Who Goes There? — 35mm | f/5.6 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/800
Footprints? Footprints on the sand dune? That’s prohibited, yo. Photographic evidence would suggest recently someone was out and about on a section of berm otherwise left perfectly windswept along the beaches of Loveladies, New Jersey. Judging by the small size and short gait I’m going to guess this was a child’s work. Fortunately it was one little path of a mere 20 steps or so running close and parallel to the beach entryway. As best I could tell no harm was levied against any wildlife in this endeavor. So as not to seem I’m casting righteous judgement from an ivory tower, I’ll admit the temptation to cross the barrier and traipse into this untouched land is strong. I myself had a moment of weakness yesterday as I thought, if only I could get closer to that little dollop of dune grass you see to the left of this photo in the middle ground. Adherence to rules shoulder angel was able to defeat go ahead no is looking pitchfork guy. Crises averted.
Putting that lesson in moral conflict behind us, these footprints I’ve been going on about lend a suitable foreground element to the composition. Reminiscent of a snow photo from two years back, the small section of prints brings more to the story. Who was here? What were they doing? This brings a human interest to the piece—a small reminder we the people populate this natural world and leave downstream effects in our wake. Some positive, some negative—and so goes our story of progress. Fits and starts. Two steps forward and one step back. This is not an admonishment as we are only human and perfection is better left to a more ethereal realm.
Before we close this out, if you’re ever looking to get up on the dunes in a compliant fashion, keep your eyes and ears open for a volunteer day when our berms are being cleared of refuse, or reinforced with dune grass or old Christmas trees and sand fence. Local organizations could always use more helping hands.
The Observer — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
This title and post was made hours before sunset—hours before this photograph was even made. Only I did not know it at the time. Out for a spot of exercise this afternoon between meetings I had finished a light jog and was breaking things down with a cool down walk before getting back to work. With ear buds in and downshifting from jogging to walking I cued up the Introduction to Walking on Headspace. For the past two months I’ve been hitting the app everyday for a daily dose of meditation, and I was curious to hear whatever coaching Andy had when it came to mindful walking. It was much of the usual soft spoken steady support I’ve grown to know, encouraging listeners to bring themselves into the body—to bring their thoughts to the here and now. Comforted I listened. Relaxed I walked.
As the short session wound down and I approached the end of my walk, Andy hit me with a resonate nugget. In dropping an anecdote about staying present to notice the world around you as you trod upon familiar ground, he noted that when you are present and move through focused on the moment the things around you that you see everyday are never twice the same. Through awareness you can walk down the same street, corridor, alleyway, or field of green, and if your present with yourself the moment will never appear a copy. To the observer each time will prove to be unique.
As if the clouds suddenly parted a chord of resonance was struck, finely tuned to my experience with sunset photography. The simple truth that even as I revisit the same locations over and over again, the light will be different, the clouds will be different, the color will be different, the season will be different—I will be different. Photography has brought me into the body and into the present, to the one place life happens—free of the past and unburdened by the future.
In the interest of full disclosure: This is not a paid or obliged endorsement of Headspace. I’m just really impressed by what it’s short meditative exercises have brought me these past few months. Now if you’ll excuse me it’s time for my evening session.
A boy’s fascination runs deep. For as long as I can remember streetlight worship of steady snowfall has been a most welcomed seasonal companion. Growing up obsessed with snow I would eagerly strike days from the calendar in anticipation of winter weather. Winter was magic, and snow the tangible proof. Countless hours I’ve spent whiling away watching snowfall from any window that would have me. The daylight hours afforded easy, unobstructed viewing of my favorite weather. Come night fall, however, the snow scaled back to a more demure display. Hidden by darkness only in streetlight could I once again lay reassured eyes upon the flakes.
And so I would watch for hours on end, eyes focused sharply between finger wide gaps in the window blinds. No curtain was safe, no window dressing untouched as I bounced from window to window, streetlight to streetlight, maintaining an ever watchful eye on the falling snow. Mixed with the sense of wonder, small fits of worry would work in as I’d fret over the snow letting up. Inevitability taught me early what is good must always end, and so I took to my post with purpose in hopes to maximize as much snowfall watching as possible. Sensible adults would often chime in with raised brows noting I’d grow out of this first love with age and responsibility. Wait until you have to drive in it, they said. Wait until you have to shovel it, they said. First came the shoveling responsibilities, and I loved it—still do. Then came the driving responsibilities, and I loved it—still do. I suppose Miss Snowfall is a keeper, fickle as she may be.
