Moments after a snow squall moved through that wrought dramatic clouds cast in a pink orange glow, the color palette transformed almost instantaneously as a soothing sunset appeared wedged between storm cells. A five minute respite in an otherwise turbulent Friday afternoon. It was all a weather/photo geek could take. Now I’m not one to normally use parking lots as a primary feature of my landscape compositions, yet for a while now the sandy lot of what was once Rand’s Marina has caught my eye. Its pockmarked puddles with their dark pools and alluring reflections performing sublime feats with the light that dance upon their sheen have long begged for my attention. As it was I laid out a foreground and as the sun broke free just atop the horizon I was ready, camera in hand.
Cracked and Cruel — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/160
Poring over Lightroom this morning with a fresh set of eyes it seems a solid chance I will publish upward of four photographs from yesterday’s Great Bay Boulevardgolden hour shoot. While the initial shot I posted happened right in the thick of ever changing weather, I thought it best to post the remainder of the set in sequential order. This shot shares the added benefit of having similar light to yesterday’s; the others will not share such hues. Without further ado let’s talk about chronological photo number one.
Here I present a serendipitous exposure—a bank error in my favor, if you will. I forgot I had autofocus selected on my 14mm lens, a remnant from a photograph made on my last shoot. Considering it had been a couple weeks I was ripe for oversight. Remember kids, always check your gear! What could have been a costly error wound up producing an unexpectedly suitable outcome. While the focus ring had an automated mind of its own, it brought sharp focus to the center of the frame—keying on the skeletal remains of what I can only assume were once vivacious mussels—vivacious as far as bivalve mollusks go, anyway. From this unintended area of focus the sharpness decreases as it moves out throughout the rest of the frame, becoming increasingly soft at the edges adding to the sense of ruin.
Now, if you’re asking yourself how would have I made the shot had I been paying attention and took back control of my focus? Well, I would have gone with my standard play of hyperfocal distance, leaving the focus ring set a hair left of the infinite line. This would have rendered an even sharpness throughout the whole frame. In this case I think the accident is better. Camera’s computing power: 1, Greg Molyneux: 0.
Finally, a design choice I consciously made with this image came in post-processing. I’m talking about the crop. The long spanning boardwalk in the foreground had me thinking go aggressive from the get-go. With that I cropped into a very wide 3:1 ratio—my second such photo using said ratio. This brings the poor mussels situation front and center, greeting the viewer with the immediacy of the scene. This exposure was made only about an inch above the boards and this drives home the intimacy.
Strange weather has brought itself to New Jersey. In typical Mid-Atlantic March fashion we’ve seen all four seasons this month and we’ve yet to cross the Ides of March. Yesterday we saw temps approach 70 while today much of the state was greeted with slippery roads and heavy wet snowfall. Once this morning’s system moved through some snow squalls began to fire across the region—even with reports of thunders snow in Pennsylvania! You may be looking at the photograph above thinking huh, that sure looks like a thunderstorm and you wouldn’t be far off base. Snow squalls, unlike most other types of winter events, are caused from instability in the atmosphere—the same kind of dynamics that drive thunderstorms in spring and summer—unstable air with plenty of room for atmospheric lifting and you’ve got the same kind of setup, only here you’re greeted with a brief period of heavy snow.
In between about four rounds of intense snowfall over a 60 minute span, I was able to hop out of the car and make some photographs of what was a full stop dynamic sky. It’s no exaggeration to say every five minutes rendered an entirely different palette of clouds, color, and light. It was something to behold, albeit intense and cold. Considering the speed with which I needed to move around the old marina, I ditched the tripod and went exclusively handheld today. You’ll note the ISO 400 with this photograph as I needed to speed up my shutter to get to an exposure of 1/60 so as not to risk blurring the photograph with unsteady hands. I switched between my phone when the snow was heaviest, and my main camera when the precipitation stopped and the light came out to play. I’ll be posting a few more shots from this evening over the next few days, but I figured it best to get things started with the heavy hitter from a dramatic light perspective.
