Greg Molyneux Photography

Category: Blog

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

Liquid Lunch
Liquid Lunch — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1000
I made the most of strong midday sun and an anxious butterfly battling for a sip. While I may have contributed to this silver-spotted skipper’s general unease, to be sure it was a dive bombing carpenter bee who proved the true villain. Selfish to the last this boring bee, not content with undermining wooden structures, also suffers from an insatiable need to dominate the local plant life as well. Unprovoked harassment aside, the skittish butterfly proved tenacious and drank surreptitiously upon a purple coneflower nectar in fits and starts.
As the drama unfold I remained the steadfast dispassionate observer. Channeling my best, albeit deficient, Sir David Attenborough, I permitted nature’s battle unmolested. Instead of meddling in the travails of bugs I sat back with my 100mm macro lens and popped off exposures. I worked close and fast relying on handheld work to make my frames.
Five minutes feel about 20 when you’re front and center with nature. Time dilation further magnifies when viewed in macro. Tunneling focus sets in as your whole world collapses down to lens physics making large of the small. It’s as if descending into an enlarged world of minutia brings with it a slower perception of time, reinforcing its relative nature. It is not without other lessons. The speed of the big world evaporates. The worry over text messages, tweet storms, and emails that need answering two minutes before receipt fades in full. It’s as if nature is trying to tell those who will see what does indeed matter.
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July 25, 2017
There and Back Again
There and Back Again — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
A swollen tide with ease to lend
Face kissed with salt the sweet scent friend.
Your heart beats slow about an oxbow bend
To the place you take there and back again.
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July 21, 2017
In the Flower of My Youth
In the Flower of My Youth — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/320
The flower’s life moves with speed. Governed by uncontrollable forces from dust to dust it will rise, flourish, and whither. Rejoining to the earth bearing the wear of a life well lived. Brief as that life may be. At its height a culmination of beauty, strength, and vigor owns the spotlight magnifying the magnificence of life. Anchored by our frame of reference onlookers glimpse life for what it will be, is, or once was.
Ruminating upon my own flower this reality has come into particular, and ofttimes uncomfortable focus. Viewed against a litany of health problems experienced over the past 13 months I face the age of 35 at month’s end. Throwing into high gear the acuteness of transition from is to what once was. My youth is fallen from me. Torn from my fingers without even a moment to slip. Like all transitions change augurs uncomfortable truths. Yet facing the truth brings the necessary knowledge for the next step—the next triumph. Honor what once was and embrace what wisdom awaits.
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July 14, 2017
See Me
See Me — 100mm | f/2.8 | ISO 400 | EXP 1/1000
I’d be lying if I said the hosta plant was high on my list of favorite flowers before getting behind the lens. In fact, I’d be lying if I said I ever took much note of them at all. Here again photography proves a great teacher, turning attention to where before there was none. More precise, it was this time a year ago I first fixed focus on a hosta with my macro lens. In a frame not dissimilar to what I share today, a hosta bloom unfurls with a kindness into a delicate array of petals bathed in pastel tones. Layers peel away and lend depth to provide a softness and intimacy that passed heretofore unnoticed. Unnoticed at least to my once uncultivated eye.
Hobbies are great. Hobbies that teach us, humble us, surprise us are even better. It’s one thing to find something you’re good at and helps while away the hours. It’s a whole other thing to find something that challenges you in unforeseen ways and breaks the well worn foundations which bind us to our ways.
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July 12, 2017
And in the Evening
And in the Evening — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Today is July 2, 2017, and I’d like to drop a historical nugget. Some eager beavers contented by their cache of fun facts (re: me) will care to remind you today is the actual anniversary of U.S. Independence. On July 2, 1776, the Second Continental Congress brought Richard Henry Lee’s motion to break with Britain to the floor for a vote. After several days of much cajoling, New York’s delegation finally acquiesced to abstain from the vote. This critical concession thus allowed unanimous passage of the resolution. Congress knew nothing less than a unified vote cast all in favor would carry the weight needed to bring the ensuing independence to pass. And so it went with a vote of 12-0 with New York agreeing to abstain.
While we all prepare to celebrate another Fourth of July Weekend, let us not lose sight of the momentous vote that took place on this day in 1776. Under the stewardship of brave men at the behest of their constituents this newborn nation embarked on the most consequential break in history. Thus casting the die for revolution and cradling the birth of a nation. I leave you with the words of John Adams, Massachusetts delegate and committee member for writing our Declaration of Independence:
The Second Day of July 1776, will be the most memorable Epocha, in the History of America.
I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more.
John Adams sure had the right of it—albeit two days early.
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July 2, 2017
Picked by You
Picked by You — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/400
Oh beloved flower macro forever I hold dear. Time and again I’ve written about macro’s special place in my photographic journey. Were it not for my 100mm lens during 2012’s daily photo project I’m most positive I wouldn’t be the landscape photographer you know today. In truth, I wouldn’t be any kind of photographer today.
