Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: 100mm

Made with a Canon EF 100mm f/2.8 Macro USM.

The Small Blue
The Small Blue — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/500
Editor’s note: [July 29, 2017] This is not a small blue butterfly. It is an eastern tailed blue butterfly. It’s the small thin tail that earns this distinction. Shout-out to Dave Blinder who coincidentally posted a shot of an eastern tailed blue on his Instagram today thus unveiling my error. It’s always good to learn something new. I’m keeping the title as is—it’s still a blue butterfly small in size.
A favorite bug friend came to feast upon a favorite flower. Macro serendipity multiplied. It’s been years since I’ve photographed a small blue butterfly. (Note: This is not a small blue) So you can imagine my happiness when I spied it doing its nectar thing atop a purple coneflower.
Outside with my gear I got to work making photos. Pleased the dive bombing carpenter bee that was harassing the silver-spotted skipper earlier had left its post, the little ~~small blue~~ eastern tailed blue was able to feast unmolested. While small this little fella packed plenty of courage. He paid me no mind as it drank about the coneflower, dexterously darting its tongue amid the orange spires. With notable discipline the ~~small blue~~ eastern tailed blue worked clockwise about the coneflower stamen at a steady pace. The predictable clockwork fashion aided my shooting. I was able to get close and anticipate its maneuvering with ease.
From here I worked the full midday sun into advantage. It afforded fast shutter speeds to aid handheld sharpness. More beneficial, it infused the exposure with strong contrast. This creates the deep blue-black behind the small blue and amplifies the dramatic streak of highlight running atop the edge of its wings. Lending a theater quality that might shine upon the actor during her soliloquy. The ~~small blue~~ eastern tailed blue muse was not lost on me.
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July 29, 2017
Liquid Lunch
Liquid Lunch — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1000
I made the most of strong midday sun and an anxious butterfly battling for a sip. While I may have contributed to this silver-spotted skipper’s general unease, to be sure it was a dive bombing carpenter bee who proved the true villain. Selfish to the last this boring bee, not content with undermining wooden structures, also suffers from an insatiable need to dominate the local plant life as well. Unprovoked harassment aside, the skittish butterfly proved tenacious and drank surreptitiously upon a purple coneflower nectar in fits and starts.
As the drama unfold I remained the steadfast dispassionate observer. Channeling my best, albeit deficient, Sir David Attenborough, I permitted nature’s battle unmolested. Instead of meddling in the travails of bugs I sat back with my 100mm macro lens and popped off exposures. I worked close and fast relying on handheld work to make my frames.
Five minutes feel about 20 when you’re front and center with nature. Time dilation further magnifies when viewed in macro. Tunneling focus sets in as your whole world collapses down to lens physics making large of the small. It’s as if descending into an enlarged world of minutia brings with it a slower perception of time, reinforcing its relative nature. It is not without other lessons. The speed of the big world evaporates. The worry over text messages, tweet storms, and emails that need answering two minutes before receipt fades in full. It’s as if nature is trying to tell those who will see what does indeed matter.
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July 25, 2017
In the Flower of My Youth
In the Flower of My Youth — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/320
The flower’s life moves with speed. Governed by uncontrollable forces from dust to dust it will rise, flourish, and whither. Rejoining to the earth bearing the wear of a life well lived. Brief as that life may be. At its height a culmination of beauty, strength, and vigor owns the spotlight magnifying the magnificence of life. Anchored by our frame of reference onlookers glimpse life for what it will be, is, or once was.
Ruminating upon my own flower this reality has come into particular, and ofttimes uncomfortable focus. Viewed against a litany of health problems experienced over the past 13 months I face the age of 35 at month’s end. Throwing into high gear the acuteness of transition from is to what once was. My youth is fallen from me. Torn from my fingers without even a moment to slip. Like all transitions change augurs uncomfortable truths. Yet facing the truth brings the necessary knowledge for the next step—the next triumph. Honor what once was and embrace what wisdom awaits.
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July 14, 2017
See Me
See Me — 100mm | f/2.8 | ISO 400 | EXP 1/1000
I’d be lying if I said the hosta plant was high on my list of favorite flowers before getting behind the lens. In fact, I’d be lying if I said I ever took much note of them at all. Here again photography proves a great teacher, turning attention to where before there was none. More precise, it was this time a year ago I first fixed focus on a hosta with my macro lens. In a frame not dissimilar to what I share today, a hosta bloom unfurls with a kindness into a delicate array of petals bathed in pastel tones. Layers peel away and lend depth to provide a softness and intimacy that passed heretofore unnoticed. Unnoticed at least to my once uncultivated eye.
Hobbies are great. Hobbies that teach us, humble us, surprise us are even better. It’s one thing to find something you’re good at and helps while away the hours. It’s a whole other thing to find something that challenges you in unforeseen ways and breaks the well worn foundations which bind us to our ways.
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July 12, 2017
Picked by You
Picked by You — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/400
Oh beloved flower macro forever I hold dear. Time and again I’ve written about macro’s special place in my photographic journey. Were it not for my 100mm lens during 2012’s daily photo project I’m most positive I wouldn’t be the landscape photographer you know today. In truth, I wouldn’t be any kind of photographer today.
