Greg Molyneux Photography

Category: Blog

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

  • Standing with the Treetops

    HDR sunset photograph of the New Jersey Pinelands' Pygmy Pine Plains taken from the Top of the World
    Standing with the Treetops — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Yesterday I waxed poetic about this great new spot locals call Top of the World. New is of course in the relative sense insofar as it is new to me. This is the second in what will most likely amount to three fully produced photographs from this nascent shoot from this clandestine (not really) Pinelands’ locale. It’s tough enough to come home with one satisfying photo so it’s always a happy dance bonus when that number turns crooked.

    As more of a technician than an artist this selected sunset is by no means perfect. And I’m OK with that. I’ve got an undesirable lens flare on the right edge to the center; my tripod was positioned a little too close to the pygmy pitch pines in the foreground, yielding unnecessary blur just outside my hyperfocal distance; and I’ve got real soft focus and some flare going on in the very bottom left corner. But somehow? It works for me. I purposefully placed my tripod dead smack in the middle of this micro pine canopy to help bring the viewer into the photograph. I wanted your face to by right where mine was—about six feet off the ground overlooking a gradual plain of the smallest fully-grown pine trees you’re never like to see. Through all that, the imperfections work for me. I’d like to say this was entirely premeditated, but other than looking at my bulbous lens glass and noting its closeness to the pines in the immediate foreground, did I notice much at all.

    Here’s an Instagram—gasp a selfie!—of me making this shot.

  • Fresh Tracks, Fresh Places

    Golden hour in the snow; as seen from the New Jersey Pinelands' Pygmy Pine forest. Fresh tire tracks and stunted pitch pine trees are illuminated by sunlight and marked with snow in this landscape HDR photograph.
    Fresh Tracks, Fresh Places — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Hooray for change of venue. Particularly when said venue change is this good. Thanks for the suggestion, Ben Wurst!

    For years—well over a decade—I’ve heard stories of the Top of the World. This so-called “high-point” ensconced amid the New Jersey Pinelands’ Pygmy Pine Forest. I use the term high-point loosely as there is essentially zero elevation here in Ocean County, New Jersey. Nevertheless, at this unique geographic confluence, dwarf pines—not much taller than my waist—sprawl toward the horizon in all directions from what amounts to a very gradual 30 or 40 foot high vantage point. Of course Sun Tzu has been teaching us the merits of having the high ground for thousands of years. If it works in war, why not photography?

    Being this high up among trees so small forgot made for a surreal setting. Surreal in the best possible way. Seemingly perched as a giant atop a magical forest canopy, over the course of two hours I admired the sunlight as it did its golden hour into sunset and then blue hour thing. With each segment in time bringing a brand new vibe to my new surroundings.

    You’ll see more of what I’m talking about tomorrow when I post my sunset shot from tonight. For now I leave you with an energized golden hour that worked its way down the trail from which I came. To execute this shot I had to get real small with my tripod off to the right corner so as not to cast my own shadow and compromise the shot. To give some perspective on just how small these trees are, that one in the foreground to the right, it stands at no more than seven feet tall. Towering over the rest, you can see the others struggle to make it merely half as high.

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  • Trail Rides and Snowy Pines

    Nestled in the heart of the New Jersey Pinelands. fresh snow blankets the fire trails and pine trees of Greenwood Forest Wildlife Management Area in this black and white wide angle photograph.
    Trail Rides and Snowy Pines — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/30

    If literal titles are your thing, this post is for you.

    In a shocking turn of events I woke up early this morning. 5:00 a.m. to be precise. Outside of snowfall and fishing, it’s a tall order to release me from the grip of my warm bed during morning hours. Unless we’re talking about work—which I seldom necessitates my waking up too early. Alas a morning person I am not.

    Sleep be damned, with the excitement of fresh powder during a snow starved year there was no way I was going to miss this opportunity. Even if the wind chills resembled something you’d more likely feel defending your hidden rebel base on Hoth—and that’s without an odiferous Tauntaun to warm your bones. But I digress.

    As I am decidedly lacking in snow photographs I have to exploit all opportunities to shoot it that I am given. The small body of snowfall work is the culprit of a three-part beast: 1) snow can be hard to come by in coastal Ocean County; which relates to reason 2) that I just don’t have enough experience making photographs of snow; and 3) my vehicle is simply too unsafe to drive in snow.