It’s a quarter to eight on March 2, 2017, and I am whiling away the hours until Nintendo unleashes its latest bundle of joy upon the world. As midnight strikes across timezones the world over the Nintendo Switch, and, more importantly, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild will begin its quest into consumer homes and into the hands of joyous gamers. Hyrule needs saving, yo—again. My pre-orders are set to arrive sometime tomorrow and I—AM—PUMPED. I’m a lifelong Nintendo fan(boy) and Zelda is franchise number one in my little corner of the universe. I haven’t been this excited about a Zelda release since sixteen year-old me got his covetous mitts on Ocarina of Time’s golden cartridge. Those were simpler times. Before the dark times. Before the Empire—whoa, wrong beloved franchise. To further muddy the waters of fantasy confusion I am listening to the complete Lord of the Rings soundtrack as we type. Hyrules, long ago distant galaxies mentioned only in blue font trailing off to an ellipsis with one period too many, and middle earths are colliding. And what the hell, I’m wrapping up A Dance with Dragons now, too.
Anyway, throwback Thursday-ing it to a couple weeks ago when controlled burns were popping up all over Ocean County, I had another photograph that I wanted to share. A different kind of photograph featuring a different kind of composition from my usual. Many photographers readily avail themselves of trees to quite literally frame their composition, yet it hasn’t been a technique I’ve tried. Sure, I can remember being a kiddo doing pencil drawings and I would most always have half a tree posted up on either the far left or right edge of the paper. For whatever reason this hasn’t translated into my photography. I made this shot handheld as I was bouncing around Stafford Forge trying to settle upon a final, tripod worthy composition. Yet I find a lot to like in this image. The color and oh that orange glow, the grasses marking the foreground, the blown out sunset to the left, and yes, even the tree framing things up along the right and top of the photograph. But enough about me, what do you think? Oh, and seriously, check out these Zelda reviews.
After making Friday’s sunsetphotograph I turned my attention to the waterfront and decided to do things a little different. While I kept with my 14mm lens, I did switch from manual focus to autofocus and stopped up from f/8 to f/2.8—the latter being wide open on my wide angle lens. From here I opted to mess with some selective focus on a footprint marked upon the sand. I thought it might make an interesting foreground prop were I to get close enough. From a distance of roughly three inches I engaged back button focus on my camera and let technology take over the focus ring. Once it found its mark giving a reassuring beep of approval, I depressed my shutter and exhaled. Instead of rendering a tack sharp image from edge to edge of the frame, as is my usual execution when shooting wide angle landscapes, here the background is able to fade away keeping the attention on the dollop of tread upon sand. It’s easy to get stuck in our routines, executing the same process over and over, so it’s liberating to cut loose and throw a changeup every now and then. It is spring training time, after all. Baseball is back, baby!
This shoot wasn’t all sunshine and roses, however. When doing my thing in Lightroom I waffled on whether or not to go with a 3:2 ratio—what you see here—versus a 2:1 crop. I liked them both for somewhat different reasons, ultimately settling upon the former because the sunset sky is a bit more balanced with the foreground. Granted the 2:1 brought more focus on the footprint and the individual grains of sand, but there was something about leaving the upper third of the frame as sky that made me a bit unsure. Best stay with the 3:2 in the sake of balance here. Or not. As I’ve written many times, while it’s good to have our rules it is also good to break them.
False Spring — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
It’s been warm, folks. Strangely warm for February. Temperatures have ranged in the low- to mid-70s the past two days and it has many wondering if spring is already be upon us. Its tempting to give into the notion with nascent buds and bulbs beginning to show themselves early around much of the Mid-Atlantic. And while it’s easy to party like short sleeve weather is here to stay I cannot help but think back on the past few backloaded winters that have crushed any and all dreams of an early spring. With March looming I worry if we’ll pay the price for what has been otherwise a spectacular February. Will a prolonged cold snap of freezing temperatures lay waste to the early plant and flower growth leaving us with a less than stellar bloom? Time will tell—but hope springs eternal. Pardon my pun.
On Long Beach Island this evening to make photos things were less warm. While temperatures still hung in the mid-50s cold bay and ocean water cast a reminder that we’ve still got a way to go. The micro climate is always something of a marvel. My house, which sits about five miles west of this photo as the crow flies, sat a good 15 degrees warmer than our barrier island. That’s just the way it goes; late to cool down in fall thanks to warm water, and late to heat up in spring thanks to cold water. That’s the ocean, folks—it’s big and it matters.
