Category: Blog

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

  • Spring Too Soon

    Spring Too Soon

    Square format photograph of a freshly bloomed daffodil
    Spring Too Soon — 35mm | f/2 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/5000

    Eager for some more lens time, I photographed this daffodil earlier today. Chilling on the north side of my yard, it’s always my first flower to bloom—a clockwork messenger chiming to the first sounds of spring. A spring it seemed that was on with a vengeance this March. Seeing temperatures readily cracking 60, with several spikes into the 70s and 80s. Record shattering warmth after the back-to-back, bitterly cold backloaded winters of 2014 and 2015 that locked the mid-Atlantic in ice. Finally it seemed this was the year to rocket off into an early, and perhaps even warm spring.

    [Insert cliché record scratch] We toss.

    In spite of our best hopes of a Cinderella springtime, it’s looking more and more likely that the region will face a significant late season storm Sunday into Monday. Just in time for the start of spring. The spring that once held such hope. Instead we may be looking at widespread moderate to significant accumulations across the area. So all those poor cherry blossoms that got dressed up early this year will have their nascent blossoms held in icy cold hands. I guess we hold our collective breath that the moderate temperatures spring back post haste.

    As far as the photo goes, here’s shot number two with 35mm. I’ve been keen to see how the bokeh would show with flora work, and the daffodil’s spring showing made for a timely subject. With plenty of mid-day sun pouring down, I rifled off a few shots from an approximate distance of about 10 inches from the daffodil bloom you see above. Stopped down to f/2 there’s plenty of buttery bokeh smoothing out the shallow depth of field. I love this kind of shooting—thin areas of selective focus that make for a more airy, whimsical feel.

    My brief time with the new lens continues to impress, even if it still feels a bit foreign to me. From today’s quick session the takeaway was all about color. Specifically the color rendering in full, harsh sun. The blues and yellows being particularly vivid standouts.

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  • Run Out the Tide

    Run Out the Tide

    Golden hour photo of dead low tide at the Great Bay Boulevard salt marsh
    Run Out the Tide — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Friday evening, about 20 minutes before I made this, some primetime golden hour light was pouring over the salt marsh along Great Bay Boulevard. Better yet, the clouds were decent with the tide dead low and dead calm. All signs point to decent photo making when these conditions are met.

    Compositionally my goal was to key off the remnant bulkheads—the roughly 1 foot in diameter stumps of wood you see aligned at an angle about the foreground—while conveying the extent of the dead low tide. To do this I kept my tripod higher than usual, putting the camera body about 5 feet off the ground, giving me enough angle on the marsh. More often than not I tend to get low and close when shooting wide angle—this makes closer objects appear more dramatic (re: large), but limits your ability to push the viewers eye depth further out toward the horizon. In other words, if I was crunched down here as usual, the tidal exposed marsh and the still water to its right would appear as much thinner strips. However, the bulkheads would be given much more visual weight. These are the kinds of decisions you have to make when you approach a scene. What am I trying to convey? And then, perhaps more importantly, what concessions do I have to make to achieve said conveyance? This is where I cannot advocate trail and error experimentation enough in an era of digital.

    But it’s not all faeries and roses here. Due to the extreme angle I placed the sun—setting it to the outer sixth of the frame—chromatic aberration and lens flare marks the horizon from right to left in several spots. While I’m not sure if it’s a bad thing, I’m fairly certain it’s not a good thing. Ultimately I will leave this up to the subjectivity of the viewer. At the very least I should concede this effect was not intentional.

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  • Two Together

    Two Together

    Low key sunset photo of two pieces of wood standing upright in a marsh
    Two Together — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/500

    Here it is—my first photograph with the new 35mm lens. Finally. Despite having this bad boy for a week now, up until tonight I had yet been able to piece together a serviceable shot. Sure there’ve been a few passable photographs, but nothing of real interest or note. This isn’t entirely unexpected: 1) I’ve never shot at a 35mm focal length before; and 2) there’s always a learning curve with a new lens. Where are its sweet spots? How sharp is it wide open? What kind of bokeh and depth of field are we dealing with? How shallow is the area of focus and how does it change throughout all f-stops? How fast? How does it focus in low light? In hyperfocal how close to my foreground subject can I get while keeping it and the horizon in acceptable focus? And so it goes. While this learning curve can feel tedious and restrictive at times, it’s a necessary period in trial and error as you learn the limits and capabilities of your lens. So here’s to a spring and summer of experimentation, and a few expletives.

