
Friday’s are always better with flowers. At least I think so. With Fall here this is getting to be just about it for flower season. Until next year, little buddies.
Greg Molyneux’s latest photographs and words presented in reverse chronological order.
Here’s my other shot from Monday. The shot I had all set up and dialed in before plans changed. It worked out for the best since I walked away with two keepers. And while I’m hardly a math magician even I can surmise two is greater than one.
While compositionally sound, what I like most about this shot is the essence it captures. This is the Jersey Shore I know and love. The backwater coastal ways, the estuaries, the salt marsh. It’s where I find my peace.
Long before I was into picture taking, I would take drives to the marsh—often with friends—to just take in the scene. Away from the angst and bustle of the real world, the busy world. We all need place where we can take a step back and decompress. That’s what the marsh is for me.
Milestone alert: While yesterday was my 100th post on this website, this here shot is the 100th image I’ve shared. Thanks to all those who have visited, and thanks to all of those who someday will. Cheers.
Tonight I had solid clouds to work with but no color. Not exactly sure what to shoot I knelt down roadside, hands cupping my camera no more than an inch above the asphalt. The first test shot showed a promising composition. A second later I heard a car approaching, roughly a half a mile out.
Knowing the photograph I hoped to produce, car approaching, camera aimed blind in nothing more than a general direction, I depressed the shutter. A quick glance down at the viewfinder showed luck was on my side. Success.
Fun fact: This is post number 100 since the January launch. Woohoo!
Photography rule #648: be adaptable.
Photography rule #648a: be fast—with your adaptability and your feet.
In photography as it is with life, it’s always good to have a plan. Not just for the structure, but more for the mindset it creates. A mindset that has us thinking about our craft long before and long after we’re out in the field executing. Through the iteration our work becomes better and more our own. And our hairs grow grayer, too!
Last night’s plan was all about heading south to Great Bay Boulevard to make the most of an ideal late afternoon cloud setup coupled with a perfectly timed low tide. Things were looking up!
My buddy and I arrived on scene about an hour before sundown and everything looked great. After scouting a composition the minutes passed and the sky grew more bleak. Figures. Low level clouds made their way in, draping the southwestern horizon. Things went from good to bad in the span of 20 minutes, and this sunset, like many before before it, had bust written all over it.
6:50 p.m. About five minutes past sunset. Nothing but blues and grays. No color in sight.
Then Jon calls over, “check out over there.” I look to the northwest over my right shoulder to spot Jon’s finger pointing off along the horizon. A lone jet of pink streaking across the western horizon off toward the north. Perplexed I kinda stood there for a minute or two more amazed than anything else.
6:55 p.m. Ten minutes past sundown. The pink is growing.
Things are escalating quickly. The northwestern sky is lighting up pink and it’s spreading quickly. Too bad it’s spreading nowhere near my shot. All the color stayed to the northwest, a real oddity for sunset light.
At this moment I knew I had to move. And fast. Decisively I scooped my tripod, camera fixed to its head, and began a 200m sprint toward the bayside beach. Running like a soldier with a rifle, I had my setup cradled and moved as quick as my 32 year old wheels would allow. I can still pick ’em up and lay ’em down.
Knowing I had no more than five minutes of color left (max!) I arrived to the bay beach. I looked left. I looked right. I Spotted some neat driftwood and knew that was my foreground. It’s not like I had time to explore other options. Above is the shot I exposed. Who the hell needs a plan anyway?
I took this on Friday so I’ve been a little lazy in getting this posted. My plan was to post this for #floralfriday but hooray laziness. That was sarcasm. Mostly.
Each season, for the past three seasons anyway, I make a point to photograph my backyard quick fire hydrangea in the early Fall; after its white petals bleed out to soft pinks and purples, but before said petals fall to the ground for winter quarters. This was the product of my annual rendezvous.
I’ll miss you flowers. Until next year.
I came away with two shots from last night’s sunset shoot. The one I posted yesterday and the one you see above. Only minutes after the first photograph, the sky had undergone a rapid transformation. From the deep blue sky and dramatic clouds to the smooth orange glow backed by an almost turquoise sky that we see here. Once that sun came under the cloud draping just over the horizon the warmth of the sunlight changed—dialing up the orange and yellow and intensifying shadows. This is a big part of what make sunset (or sunrise) so exciting—you can have numerous stunning scenes in the span of one half hour.
A few thoughts from tonight’s shoot:
September continues to prove itself a great month for photographs.