Greg Molyneux Photography

Category: Blog

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

  • Fall Ahead

    Fall Ahead

    Photo of a fiery sunset over marsh and tidal pools.
    Fall Ahead — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Each sky is different. Yet some remain the same. This is the paradox of the light chaser. Last night on Great Bay Boulevard I welcomed fall. Or spun to the proper hierarchy of things, it was fall who welcomed me. I have no power over seasons and remain her humble servant. It is in accordance to such peerage I will observe my station. Putting the power of things aside it was Mother Sky set in the seat of high honor. This fulfills a trend of quality sunsets in and around seasonal shifts. Confirmation bias may be at play but this seems the case over my now six years of shooting.

    As I suggested at the start of this story last night’s sky brought me back to a mid-August evening in 2015. The twin skies bore striking resemblance to each other. To further the symbiosis was the location itself. I was also shooting on Great Bay Boulevard at sunset that night. On both occasions the marsh held sway in comparable colors—green pulling back to brown. The sky cast in a clean, piercing blue gaze. All this was set aglow moments before the sun set low beneath the horizon. In a rare showing, low set clouds lit up brief and bright, breathing fire to a scene of peace.

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  • The Old Wood Span

    The Old Wood Span

    Golden hour photo of a wood bridge spanning a stretch of water.
    The Old Wood Span — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/30

    To the romance of wood. The fuel of the hearth. The bones of the home. The backdrop of the written word. Nailed to the story of man wood’s place in civilization’s ascent is both secure and unsung. Its importance overshadowed by the power of stone, bronze, and iron. Perhaps there being no Wood Age—nor great monuments to its own—lends to its secondary status. Regardless, the power of the trees have freed us from the land and we should not forget.

    While it has not the historical cachet of stone, bronze, or iron, it does invoke the warm feelings of a simpler time. This is where my mind runs when I look upon old, well-fashioned wooden structures. From an early age wood crafts, buildings, bridges, and even roller coasters fired my interest. The fine tuned skill and the care left behind from the souls who put all into their work. Underneath that work is history. Who built this? Where did they master their craft?And with whom? When was it built? How long did it take? And what of the material? Is it oak? Is it ash or pine? Where was it milled? From forest to work site to finished structure is where the grand narrative sits. For while this is the story of but one bridge, it’s the story of the bulwark of our civilization writ large. For ours is a story warmed by it, built upon it, and sheltered underneath it—the shaded age of wood has never ceased to be.

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  • Yellow Kiss

    Yellow Kiss

    Pastel sunset photo over Great Bay Boulevard Wildlife Management Area's yellowing marsh.
    Yellow Kiss — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    See the yellow kiss the marsh and pass the green of yesterday to memory. Seasons move and the lands do follow. Before the clocks of innovation the environment held sway. Celestial movement speaking the story of time through a perceptible and changing land. A change so clear to our ancient ancestors now seen so quaint in the eyes of our mankind machine. Our marriage to tools works to our freedom and subjugation. It’s the great paradox of humanity’s rise. The more we conquer the less we control. Masters of our own machinations mastered by the machinations that drive us. As with Alexander—we may steam role ever eastward writing histories and song to our exploits. Yet we leave little record to rule the glory left behind.

    Then you look upon the marsh, untouched by man and kissed by light, and you reclaim the past. You watch the sun set and you perceive the world as our most ancient ancestors observed it. You see a changing place left only to the plotting of nature and time. A land left to evolve unadulterated as seasons come and go. No clock ticks to instruct us of this time. It is the hands of nature stretching out with an ephemeral grace to caress the green and kiss with yellow. For it is here we need no more than our eyes to tell of time—of life moving on.

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  • Summer Turn

    Summer Turn

    Sunset photo over late summer Dock Road salt marsh.
    Summer Turn — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Summer rode hard and fast. It was seldom visible. A blink or two and you missed it. August heeds the call to yield to September and the mercy of our fate turns toward fall. Year over year the pages of life’s daily calendar flip with increasing speed. Sure the pages tear easier yet its harder and harder to discard the time. Time we will never see again. It’s on this I reflect.

    Every summer starts with grand designs. I’m going to carve more time for me. Get out on the water. Enjoy the beach. Clean up the house. Cultivate to the garden. Tend to my photography. Take some time off. Grand plans devolve to monotony and old habits. Work. Weekend obligations. Growing to-do list of chores. Traffic. Would be photographs going unmade. The annual dereliction of me—with plenty of sunshine to illuminate the fact.