    Through limited period of field time so far, my primary observations orbit damn this thing is heavy, and holy smokes, this thing is sharp wide open! The latter has me excited, and the former I don’t mind—I actually prefer a heavier rig, I have strong, sizable hands and prefer the heft; though I suspect I may be in the minority here. However, the combination of sharp focus and shallow depth of field—particularly wide open at f/1.4—has me salivating for flower season. This should afford some cool looks with all the flora about the area that’s about to bloom.

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  • Machinations of a Pastel Sky

    Machinations of a Pastel Sky

    Landscape photograph of pastel clouds over marsh at sunset
    Machinations of a Pastel Sky — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    For southeast New Jersey peeps a vantage to the north and east had it going on at sunset last night. Bailing on the traditional west by southwest exposure at sundown—which had nothing doing but clear skies—I did a 180 and posted up on the north side of Dock Road. A whole 20 foot walk from my usual spot. Whew! From there I let nature do the work. Admittedly I had a bit of trouble centering on the turning waterway while keep some rouge elements of the guardrail out of the foreground. With a little fiddling of tripod height adjustments I made it work. After that it was all just pushing buttons.

    Heading into yesterday’s shoot on what was 4 March, I had been in a bit of a dry spell. I hadn’t been out doing the photo thing since 16 February, when coincidentally another striking east facing sunset took shape. Landscape photography is full of peaks and valleys; hot streaks and dry spells. When you’re at the mercy of weather, timing, and real life responsibilities, opportunities to shoot come and go. As tedious as it may become at the tail end of an extended hiatus, the reward of a steady supply of great light makes the wait bearable. If nothing else photography is a lesson in control—insofar as we ain’t gonna have it.

    In other photography news: I picked up a long overdue 35mm lens yesterday. Fifth Prime I’m calling it as it joins my 14mm, 40mm, 50mm, and 100mm as the fifth prime lens in my bag. I’m excited to see what new opportunities this long coveted piece of glass affords me. I’m even thinking of dabbling in some people photography with this at my side—it will be interesting to see if this actually materializes.

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  • Worse for Wear

    Worse for Wear

    =Sunset photograph overlooking Barnegat Bay and a decrepit bulkhead
    Worse for Wear — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Eastern facing sunsets some days sing supreme—and while yesterday’s western exposure was a fast moving fiery red, it was to the pastel east that I focused my gaze. With the tide well up access to Barnegat Bay Beach was out of the question, eliminating any hope I had of working the wave runner jetty into my frame. Scanning for alternatives this derelict bulkhead—seemingly none too old but certainly in disrepair—thrust up its hand, eagerly volunteering as a workable foreground. The missing boards and rusted nails made a suitable fallback, and as I was dialing in the frame the grain pattern on the support poles had me mesmerized. The pole to the right in particular with its almost camouflage pattern array. A smattering of seagrass even found itself snagged upon the remnant nails. There’s just a ton of neat little things going on in there if you stop to take a closer look.

    The strength of this photograph is all about balance. Composed of a largely symmetrical foreground squared up perpendicular to the bay and horizon. To the sky there’s a high pastel cloud deck, emblazoned pink that’s largely being blocked out by the fast moving low-level cumulus clouds that came racing overhead from west to east. For about 2 minutes they colored up just enough with a touch of red upon their underbelly. I’m torn as to whether these clouds were a welcome addition to my frame, or if they’re more accurately described as an ill-timed guest. They certainly bring some drama in the form of shape and contrast, but at the same time they blocked out what would have been a potent light show at the higher cloud levels to the east. For a time there were hints we’d replicate the eastern sunset from The Great Gig in the Sky, but in the end the timing wasn’t quite right. Embrace the chaos thusly.

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  • Where do we go from here?

    Where do we go from here?

    Blue hour photograph taken among marsh grass at a frozen Stafford Forge
    Where do we go from here? — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Tucked in among the lifeless grasses, cloistered from the outside world though hardly sheltered from its inhospitable cold, I made my stand—kneeling. With an icy tripod widened and set to its lowest setting, I was low and I was close to a wee bit of opening—revealing a low level glimpse out to the frozen lake of Stafford Forge. With the sunset sky failing to produce much drama I fell back to making the most of the scene I was given; and it’s a shot I’ve made before. Sometimes you’ve just got to work with what you’ve got.

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  • The Cold Will Roll

    The Cold Will Roll

    Sunset photograph of salt marsh just frozen over
    The Cold Will Roll — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/125

    It’s on, New Jersey. True arctic air is rolling across the Northeast and Mid-Atlantic and with it comes a polar left hook of cold to the jaw of we the lower latitude dwellers. While the bays remain open water for now, the marshes have begun the inescapable transition to pop-up ice world. In the face of possible subzero temperatures overnight I imagine said bays will not be far behind. This is a not so welcome reminder of the powerful cold we squared off against in winter’s 2014 and 2015. Fortunately this cold snap will not have that kind of staying power.