My choice of title is surely a tie in to the early warmth and its transient tease (probably), but it’s more surely a hat tip to Mr. Cool Hat, George R. R. Martin himself. The sage of Westeros and author of A Song of Ice and Fire. The year of the false spring occurred at the time of the tourney at Harrenhal—a tournament which proved a watershed moment in triggering Robert’s Rebellion and the ensuing events that have become well known to book readers and television watchers alike. Winters are long and cold in Westeros, you guys, and climate change be damned at least we’re not dealing with the Long Night in our realm as yet. For the night is dark and full of terrors.
Controlled burning—or prescribed burning, whichever your flavor—has marked the skies of southern Ocean County with plumes of smoke the past few days. Capitalizing on warmth and wind local officials have taken to their annual task of culling New Jersey’s Pinelands of restrictive low-level growth. Fire is the lifeblood of a healthy forest ecosystem, and controlled burning is a responsible method of human stewardship that keeps our beloved pine forest habitat active and healthy. Not only does it aid in the replenishment and overall health of the pines, it also helps mitigate the risk and potential impact of a large out of control fire. It has an added photographic benefit by way of subject matter and color.
Without wanting to get too close to the action, and without wanting to put myself in the way of hard working fire professionals, I made for Stafford Forge a little before sunset to capture the action from a reasonable distance. It was worth the effort. The sky and smoke was cast in a reddish-pink glow fused with a healthy dose of yellow. Scanning for composition I found a small tree to anchor my image. The real attention, however, goes to the prominent smoke plume pushing its smoke southeastward toward the sea.
Much and More — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
After a week holed up in a downtown Philadelphia hotel it was invigorating to retreat to fresh air and wide open spaces. Backing up a spirited afternoon walk I snagged my gear and made for my usual Cedar Run Dock Road location. There’s something to be said for the familiar, for a mental safe haven that lends a respite by way of the known—not unlike an old shoe. Happenstance had me run into a friend down by the boat ramp. Five minutes of banter ensued cast in mutual appreciation of such a comfortable space. As we said our goodbyes it was time to make some photos.
Tonight I broke from my standard workflow. Instead of dialing in a single composition and sticking with it as clouds come and go and sunset color falls away, I bounced from vantage point to vantage point. Making brackets as I went from seven different perspectives. The clouds were moving at pace and I hoped to get different looks as they reflected upon the many pools of the marsh’s sprawling tidal plain. Of course, I wound up selecting the photograph that is more marsh than pool, but so it goes sometimes. In today’s composition the balance is strong between the thick marsh grasses in the bottom left of the frame weighed against the thick tuft of cotton candy clouds in the top right of the frame. In the middle of these two elements sits a calm tidal pool at the balance point, completing the harmony. Beyond that, warm pastel colors energized an otherwise dormant scene on the marsh. Even in February signs of life still surge. Can you hear spring knocking?
Golden Glow Before the Snow — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/160
You could say this photograph is the golden calm before the white storm. The spring tease before the winter freeze. Today southern New Jersey danced with the upper 60s but make no mistake—winter is coming. Here in the Mid-Atlantic we find ourselves sandwiched between unseasonably warm air, an arctic air mass, and a boatload of moisture ready to wring out on the Ohio Valley, Mid-Atlantic, and Northeast regions. Despite being a fast mover, snowfall rates approaching 3 inches per hour are not out of the question—nor is an embedded rumble of thunder. Cue Cantore. Atmospheric dynamics have loaded this cauldron and its been set to flame on its road to boil. Bring it, I say.
Considering the current weather situation it was counterintuitive taking in the warmth as I stood along a section of seawall adjacent to Little Egg Harbor. The bay water sat calm with only the wrinkles of a slept in sheet stretched across an unmade bed. Fresh salt air and a false warmth had me thinking of little else but the spring and summer to come. As I casually made a few handheld exposures with my 14mm lens, some other photographers arrived on scene, long lenses in tow on the lookout for owls and other seabirds. I’m not sure their quest was successful, but considering the weather it was hard to call any time spent outside today a failure. Ah, I can still smell the sweet air.
Today’s photograph is continuing something of a minimalist trend I’ve got going on. This marking four of my past five shots made handheld and relying on simple, unobtrusive compositions. I’m taken by the open feel and golden tones, accented by the gentle wrinkles reflecting the golden hour sky atop an easy going bay. Simple. Clean. Calm. Nothing overdone—just a wide open space for the viewer to explore. It’s good to remind ourselves that sometimes less is more.