    Life stands now in opposition to the carefree childhood. A boyhood I cherish dear. Days never saw an end. Responsibilities were non-existent. It was a kaleidoscope of good friends, bike rides, swimming pools, rough-housing and sports. Throw in a vacation with the grandparents and plenty of backyard barbecues, too. For about a half-hour each evening the ice cream man owned the neighborhood. Long shadows doubled our party and seemed to linger with us for what felt like hours. With the flicker of lightning bugs came the close of the day. At the last the stars shone bright and sleep was the surest mechanism to bring about tomorrow. The morning would strike clean and bright and a quorum of friends would reunite. It was glorious.

    The juxtaposition to 30-something missing all those things is stark. Yet as I said earlier it’s all time we are never to see again. So instead I am trying a new plan. I will go easier on myself. There is no reason to harp on past glory reminiscent of a Mark Twain yarn. Instead, I will let go of what I didn’t do this summer and focus on what comes next. For what comes next is the only sure thing we can change.

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  • Drop in a Scene

    Drop in a Scene

    Golden hour landscape photo over creek and wooden bridge.
    Drop in a Scene — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/25

    I invite you to journey with me. But first you much breathe. Close your eyes and breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Slow your mind and follow your breath. In. Out. Deep breaths at first. Three or four long inhalations followed by slow and steady exhalation. Focusing on the breath. In. Out. Forget about the world. Repeat. Now let your breath find its way back to its natural rhythm. Let the calm wash over you. In. Out. All in its own time. Ah yes, now you are ready to go.

    Now open your mind and drift. Drift as the dancing leaf carried on an inspired breeze, unencumbered—free. Slow and calm you descend. In. Out. With your mind settled to a natural focus you transport to a sense of place. A place of warmth—of hope and possibility. A place of sprawling green, flowing water, and the sweet kiss of waning summer sun. A scene to soothe the soul. Stay in that place, bathed in golden tones, ever safe and bright. Stop the time and breath. Uplifted and free. In. Out.

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  • Roommates

    Roommates

    Black and white photo of a Maine Coon cat.
    Roommates — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 800 | EXP 1/125

    I present my new partner in crime. Daisy “Chain” Cat. She’s a Maine Coon cat loaded down with fluff and stuff enveloping a pronounced air of dignity. When she’s not traipsing to and fro from food bowl to litter box she’s setting up shop on a comfy bit of furniture near you.

    Daisy is my first pet. The first I can call my own. I grew up with cats and dogs—dogs mostly—but I never had one under my own care. Since my grandmother moved out of my house I have been living along full time since the summer of 2011. Guys, let me tell you, the years of talking to myself has grown stale.

    Enter Daisy, my co-conspirator in indolence and shag floor lounging. She likes to hang and laughs at my poor jokes—OK, she doesn’t laugh so much as offer disgusted blank stares. This black and white photo doesn’t serve justice to her robust mane of hair. And it’s not reserved to her mane, she’s loaded with hair—everywhere.

    Daisy comes to me as a middle-aged dowager feline. Rounding out her back nine I have welcomed her into my home. I will do my best to offer a relaxing, if not glorious retirement. She gets the peace and quiet—dumb jokes aside—she has long sought, and I get a buddy to disrupt my decade of solitude. As an added bonus I now have a ready-made photo subject. Though she has yet proved disposed to the task.

  • Generations Duet

    Generations Duet

    Guitarist Sahara Moon and harmonica player Gordon Woolley play a duet.
    Generations Duet — 100mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/160

    Last Saturday I took part in Fun(d) the Foundation. For the second year running and with Weather NJ playing host, volunteers cobbled together a fundraising soirée. The proceeds will benefit Long Beach Island Foundation of the Arts and Sciences. The evening featured a curated buffet of local fare provided by several local eateries. It was a robust spread anchored by scallops fresh off the boat. (Shout-out to Dan Molyneux for the killer recipe.) Many thanks to all who donated sponsorship, art, food, time, and patronage. The evening would not have happened without your support.

    Once I was able to break away from the grill I manned my station as photographer. A rather poor performance on my part left me flustered at the grill plates for the better half of the evening. If you loathed the chicken satay you have me to thank. Eager to move on dot org from my cooking failure I was glad to take up the camera. Even though I am lost when photographing people.