All these memories came flooding back last night as I walked under the streetlight amidst a snow globe style snow squall. For 20 minutes my hometown was transformed into a convective array of heavy snowfall. Precipitation moved in and out just as a warm summer storm, but for a few minutes at least I was kid again standing tall at all those windowsills.
This winter is dormant. This marsh is dormant. My memory card is dormant. My well adored landscape muse has up and left for more colorful climes leaving my inspiration dormant. As bleak as it seems our focus must be challenged to stay on task as we lie in wait for better days. We’re entering what I like to call the calendar dead zone. The two month stretch of winter that spans mid-January through mid-March. Here in the Middle Atlantic when the holiday hangover ends, and we’re left grinding it out through the long dark nights of winter; when the color is all gone and we’re left with little more than a brown expanse of would be life that annually checks out for a long winter’s nap. We on the human side of things are afforded no such dormancy and so we are left awake through through it all—trudging along color blind until spring’s rebirth—far away as it may seem.
Yesterday I had hope things may spark off for sunset. All day long coastal New Jersey was treated to picturesque cloudscapes and crepuscular rays signaling some sundown potential. Unfortunately by the time I made it out to Dock Road the once formidable cumulus cloud features were squashed down to little more than low level pancakes—and I’m not talking about the big boys, we’re talking kid sized silver dollar flap jacks here. With minimal cloud action draping below 850mb it was obvious coloration was out of the cards. Despite the disappointment I took some solace in being out making photos in what has otherwise been a very unproductive month on the photo making front. Here’s to tomorrow.
Mind Your Bridge — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 800 | EXP 1/80
Photographs have been hard to come by in 2017. We’re charging through January and this marks photo number three. Rough—suffice to say I need to pick up the pace. Here I was on a cloudy Saturday, desperate for a muse and grasping at straws, so I made a handful of frames of a Martin acoustic guitar using a wide open aperture on my 35mm lens if only to remember what it’s like. I didn’t even have the explicit intention of coming away with a photo for the website, I just needed to get my hands on the camera.
A day or two later I finally began grappling with some post processing decisions. Thanks to strong contrast I opted for a black and white product. Upon closer inspection I wanted to hone the viewer firmly on the guitar bridge, and so for the first time ever I exceeded a 2:1 crop ratio going all the way to 3:1. For those of you saying, uh, what? this explains why the image is so wide—instead looking more like a panoramic. Specifically, a 3:1 ratio means that for every three units on the x-axis (horizontal), there is one unit on the y-axis (vertical). For a baseline, most of my photographs are displayed at a 3:2 ratio. Jargon aside, I’m down with the end result as it brings the eyes right where I want them.
Taking a step back to talk about something more important than my photos: I hope we can push past our differences to build bridges that connect together our universal common ground. We’re all traveling on this spaceship Earth together—passengers and custodians of the future.
Set Aside Bayside — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Last light and the tide was with me. Which is to say gentle bay waters were low and slow affording me a dry spot otherwise lost to the migrating sea. More often than not I find myself unable to set up shop on this the starboard side of the jetty without getting myself or some gear wet. Nevertheless I like it here—a spot where I made a favorite black and white years back—so it was great to find it available this evening.
Ten minutes to sundown and I was admiring the altocumulus clouds filling the sky. Tight reticulated patterns draped across the deck moving in slowly from the west. Like a cosmic fabric wearing checkerboard markings I was lost in its mesmerizing array. The only question on my mind was would there be enough space in the clouds to allow the sunset color to pass through? It only took a few minutes to find solace as the cloud deck began to heat up in a smoldering red glow. Contented I made my shutters and took in the rest of the show undistracted.
First Off — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
First off I hope everyone enjoyed a relaxing, joyful holiday season, and that you’re primed and pumped for a memorable 2017. Say it with me now two thousand seventeen! Seriously, where does the time go? My brain is still somewhere in April 2007. But such is the way of things. Before we kick things off in this new year please take a look at my 2016 year in review—featuring my 12 personal favorite photographs from 2016—it’s always my favorite post of the year.
