Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: 14mm

All photographs tagged here have been taken with a 14mm f/2.8 L II lens.

  • Ray of Hope

    Ray of Hope

    HDR sunset photo with beaming crepuscular rays.
    Ray of Hope — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Much needed rain falls and here I sit content at my computer hammering out a post for a photograph I made last night. It was only yesterday happenstance and convenience brought me to Harvey Cedars Sunset Park after an art show at Long Beach Island Foundation of the Arts and Sciences. You see it was only two days ago I learned I had a photo in an art show, and it was only yesterday I learned said art show’s opening was set to take place only hours later. Considering my recovery attendance was hardly mandatory, but in my own head it would be welcome. Feeling well enough and eager to get out of the house I made my way.

    The evening went on well enough. Finely dressed LBIF patrons donning pastel polos, flowing linens while strapped in sandals with casually done up hair and designer sunglasses milled about the main gallery. Seasoned veterans of art and culture made purposeful gazes and meaningful nods while doling out learned platitudes toward many of the pieces on display. Trapped in my own ignorance I was just there for the food—and was wearing a polo of my own. Before me a fine spread of items I can’t pronounce, ingredients I don’t understand, and elaborate skewers contorted into the most circuitous of shapes. I supposed that’s one way to cut down on the speed with which one eats? This offered quite a juxtaposition to the Coors Light bottles posted on the table’s right flank. Perhaps a purposeful dichotomy? Or is safer to assume one cannot get through an art show without a touch of irony?

    After the show’s juror said some kind words toward a few of the real standout pieces, things really got serious as the evening made a welcomed pivot to a Pokémon GO gym takedown. My first such battle. With our Team Valor ranks full we made our stand and usurped power from the gym perviously held by Team Mystic. I didn’t know what the hell was going on as I fervently tapped the screen but we won, and maybe I’ve at least made it sound cool? OK, no? Moving on…

    With the digital madness behind us I made my next pivot of the evening to the cloud structure and crepuscular rays fanning out across the marsh behind the Foundation. Clearly it was time to go for the camera. For the next 20 minutes or so I put the 35mm to work at LBIF. Golden hour was peaking but my muse turned toward sunset—my inescapable mistress. Knowing Harvey Cedars Sunset Park was but a few miles south I declared my intentions to my friends, my clan, my Team Valor, and made my egress and turned toward the park. Sunset was now the name of the game.

    As I walked out to the jetty rock I set up shop with tripod and camera. The park was well attended—as it should be on a stellar summer evening—and many folks were set about the benches to take in the day’s last goodbye with friends and loved ones. Almost immediately I was joined by a mother-daughter combo making photos on their iPhones. They noted my gear and ostensible seriousness which always makes me a touch self-conscious as I feel it ups expectations of my photo output. Admittedly this is most likely self-conscious me overthinking an otherwise benign situation. Not long after I was joined by my Team Valor patriots and we went about our time spending the next half hour taking in a glorious Saturday evening in August. With my health in flux these past few months the calming scene and beaming sunset rays filled me with a wellspring of hope for the future.

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  • Up Sky

    Up Sky

    Landscape photograph of a pastel sunset sky over a summer salt marsh.
    Up Sky — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Howdy, folks. I’ve been off the sunset grind for a few weeks now. And as I bust out my handy-dandy excuse maker’s guide the half-finished flowchart reveals it’s a combination of conflicting schedules, lots of storm action, overcast skies, work, and also a human need to relax a bit. In the absence of anything recent, I’m throwing it back to July 20, 2016, where I already posted one killer sunset from a high caliber evening of Good Shots™. As much as I may not want to admit it summer has begun to wind down. Le sigh. While we’re still a few months away from the Great Browning, an astute observer will have already noted the day shortening sculptor chipping away at both ends. While I’ll be sad to see the summer glory go, there’s much to be excited for as the year winds down. Most notably: sunsets. (And MakersFest!) Sure the days will shorten and the air will grow cold, but with it will come a steady stream of sparkling evening skies. For now, though? Let’s keep this summer fire burning. Cheers!—and as you were.

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  • They Came From Behind

    They Came From Behind

    Photograph capture of fierce clouds and thunderstorms approaching Antoinetta's restaurant from the west.
    They Came From Behind — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 2.5 sec

    Gold Five to Red leader, lost Tiree, lost Dutch.
    I copy, Gold Leader.
    They came from… behind!