    In the face of biting cold and stiff wind I simplified my shooting workflow tonight. There was no tripod. There was no bracketing. With steady gusts over 30 mph, stability and warmth was a factor. With that I had a go with some old school single bracket handheld shooting. Aided by a frozen marsh I was able to get up close and personal with the tide pool above. On my knees from right at the water’s edge, bringing the viewer right into the sunset action. Juxtapose this with a very similar shot I made earlier this month from this spot where I am set farther back, with the camera several feet higher. Notice how the perspective and intimacy change over the span of only a few feet? I prefer tonight’s tucked in look.

    From now through Sunday we let the cold air roll. May it bring the deep purple sky I long for.

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  • Better Off Bayside

    Better Off Bayside

    Landscape photograph of wispy clouds and a calm Barnegat Bay at sunset
    Better Off Bayside — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/80

    I thought about ending this photograph’s title with a question mark to convey the right inflection to reflect my second guessing as where to shoot yesterday. After Friday’s snow I was back to my regularly scheduled sunset shooting on Saturday. Initially I was going to head to Great Bay Boulevard, but idling at the intersection of Nautilus and Route 72 I had a change of heart. Perhaps not up for the longer drive due to hunger I tossed the plan and made for Surf City’s Sunset Park.

    While this spot seldom disappoints I knew I was taking a bit of a gamble. Over the winter months, as well as the tail end of fall and early spring, with the sun setting at a more southwest orientation it’s sometimes difficult to make a good angle from this purely westward facing spot. For that reason I abandoned bringing the sun disk into the frame. Relying on theater of the mind the sun can be envisioned off screen quite far to the left of my frame. This all worked out, however, with soft wisps of clouds coloring up nicely over the lightly rolling three inch waves lapping the sand and pebbles just on shore.

    It was a peaceful seen along Barnegat Bay, and several revelers made it to the shoreline to say goodbye to the day. At least three or four folks with their cameras, and what looked to be a gentleman tucked away in the northwest corner possibly making a time lapse. It’s always nice to see others making the most of the sunset muse. Yet with that my focus shifts back to the upcoming snow potential across the mid-Atlantic over the next 72 hours; because where there’s snow potential, there’s photo potential.

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  • Ephemeral Paradise

    Ephemeral Paradise

    High key landscape snow photography of the New Jersey Pinelands
    Ephemeral Paradise — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/250

    The winds of change blew through the coastal Mid-Atlantic region turning 60 degree temperatures and rain on Thursday into a fleeting winter wonderland come Friday. The predawn hours saw a changeover to snow from west to east as an over-performing coastal low pressure developed along a stalled cold front just off the coast. While there were hints of this possible outcome, a mid-week fade from the models coupled with unseasonably warm temperatures sent this system to the farthest reaches of public consciousness. A trend to a northwest solution began in earnest on Wednesday and didn’t look back until widespread 3″–6″ fell upon an unsuspecting region. As as the alarms sounded many questioned whether 60 degrees and soaking wet ground could create an accumulating snow solution some 18 hours later? In hindsight such skepticism was put to bed.

    For my entire life I’ve watched the weather in awe. Captivated not just by its patterns and trends, but by its consistent penchant to surprise. There are no sure things in weather, and given a large enough sample size over a long enough period of time, and you’re bound to observe rare, if not entirely unique occurrences. In this case not only did the snow show up with much surprise and in the face of doubt, it also disappeared nearly as fast as it came. While making photos out in the Greenwood Forest Wildlife Management Area just after the snow had stopped the great thaw had begun immediately. A snow melt the likes of which I had never seen. With sun-kissed energy pine boughs began shedding their load as temperatures rose and some wind worked through to ease their weighted burden. Steady streams of snow, water, and ice were melting away at a rate I’ve never before witnessed. It was as if the Pinelands were insistent upon forging forward to spring in the blink of an eye. Despite clear skies working in, the forest looked and sounded as though a robust summer downpour was working through the thicket. You could watch and hear the earth take its snow back in real time. A symphony for the senses.

    Of course the immediacy of the melt brought on some needed expediency for making photographs. Matters were made a bit more tricky as softball sized snowballs were dive bombing the ground both readily and at random from the canopy. My camera and I took a few good hits before the lens and body were too overwhelmed with water, giving me just enough time to make this photograph and a few others. A brief moment in time captured before any remnant of our latest weather event fell into obscurity. A ghost storm if there ever was one.

    Oh, and there are a few storm signals looming to start next week. For now, we track.

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