Getting back to the present I realized it was the twelfth of January and I’d yet to make a photograph in the new year. In fact, I had yet to make a new photograph since December 21, 2016. A three week drought? Yikes. Anyway, I made it to Dock Road today just in time for sunset. Instead of going for the usual color approach, I opted for a sepia treatment similar to a photograph I produced back in November. I’m a fan of this monochrome hue and found it appropriate to leverage here. Nothing too crazy, nothing too fancy—just a means to get 2017’s photostream off to a sound start. Now onto number two. Cheers.
These Are Your First Steps — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
These Are Your First Steps | Capture Date: January 14, 2016 | Location: Barnegat Bay Beach, Barnegat, NJ
For 2016 I added Barnegat Bay Beach to the rotation of spots to frequent on the regular in hopes of making photographs, and over the past 12 months it has produced quite well. Coincidentally it was my first visit that yielded my favorite result—the surreal, near upside down emptiness captured above. Made at blue hour looking east over Barnegat Bay, it’s easy to lose spatial coherence as colors, shapes, and forms merge at a horizon you can barely even see. The few clues offered the viewer come by way of an exposed jetty that I assume is for tying up jet skis and amorphous blobs just underwater atop the sand. It’s an image that commands thought, asking its viewer to piece together just what kind of otherworldly place this is.
What can I say? I’m a snow lover. All my life I was told I was going to hate it once I grew up and had to “deal with it.” Yet here I am, 34 years old and I dig it as much as ever. (Sorry, not sorry for the pun.) This photograph was made just after a heavy wet snow stopped falling deep in the New Jersey Pinelands. I was romping around Jeep style with my buddy Jon for some trail rides and photos. Once the snow stopped and the sun broke out we got out at a crossing within Greenwood Forest Wildlife Management Area to snag shots as the snow was rapidly starting to melt. I can’t ever remember snow melting so quickly. The onset of sun raised what were already marginal temperatures to the upper 30s/low 40s and natural snow balls began rocketing from the trees; snow was melting so fast you could literally hear it at a loud volume. It was fascinating. Struggling to avoid taking a snow ball to the lens I quickly made off with this handheld frame. Almost immediately it became a favorite. The way the sun works of the snowy pines coupled with the remnant red oak leaves marking the foreground. Despite being the dead of winter there’s plenty of energy and life imbued in this photo.
The Home Fire Still Burns — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/5
The Home Fire Still Burns | Capture Date: June 5, 2016 | Location: Surf City Sunset Park, Surf City, NJ
Fast forward a few months and we come to June. After a Long Beach Island afternoon of busted storm chasing with Jay and Jon, we stopped off at Surf City Sunset Park on the way back from Barnegat Light. Fortuitously it tuned into one of those exercises in timing. As it is with many things in life, timing is everything in photography. Here the frontal passage associated with a line of weakening thunderstorms timed perfectly with back edge clearing to the west just at sunset. This offered exceptional lighting conditions. A specific kind of drama that only comes with storms clouds that fill the column of atmosphere at numerous heights. The affords ample bouncing light contrasting against fascinating cloud shapes. Here it set the stage, and I was most pleased to be there to capture it.
Darkest Light | Capture Date: July 4, 2016 | Location: Ocean Acres, Stafford, NJ (my parents’ side yard)
Hey a Fourth of July shot so how about some fireworks and flags? Yeah!—well sorry. The best I can offer is this black and white photo of hibiscus. Two things you’ll need to understand about me: 1) I adore black and white, and 2) flowermacros are always going to hold a soft spot—they’re how I learned to work a camera. But beyond nostalgia I appreciate this photograph for its shallow depth of field and smooth bokeh, as well as its lines and composition presented in a vertical orientation. And if I really want to tie in an Independence Day theme, the stamen and pistils seem to be exploding from the out of focus petals toward the rear. It’s a simple photograph but I just love the strong contrast and intensity that calls me back to look at it again from time to time.