    Now that the titular Star Wars reference is out of the way, I’d like to throw it back to last Monday, July 25, 2016, when some serious thunderstorms had us dead to rights in southern Ocean County. After making my first capture on the western most end of  Cedar Run Dock Road (where the marsh opens up from the woods), Jon and I made our way to the east most point of the marsh. Posted up at the boat ramp, we aimed our lenses westward toward Antoinetta’s restaurant and dug in to watch the rapidly approaching storms. Meanwhile in my head a story was set in motion: eager diners going about the machinations of a pleasant dining experience full of fine meals and good conversation before some astute weather observer inside took a westward glance out the many windows to notice the beast barreling in from the west. At which point all attention would divert from the chicken parmesan and risotto to impending doom. One customer would lament a power outage while in the same breath some haughty sir insistent on keeping his head firmly entrenched in the sand would bombastically declare ‘there’s no way that’s going to hit us!’ It is, after all, your world and we’re just living in it.

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  • Weather Moves

    Weather Moves

    Wide angle photograph of severe weather clouds moving in over a salt marsh.
    Weather Moves — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/4

    Monday, July 25, 2016, saw severe thunderstorms batter much of the mid-Atlantic; the early morning hours featured the first round, a natural alarm clock potent in its own right, only to be outdone by the main event during the afternoon and evening hours. The widespread storm outbreak managed to hold together all the way to the New Jersey coast. The perfect storm of high CAPE values, substantial sheer, diurnal heating, and sky high dew points and temperatures fostered a caustic atmosphere for powerful storm development and continuation of the line for hundreds of miles.

    Out on Cedar Run Dock Road, Weather NJ’s JC and I did our best to document the essence of the storm. While I didn’t pull down any good lightning shots—they continue to elude me—I did manage to make a few photographs that convey the anger and intensity of the sky and the subsequent winds that came with it. Even in the shot above, which was made a good 15 minutes before the severe warned storm hit, you get a sense for the ferocious nature of the ever changing cloud deck. Converging air masses were seemingly ripping the sky apart. The marsh betrays the wind intensity that would be otherwise invisible to a photograph. Even at a 1/4 second shutter speed, you can clearly see the foreground marsh grass folding like a tent. At this point I would guess winds were in the 30 MPH range. (With peak storm nearly doubling that speed.)

    On a personal level the pressure of the moment becomes a lot to deal with. You know you’re under the gun. You know strong winds and high voltage is fast approaching. You know wind driven rain will soon be upon you rendering a camera effectively useless thanks to soaked lenses. Rolling thunder in the distance coupled with lightning strikes on the horizon gets the heart rate up, and it’s a real struggle against nature and your best instinct to remain calm and patient enough to make good shots. It’s a far cry from the relaxed pace of a predictable, slow moving sunset that’s for sure. Of course, it’s this adrenaline surge that’s a big part of the fun.

    In the meantime I have one or two other photos to post from Monday, and JC went live on the Weather NJ Facebook page and produced the following video (approximately 36,000 views at the time of this posting!) documenting deteriorating conditions peak storm. Check it out.

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  • Flip Side

    Flip Side

    HDR sunset photograph looking sublime over the salt marsh.
    Flip Side — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Baby, I’m a marsh man. I’m a marsh man, baby. This summer has shown off some scintillating moments out on the Cedar Run Dock Road salt marsh. I haven’t been there to capture all of them, but damn, I’ve managed to make the most of a quite a few—I’m not just talking photographs here, either. An idyllic amalgam of mild temperatures, a steady sea breeze wafting with it the unmistakable salt air that kisses your olfactory just so. Ahhhh… Then there’s the seabirds singing, the terrapin turtles crossing, and of course, the light show nature puts on as day transitions into night, painting cotton candy clouds with the unmistakable brushstrokes from the masterful hands of the ultimate artist. It’s pretty much perfect, you guys.

    Wednesday, July 20, just so happened to be one of those nights. It all came together. Yeah, the green heads were there doing their green head thing, too, but for whatever reason they seem so spare me the worst of their attention. I tell ya, I can’t even attract a fly. Anyway, instead of my usual southwest post-up along the roadside, I hopped over the north side guardrail, into the rock bed, and got low for a north-by-northwest exposure. Having done this sunset things a few times now, I have a good sense when the flip side from the conventional sunset orientation will light up with plenty of pastel drama. This is great, too, as it affords me the opportunity to use the oxbow lake feature that forms as the estuary meanders around the marsh section you see featured in the middle ground. Couple this with a foreground of marsh grasses and you invite the viewer to come on in to a sublime summer sunset scene.