Specific credit must go to flowers. A legacy of my home’s previous owners—my parents—is an array of perennials the liven up the property from April through October. Cutting my teeth in 2012, flowers, beautiful and without judgment offered an approachable muse for this shy shooter. Allowed to hone my posture, technique, and stillness I took to handheld macro shooting with some dexterity. Learning to depress the shutter between breathes as becoming an able marksman.
From there I built upon composition principles. Applying the rule of thirds, maintaining balance and symmetry in my frames. It was during this nascent stage my eyes opened to the mechanics of bokeh and depth of field. Once oblivious I had no idea lenses produced areas of non-focus in such an appealing manner. Taken by this effect with earnest, I’ve been an advocate of open apertures for my entire body of non landscape work ever since. I even made a connection to my adolescence as a struggling painter. In all my works I tried to paint all aspects of the composition with perfect rigid detail. Had I eased and let non essential portions blur focus I would have brought more attention to the subjects that mattered. This is vital in portraiture or a still life that features a key subject—akin to the flower above. It’s remarkable to learn your lesson over a decade later from little expected places.
To come full circle I made this photograph at my parents’ new house. Ensconced yet again by a rich array of perennials. Here it was a breed of Black-eyed Susans that called to my camera and me. You may recall I published one photograph already from the batch of photographs I made last Sunday. I was glad to dust off my 100mm macro lens to revisit from whence I came.
Editor’s note: Shout-out to everyone on Instagram and Snapchat who came to my aid. You helped me decided between color and black and white for this photograph. This title is a hat-tip to you. More news: I published a column for Breaker Zine’s debut Beta Issue and my article is now online. If you enjoy reading about how I got started with photography be sure to check it out. Thanks!
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July 1, 2017
A Marsh Life
A Marsh Life — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Take a minute. Look upon this photograph. Absorb the green marsh grasses. Feel the blades as they crunch below your feet. Calm yourself as you take note of the sky mirrored below, bending motionless through the sedge as a silken veil masquerading in still water. Now look up to that sky. An explosion of color, texture, power and allure beckons you. A visual display worthy of only the most perfect of sun downs. Mesmerizing cloud shapes are comping coming and going, splayed and stacked to unknowable depth. Finally you find yourself sitting out back of your coastal marsh home. The perfect kind of place that through the travel of years has become an edifice to your very existence. Breathing deep the sweet salt air transposed by the cacophony of colored calm that’s so ensconced your very existent. Fleeting as this minute will be you will take this gift and cherish it as a brief moment in your most perfect existence.
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June 28, 2017
Sunday Alone
Sunday Alone — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/640
Yes this was published on a Monday, but yesterday when I was making what I’m ready to declare my best series of flower photographs in years was in fact a Sunday. I have it on good authority that not only is Sunday is a day that ends in ‘Y,’ it always precedes a Monday. Allegedly. But don’t take it from me and always check your sources.
My title is an exercise in layers. At the surface is a shot out to Trey Ratcliff and the eponymous Lightroom preset, Sunday Alone. Next, and as already worked over in paragraph one, I made this photo on a Sunday. As it so happens on a Sunday I was feeling particularly alone. I assure you the pairing of chosen filter and said mood was one of pure coincidence. The last layer is not without a touch of irony—the Black-eyed Susans pictured here are hardly alone. This is a thriving bloom of eager and lively coneflowers packed together in close quarters. Since Saturday I’ve been in full swoon when I first noticed this rudbeckia variety aside my parents’ walkway. I see you Saturday, coming before Sunday like you’re all that. Alone on a Sunday as I may have been, these flowers are serving up a healthy dose of joy.
I proclaimed at the outset that yesterday, a so-called “Sunday,” was my best flower photo shoot in years. With any luck you’ll feel the same as I am going to be posting at least three more photos—though more are likely. Most will be more compositions of Black-eyed Susans, but there will be at least one hosta macro in here.
Shout out to Sassafras Hill Farm for coming through with the identification on the rudbeckia so praised here.
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June 26, 2017
Roll It Over
Roll It Over — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1250
Monday, June 19, 2017, saw an outbreak of severe thunderstorms fire up across the Mid-Atlantic. Eager as ever to make some photographs, Weather NJ’s, Jonathan Carr and I made way for Surf City Sunset Park. While things looked good at the outset the storms lost steam as they charged their way across New Jersey toward the coast. Sinking air spoiled the party as a once potent line of storms was waylaid right before our eyes. Disappointed but not shocked, this is standard fare for us along the coast. Storm lines have a way of falling apart more often than not.
What was more surprising, especially in the face of such ominous skies, were the bay beach goers keen to keep swimming. Oblivious, one family hopped in the water a mere 20 minutes before would be impact. Another woman arrived about 10 minutes later looking to get in some laps. She at least had the good sense to ask me to holler once the weather took a turn. I don’t exactly scare easy in the face of thunderstorms, but even I would have stayed out of the water with electrified air so close. Alas all is well that ends well, no calamity befell our implacable beach goers. Considering the storms were abating it seemed acceptable, otherwise I would have pressed the issue on account of their safety.
Of course storms fired back up after Jon and I bailed on our shooting attempt. For the next 90 minutes or so our region saw some decent storm action as a line of storms backed in from the ocean. Too bad we were too busy eating chicken at that time. And that’s the way it goes sometimes.
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June 24, 2017