and ever present speed withers to the brighter light of spring. The rebirth is coming. The resurrection of that which sets withering upon the tree of all life ready to bud.

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