    Fortunately today at least two of the mitigating factors were addressed: a widespread swath of 4″–6″ blanketed Ocean County into the early hours this morning, and I had Jon Carr drive in his Jeep Cherokee. And so it was, Wawa coffees in hand, embarking on a predawn journey into the Pinelands. Much of the next two hours consisted of minimal photography but maximum enjoyment. While great scenes with dramatic light were hardly reaching out to grab us, we just cruised the trails (re: made a bunch of wrong turns) like we’ve done so many times with our crew over these past 17 years. I’m a huge fan of the New Jersey Pinelands regardless of the season, but there’s just something special when they’re draped in snow.

  • Waiting on the Weather

    During a break in the weather clouds part just before sunset coloring the clouds purple and pink in this HDR photograph of the marshes of Cedar Run Dock Road.
    Waiting on the Weather — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Norlun Trough, I summon thee. And your arctic front. And its squall line.

    Bring all your snow, clouds blazing.

    A little before 4:00 p.m. Manahawkin was facing its first real snow shower of the day. The confluence of a clipper system from the north; an arctic front complete with a serious squall line to the west that will parlay to a coastal transfer, with all signs pointing to an inverted trough (that’s that Norlun thing) setting up somewhere over coastal New Jersey. As a weenietastic snow fan teased and tested by a tedious winter this leaves me twitching but cautiously optimistic.

    I figured as I was homebound waiting for snow all day, that chasing light and making photographs was not in the cards. We had been entrenched in a total cloud deck all day with little reason to think there’d be any kind of break. But sure enough 4:30 p.m. showed up and brought the sun with it. Pumped, I scrambled about the house cartoon style where your legs move for 5 seconds before you actually go anywhere. I packed my things, didn’t break anything and made for Dock Road.

    When I pulled up to my usual spot it was clear my standard sunset thing wasn’t going to play. To the southwest the clouds were returning so that kind of shot was a no go. Fortunately pink clouds were rolling on the northeast side. Here I crouched and made the winter marsh scene above.

    Oh, and Happy Valentine’s Day.

  • You have no power here

    An icy handrail makes for an interesting macro shot with the setting sun over the bay off in the distance left of a sharp focused icicle.
    You have no power here — 100mm | f/5.6 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1250

    I’ve been spending much more time shooting on Long Beach Island of late. It’s the ice in particular that has brought me there. There’s just something to that juxtaposition of Winter’s grip imposing its will on Summer’s paradise.

    Yesterday brought me to Surf City, Harvey Cedars and Barnegat Light. And while I did most of my shooting with my cellphone, I did manage to train my macro lens on this icy railing staring straight into the setting sun. In my own head, the primary icicle reminds of my love of maps that began as wee lad. All I see is the penninsula of Cape May County, New Jersey jutting southward, driving Delaware Bay and the Atlantic Ocean apart.

    A tip of the old cap to Jon Carr for calling out the railing. Were it not for his instance I most certainly would not have bothered. You can see his interpretation here.

  • Lamentations Fall Before the Light

    A stunning HDR photograph glistening with pink pastels dancing off the icy stillness of Barnegat Bay as seen from Harvey Cedars Sunset Point.
    Lamentations Fall Before the Light — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    And to think that for even a second I considered not going out to shoot on account of ominous clouds rolling in from the southwest.

    I’d like to think I take some solid landscape photographs—with sunsets obviously being my thing. But for all my merit, I still don’t think I captured the righteousness of this evening’s sunset. Proof I still have much to learn before I ever think I’ve mastered this craft. The glow that set fire to the sky quickened my heart and delighted my senses. Leaving me wearing little more than a child’s uncontainable grin. If not the best, this easily finds a space comfortably in my personal top five. This is the kind of unspoken light that fuels the soul.

    There were plenty other revelers taking in Nature’s work at Harvey Cedars Sunset Park this evening. Though I fear many folks bounced too early, missing the awe that came before us. As I was running around the park, trying to find my desired angle, I could feel something special unfolding. A pink glow was creeping from the horizon and over the next several minutes the color drove eastward, igniting overhead. Viewfinder ablaze, I quickly texted my buddy—also shooting at the park—remarking just how lucky we were. In there interest of full disclosure there may or may not been a few enthusiastic expletives tossed in for good measure.