When I Think of Summer — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
When I Think of Summer | Capture Date: July 5, 2016 | Location: Cedar Run Dock Road, Stafford NJ
The title, When I Think of Summer, pretty much says it all. Even though many of my southern Ocean County cohorts would associate a sandy beach and sweet swells—and maybe some ice cream and barbecue—with summer, it’s the marsh that brings it on home for me. Particularly the marshland of Cedar Run Dock Road. For the better part of two decades this road has been a regular stop off in my routine. Physically close to home yet lightyears away for a quick and cashless escape. Well before I started making photos this was a place of zen. This past July provided a vibrant visual treat out over the marsh, bringing together lush green sedge and a kaleidoscopic pastel sky overhead. Here’s to thinking ahead to summer 2017—oh, and my parents now keep a boat here so this place just got a little bit sweeter.
Flip Side — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Flip Side | Capture Date: July 20, 2016 | Location: Cedar Run Dock Road, Stafford NJ
Hey look, anotherDock Road shot and another July selection. July sits head honcho in this years best of with three photos chosen. In fact, and as you will see, late spring through early fall dominated my 2016 with eight selections happening between June 5 and October 7. While I still maintain winter produces some of the best skies, this year has provided visual proof that spring and summer ain’t no slouch.
This photo works in the pastel peace and tranquility of the saltmarsh. Made just beyond its summer peak, tall grasses framing foreground pull the viewer into the image. The ghosting from a strong evening wind creates a sense of movement further enhancing the sense of place with the photograph. While taken at sunset, this shot is actually facing north by northeast—it just so happened to be one of those setups where the sky colored up for 360 degrees of cotton candy visual joy. You don’t always have to look west.
Ray of Hope — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Ray of Hope | Capture Date: August 20, 2016 | Location: Harvey Cedars Sunset Park, Harvey Cedars, NJ
At the time I made this shot I knew the rays you see above as crepuscular rays. Which is to say a fancy word that I cannot for the life of me pronounce. However, I’ve since learned these are more accurately called anticrepuscular rays—which of course I still can’t say. Regardless this is what science calls rays of light the run from a single point of light—the sun—and radiate upward back into the sky. Pretty cool, huh? They aren’t exactly a regular occurrence so I was rather pleased when they timed up nicely with a serene sunset from Harvey Cedars Sunset Park. If you ever find yourself on Long Beach Island’s north end this is a great spot to take in a sunset, play on some swings, or take in a free concert on Wednesday evenings.
Still the Sirens Call — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Still the Sirens Call | Capture Date: September 2, 2016 | Location: Cedar Run Dock Road, Stafford NJ
Ladies. Gentlemen. Children of all ages. Cats, dogs, alpacas. This is a big time favorite of mine. It definitely slots into my top five, and would have been my top choice for the year had I not made what you will see as the final entry in this list. Captured on Dock Road (shocker) a world class sunset caught fire over Cedar Run tributary and marsh. When you combine that with a still glass mirrored reflection and solid compositional elements, you have yourself a landscape photograph that brings together all the essentials. I can still remember being out there, completely enthralled by the sky around me. So much so it was easy to forget about my purpose, which was the capture the scene. Of course this is great in its own way, nature has a knack for shocking us, for stunning us, for overcoming us and forcing us to be present with the joy and wonder of our surroundings.
Stacked | Capture Date: September 5, 2016 | Location: Antoinetta’s Waterfront Restaurant, Cedar Run Dock Road, Stafford, NJ
Sunsets come in bunches. While we sometimes wait weeks or months on a truly great sky, when they appear, they tend to come in rapid succession. Only a mere three days removed from the stunner two photos up some more magic happened out front of Antoinetta’s Waterfront Restaurant. Antoinetta’s is a go-to photo spot of mine, and it’s had a photograph make both my 2014 and 2015 best of lists. The spot’s got charm, what can I say? While the compositions have been similar over the years, the sky and the sand is always changing. Offering a fresh perspective on an otherwise familiar scene. That said there’s one little detail I am particularly fond of here. The hand stack stoned cairn to the left, reflecting the orange glow of the sunset burn brings an extra element of charm—a positive human touch if you will.