    By this point everyone was well sated and back to imbibing spirited beverages. The audience fell quiet before the young and talented Sahara Moon. This singer-songwriter of a most excellent folksy bent has carved out a well deserved reputation. Sahara Moon is ours, south Jersey, and we are all the better for it. She took to the stage and plucked skillful covers and soulful originals, crooning the night away. It set an ideal stage to a subdued and classy evening.

    As the night drew to a close and Sahara was about to set down her Martin Guitar, Gordon Woolley shocked us all. With superb showmanship he bound to the stage and thus produced a harmonica from his pocket. With perfect timing, two strangers book ending two generations worked a sublime duet. The only thing that called into question the spontaneity of the moment was how well the two performers merged. It was as though they had rehearsed this little number several times beforehand. Swept away, the crowd swooned. It was the perfect finish to a wonderful night—all grills aside.

  • Eclipse

    Eclipse

    Black-eyed Susan macro photo top down perspective.
    Eclipse — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 400 | EXP 1/200

    A solar eclipse is coming. You know this. On August 21, 2017, cutting a 70 mile wide swath that will stretch from Oregon to South Carolina our Sun will bow before the Moon. For those along its path totality will last less than three minutes. In less than a blink in the cosmic eye observers will see existence as never before; eyes wide, forever changed. The universe and their sense of place therein forever altered, perspective transcended.

    Reflecting on this heavenly vision wonders sketch upon the corners of my mind. What a remarkable coincidence we humans care to observe. That in a moment our lone satellite orbits at perfect proportion. Passing through a gravitational sweet spot. An exacting position poised to blot our mother star with mathematical precision. A coincidence made more profound considering the Moon’s drift from Earth since its violent inception. Through the eons the Moon has been on a path outwards; as though adding length to the spinning lasso the mechanics of gravity are at work. We stand at right place at the right time to observe a perfect distance to size ratio rendering Sun and Moon as though identical in size. The incomprehensible unlikely hood that we are in the here and now, sentient and able to process is astounding.

    I carry this reflection further by drifting back deeper into the past. My thought experiment settles on the effect this must have had on our species sans scientific enlightenment. This supernatural feat could only have been the work of the heavens. Powerful gods. Deities exerting their will to bring night where there was once day. Like the arrival of a comet observers must have cowered before ominous portents. As best they could the wise would convey esoteric messages upon their people to explain away the signs. Yet in our darkest periods there may not have been systems for any such explanation. At some point before oral histories passed this would pass as unique and terrifying event. What a time to be alive that we can observe this event and appreciate its machinations as they are. With humble understanding we are but a spec standing on a precipice of unbelievable timing and circumstance. Yet as it was in our more primitive past there remains so much we do not know. And so the eternal journey of waking continues.

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  • The Small Blue

    The Small Blue

    Macro photo of eastern tailed blue butterfly atop purple coneflower.
    The Small Blue — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/500

    Editor’s note: [July 29, 2017] This is not a small blue butterfly. It is an eastern tailed blue butterfly. It’s the small thin tail that earns this distinction. Shout-out to Dave Blinder who coincidentally posted a shot of an eastern tailed blue on his Instagram today thus unveiling my error. It’s always good to learn something new. I’m keeping the title as is—it’s still a blue butterfly small in size.

    A favorite bug friend came to feast upon a favorite flower. Macro serendipity multiplied. It’s been years since I’ve photographed a small blue butterfly. (Note: This is not a small blue) So you can imagine my happiness when I spied it doing its nectar thing atop a purple coneflower.

    Outside with my gear I got to work making photos. Pleased the dive bombing carpenter bee that was harassing the silver-spotted skipper earlier had left its post, the little small blue eastern tailed blue was able to feast unmolested. While small this little fella packed plenty of courage. He paid me no mind as it drank about the coneflower, dexterously darting its tongue amid the orange spires. With notable discipline the small blue eastern tailed blue worked clockwise about the coneflower stamen at a steady pace. The predictable clockwork fashion aided my shooting. I was able to get close and anticipate its maneuvering with ease.

    From here I worked the full midday sun into advantage. It afforded fast shutter speeds to aid handheld sharpness. More beneficial, it infused the exposure with strong contrast. This creates the deep blue-black behind the small blue and amplifies the dramatic streak of highlight running atop the edge of its wings. Lending a theater quality that might shine upon the actor during her soliloquy. The small blue eastern tailed blue muse was not lost on me.

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