    All I know is that I am fired up. Thank you Mother Nature for being as unpredictable as you are great.

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  • Meet Mack, Beagle Bulldog Puppy Mix Master

    An adorable low key black and white portrait photograph of a Beagle-British Bulldog puppy mix named Mack, with a red 'Angry Birds' squeak toy between his paws.
    Meet Mack, Beagle Bulldog Puppy Mix Master — 50mm | f/1.4 | ISO 5000 | EXP 1/800

    Female canines you have been put on notice. This little guy’s just about as cute as can be, and he’s got the smooth disposition to match. I mean just look at that furrowed brow and those eyes. This is one awesome dog.

    While I regret to inform you Mack is not my own, he is, however, the latest fur-child welcomed into the loving home of my cousin and his most wonderful bride. Mack joins his two big brothers—Rottweiler and Pit Bull—and is never one to back down; rolling his fur up, getting down and dirty wrestling with the big boys. Between naps and play fights, Mack enjoys cuddles, snuggles, head butts and red Angry Birds squeak toys. I also hear he likes chess, but I’ll have to get back to you on that one.

    He’s melted all of our hearts, and now he can melt yours.

  • Symbol of Strength

    Heavy mesoband snow and wind batter Barnegat Lighthouse as winter storm Juno skirts the New Jersey coast in this low key black and white photograph of a resolute and unmoving Old Barney at night.
    Symbol of Strength — 14mm | f/2.8 | ISO 5000 | EXP 1/30

    To better set the stage take a watch—and listen—to the snow bands and high winds that slammed into Barnegat Lighthouse Monday night. Please excuse my shaky hands.

    Taken a the top of the 10 o’clock hour, I tucked in low and close along the concrete seawall that runs all the way out into the inlet. With the wind at my back and cover to my right flank, I was able to affix camera to tripod and rifle off a few shots before the combination of intense snowfall and wind compromised the clarity of my lens. Wanting to capture snow flakes and the lighthouse beams in the shot I had to dial my aperture wide open and crank the ISO to 5000. This afforded me a 1⁄30 exposure—fast enough to freeze the scene.

    Distracted by storm and snowfall I arrived home and ignored the contents of my memory card. It’s only today, Wednesday, that I’ve gotten to really see this shot for all its worth. Black and white processing was the obvious choice from the get go, with the white of the lighthouse lending strong contrast against the backdrop of a roaring night sky. The Lighthouse itself bears the brunt, revealing an icy spine running vertically down the whole of the structure just to the right of center—its unwavering position a testament to the steady, yet unrelenting direction of the fierce wind howling out of the north-northeast.

    When you’re out there exposed to the elements as nothing more than a vulnerable sack of human, you really appreciate both the intensity of weather and the fortitude of man. Here stands a singular column, standing sentry, strong as ever.

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  • Great Expectations

    After Winter Storm Juno skirted the Jersey shore sparing New Jersey from historic snow, the clouds break revealing a sublime winter sunset on the frozen marsh along Cedar Run Dock Road in this HDR photograph.
    Great Expectations — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    I am a snow lover.

    It is a tough day for snow lovers.

    When words like HECS start getting tossed around, and all area mets—up to and including the National Weather Service—go all in on what seems to be a sure fire Miller B transfer event, snow fiends like myself start going into overdrive. Visions of 2–3 inch an hour snow rates, powdery drifts and canyon banks lining neighborhood streets dance in our head. If you love weather—intense weather—few things get the blood pumping quite like Mother Nature standing at the doorstep.

    And yet weather is going to weather. As inevitable as this storm once seemed, a late capture by an upper level low allowed this beast of a coastal to slip just far enough east to spare New Jersey from real substantial impact. In its wake? A running spectrum of emotion across the residents of New Jersey, and many disappointed forecasters taking a beating in the court of public opinion. Predicting the weather is hard—very hard, and these folks are doing the best they can trying to predetermine outcomes in absence of a full dataset and in the presence of variability. By its very nature it is a thankless task, and I hope they just keep doing what they’re doing and continue to roll in favor of calling the next sure thing—even if it might not be.

    In the meantime, I’m going to keep waiting patiently for my first chance to finally photograph a big snow storm. Oh, and how about that sunset tonight? Check out how just how deep the color was in this straight out of camera, cellphone shot I uploaded to Instagram sans filter.