Tend Your Craft — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 160 | EXP 1/30
Tend Your Craft | Capture Date: October 7, 2016 | Location: Long Beach Island Foundation of the Arts and Sciences, Loveladies, NJ
Whoa—a person? Is this for real? Obviously the list takes a turn for photo number 10. I suppose this would be a good time to mention these photographs are sorted in chronological order only, they are not listed in terms of rank. With that out of the way I selected this shot 1) because it’s a departure, and 2) I think it tells a great story. Pictured here is my good buddy Jeff. This past October I was hanging at the Long Beach Island Foundation of the Arts and Sciences watching him work his magic on a soda kiln firing. Since I was there I decided why not make some photographs? Having zero expectations I strapped on my 35mm and popped off some wide open exposures. Jeff was good enough to ignore me and it helped me to better capture the essence of the real work that goes into making real art. I keep saying—to myself anyway—I want to experiment more with photographing people; perhaps 2017 will help bring that to bare?
Bayside Burn — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/8
Bayside Burn | Capture Date: October 29, 2016 | Location: Surf City Sunset Park, Surf City, NJ
This marks the second of what will be three vertically oriented photographs in this retrospective. This has me tickled because I admittedly struggle making good compositions in the vertical, and so to have three make the list has me feel like progress is being made. For some perspective, the past two years I’ve done this I’ve only had one vertical photo in each year end list. So keep it up, Greg!
This picture is another one from Surf City Sunset Park. Were this park not inanimate, and were I a famous photographer perhaps it would be pleased? Anyway, I was just happy to be there to capture what I think is the third—possibly second—best sunset (judging on sky color alone) I happened to capture in 2016. Intense orange radiating out from the horizon as it softened to pastel pink and purple atop the sky. I especially like how it works against the gentle wave lapping ashore in the foreground to tie it all together.
Once More Unto the Breach — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/400
Once More Unto the Breach | Capture Date: December 21, 2016 | Location: Rand’s Marina, Great Bay Boulevard, NJ
Last but certainly not least is so damn cliché but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t apply here. Now I know I said this list was not going in any kind of ranked order, so it just so happens that this is my personal favorite of 2016. Made on the first day of winter it already marks a special place in my deepening photo cache. This easily slots into my all time top three, only behind this and this. Maybe it’s coincidence maybe it’s not, but all three have come from the same spot, what once was Rand’s Marina, and at the same time of year—December. Granted alignment has something to do with it—winter is when the sun jogs far enough to the southwest bringing it to a full prominence this spot otherwise lacks in summer. But more so I think it’s the hundred or so derelict pilings that make this spot so special. It offers seemingly endless combinations of compositions to exploit. It’s a true go to spot for any landscape photographer.
Coda
There it is, folks. My favorite photo moments from 2016 captured in 12 photographs. I want to thank you all for taking the time to share in the photo journey with me, and if you haven’t already please check out my best of lists from 2014 and 2015. Thanks again, and cheers to a happier, healthier, and better 2017. We all can make a difference.
Happy Little Trees — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Here’s a taste of last night’s sunset sauce. Man, it’s been a minute since I’ve photographed from Stafford Forge. Most of this has to do with my new car and the subsequent obsessive compulsive disorder that comes with it. Can’t be having dings, dents, and scratches says my anxious mind. And since the Forge requires some non-asphalt treading I’ve given in to fear and stayed clear. Last night—after a six month self-imposed exile—I returned to a fine stretch of land that’s made for some solid photos in the past. The timing is right, too, as the sun angle from this locale is best served in the winter months when the sun orients itself at its most southwest position.
While last nigh’t sunset doesn’t slot into that ZOMG level it was still pleasant to take in. Winter color is not to be trifled with. When you combine a cold air mass with some mid and high level clouds you’ve got a recipe for intense coloration. The saturation of red and orange burned vividly even as it was cast upon rapidly dissipating cloud cover. Had we had a higher deck of cirrus clouds I think the ever elusive purple tones may have come to bare. (Purple is my favorite color of the sunset rainbow, by the way. I wonder if purple having the shortest wavelength affects why it renders itself less frequently than the other colors?) Nevertheless it was great to be back out in nature tucked behind these three happy little trees. They were kind enough to let me join in on their power trio while offering their services as a suitable foreground prop. Cheers, fellas.
Coming up in the not too distant future? My annual best ofretrospective. It’ll be up on December 24, 2016, so I best get cracking on my top 12. With any luck I can squeeze out one more quality shot before the post goes up.