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  • When I Think of Summer

    When I Think of Summer

    HDR sunset photograph featuring cirrus clouds colored in rich pastels over vivid green salt marsh.
    When I Think of Summer — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    I’m on record as being firmly in the sunsets are better in winter camp. And while I’m not backing down from that claim, I cannot deny that when all the pieces come together for a summer sunset the results are damn near impossible to beat. After all, one thing you will not get here in the mid-Atlantic come winter time is lush green marsh grass to compliment a sublime sunset—no matter how vivid the sky lights up. The best you can hope for is some quality ice flows, or some other appealing foreground to mask the unmistakable look of the great browning.

    Last night I was hemming and hawing about whether to shoot; I’m sure glad the manifestation of motivation won out. What initially looked like a decent to slightly above average sunset steadily ascended the sunset potential charts. Cirrus clouds built in across the sky, and some 20 minutes before sunset I knew I was standing at the doorstep of a good one. Come on in, nature was calling. Of course the green heads were calling to, but I did my best to avoid the sharp bite of our most fierce winged foe. A few well timed hand slaps went a long way, too. Sorry, not sorry, flies.

    Before long the great sun disk dipped below the horizon and the pastels began to build. Pink and purple hues first began stretching from east to west steadily arcing over the sky; they were well met by orange and yellow hues pulsing to the west were only minutes before the sun went down. About 10 minutes after official sundown this colorful cascade merged in perfect harmony backed by azure blue skies. What a scene. My best sunset capture since May.

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  • Dead Calm

    Dead Calm

    Sunset photograph of dead calm conditions highlighting vibrant green marsh grass just after sunset.
    Dead Calm — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    There’s just something about marsh grass in early summer. A most perfect union of growth and green infused with all the promise and potency of life. Even in the face of a sterling sunset it was the marsh grass that captured my wonder. Conditions were wonderful this past Saturday, and I’m grateful I was perfectly situated along Great Bay Boulevard to take it all in. Sure the no-see-ums dined a great feast upon my bare shins—still sporting dozens of bites some five days later—but my gaze was undeterred. Content to be in the moment, it was going to take more than a frenzy of pint sized buggers making a meal of my blood to break my attention.

    Scanning back and forth across an endless array of bright green grasses the fluidity of life rose to the fore. As the seasons change so too does the marsh. It is at this moment, however, in the hopes and dreams of early summer that we sit at its peak. The moment when new life teems at the pinnacle of its cycle. Despite our best efforts this moment won’t last forever, and admittedly it’s hard to not fret over the inevitable aging and loss to come. Of course change is inevitable, and as the wheel rolls on life too will return anew.

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  • Not Today

    Not Today

    HDR photograph of a summer sunset over the Great Bay Boulevard salt marsh.
    Not Today — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Last week was rough. One for the memory banks. I will spare this space the details, but I will say things are looking up. Finally back on my feet, a rejuvenation elixir came by way of Great Bay Boulevard where I was out making photographs Saturday evening. Sunset was glorious—birds singing, marsh grass gently swaying in the dying breeze. Bait fish were boiling pockets of otherwise calm water providing an easy meal for the litany of seabirds that make the marsh their summer home. Families were out fishing together as young jet skiers plied their craft. I even took a moment to help out a new shooter with some camera tips to help her on her photo journey. It’s good to give back. It’s good to take it all in. The photographs were just icing on the cake. I struggle with being grateful. Perhaps this is a start.

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  • Light Up The Senses

    Light Up The Senses

    Vertical orientation sunset photograph of dramatic skies and rich pastels over Barnegat Bay.
    Light Up The Senses — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/6

    Here it is—photo number 4 from Sunday, June 5, 2016. Real life has negated any and all attempts at photography the past week or so leaving me desperate to go to the well once more. At least its a deep well. A fresh well full of cold, clean water. Sustenance of the highest order—figuratively speaking in this well. Honestly I wanted to post this photo much sooner, but again, see comment regarding real life. Time to digress—

    I like this shot. I like it a lot. Sure, the rain drops on my 14mm get in my perfectionist craw, but I will try to embrace the “rawness.” Going vertical for the composition allowed me to bring the sky drama into a more comprehensive view. With the whole of the sky torched in pastel fire, the more conventional landscape orientation wouldn’t convey to the viewer the height and scope of the sky. Fortuitously a little bay wave came crashing over at just the right time, with just enough lazy shutter, to bring movement and detail to the foreground. This serves as an ideal counterbalance to a sunset sky loaded down with endless detail.

    With the weekend finally here maybe I can sneak it some time to do a little shooting?

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