Specific credit must go to flowers. A legacy of my home’s previous owners—my parents—is an array of perennials the liven up the property from April through October. Cutting my teeth in 2012, flowers, beautiful and without judgment offered an approachable muse for this shy shooter. Allowed to hone my posture, technique, and stillness I took to handheld macro shooting with some dexterity. Learning to depress the shutter between breathes as becoming an able marksman.
From there I built upon composition principles. Applying the rule of thirds, maintaining balance and symmetry in my frames. It was during this nascent stage my eyes opened to the mechanics of bokeh and depth of field. Once oblivious I had no idea lenses produced areas of non-focus in such an appealing manner. Taken by this effect with earnest, I’ve been an advocate of open apertures for my entire body of non landscape work ever since. I even made a connection to my adolescence as a struggling painter. In all my works I tried to paint all aspects of the composition with perfect rigid detail. Had I eased and let non essential portions blur focus I would have brought more attention to the subjects that mattered. This is vital in portraiture or a still life that features a key subject—akin to the flower above. It’s remarkable to learn your lesson over a decade later from little expected places.
To come full circle I made this photograph at my parents’ new house. Ensconced yet again by a rich array of perennials. Here it was a breed of Black-eyed Susans that called to my camera and me. You may recall I published one photograph already from the batch of photographs I made last Sunday. I was glad to dust off my 100mm macro lens to revisit from whence I came.
Editor’s note: Shout-out to everyone on Instagram and Snapchat who came to my aid. You helped me decided between color and black and white for this photograph. This title is a hat-tip to you. More news: I published a column for Breaker Zine’s debut Beta Issue and my article is now online. If you enjoy reading about how I got started with photography be sure to check it out. Thanks!
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July 1, 2017
Adornment
Adornment — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/320
You know the grind. You feel it. It weighs heavy as you mire through life’s ebbs and flows. You cherish the highs and bury the lows. It’s in the space between you grind for purpose. Two steps forward. Two steps back. Captured in inescapable reality, caught in the throes of a fated cosmic dance.
You adorn your triumph and bury your loss. Unobserved to others the loss is still as real. No less massive, no less an equal equal force in the intwined gravitational balance. Only buried, left to rot and consume. Of course this is life. An impartial duality to remind you of inherent vitality sprinkled with uncertainty. The fearsome dive to the depths releases you to relish the inevitable rise to new heights. Actions need balance. Yet the weight of it all will pull you back to the grind. Working. Churning. Struggling. Steadfast to best understand what it all means. You’re tired. It is in these moments where you are best to open up; to show your full self warts and all. Let the world see you as you are, adorned with hope, fear, and the grinding middle ground we all feel.
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June 9, 2017
Look Inside
Look Inside — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/320
May 2017 brought the rain. With it came puddles of mud and big blooms of flowers. Currently on display are the peonies. I have four peony plants about my front and back yards, each a slight variation of the species. I’m no botanist and cannot label the differences. Two of the peonies are of the pom-pom variety. Bulbous fluffy flower petals with plenty of fluff. The two others are more sparse of petal and unfurl to reveal a large bundle of pollen rich yellow stamen. The pink version is the one you see above. Its purple counterpart will not be in bloom this year thanks to an overgrown spirea.
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May 27, 2017
Identify Yourself
Identify Yourself — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/640
My brain gets the best of me. Often I wrap myself sideways in details that stand meaningless to most. Mired in Minutia: A Greg Molyneux Memoir. Case in point, I present this photograph. I’ve been scrutinizing Google images for days, sweating over proper bee identification. Is it a bumblebee? A carpenter bee? A rusty patched bumblebee? Which until yesterday I knew nothing about; bombus affinis is one cool species name, though. Or is it some other bee I don’t even know about? Ah yes, the endless fretting of a runaway mind.
Taxed and unable to commit I sent a photo of my photo to Ben Wurst today. South Jersey’s Captain Planet, Ben’s the clear choice for local wildlife identification. Almost immediately Ben confirmed my suspicion. Declaring this here bee of the carpenter kind. Whew! Are you tired from this tedium, too?
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May 26, 2017
Speak Softly
Speak Softly — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/80
Speak softly and carry a macro lens. And that’s enough Teddy Roosevelt for this post. Besides, I’m quite a loud talker. Despite being sans computer for the better part of the past month I was still out in my yard making photos. I’m sure my Mid-Atlantic flower peeps noticed the stellar wisteria bloom that manifest this spring. It was something else. When these little beauties go they create one of my favorite flowering spectacles. Tentacles of blossoms unfurl with columns of flowers serving as would be suction cups upon chlorophyll tentacles.
Centered in my backyard sits a small wisteria. It annoys me to know end come late spring; stretching without mercy to attach itself to most anything. These bad boys grow at an alarming rate. The only way to greet it is head on—trimming shears in hand—and on a regular basis. But during the years they bloom en masse, all the invasive conquest that comes later is worth it.
As for the photograph above we’ve got a few things working here. Some good and some accidental. The good? The light play. Rich afternoon light set up ideal conditions to capture the petite blossoms. The accidental? I was shooting handheld with my 100mm lens and not paying enough attention I dropped a 1/80 second exposure. As a general rule I like my exposure to be greater than or equal to the focal length of the lens. In this case an exposure greater than (re: faster than) or equal to 1/100 second. Holding to this formula helps keep your handheld shots sharp. Yet in this case the accidental soft focus builds on the photo. It drops a layer of whimsy onto the frame; a warm glow calming the soul. Sometimes our mistakes work in our favor.
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May 22, 2017