Tag: 14mm

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

  • You See

    You See

    14mm wide angle HDR sunset photo capturing pastel color skies over Cedar Run Dock Road salt marsh.
    You See — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    You can visit the same place over and over for years, photograph it hundreds of times, and to quote the great Yogi Berra, “you can observe a lot by watching.” Which is to see one of my assumptions about the Cedar Run Dock Road salt marsh may be false. For years I operated, with certainty, the notion that come late June/early July the marsh grass would take on a special kind of green. A solid sea of newborn springtime green, uniform and lush. The marsh grass would grow long and the color it cast had such a lively glow that if you stared hard enough you’d think it breathing.

    Much of this notion stems from a single, formative photograph I made back in 2013. It was a pair of photographs, actually, yet I have but one posted here. South-facing, a summertime sun shower that to this day still holds a spot in my nine photo portfolio. Suggesting in and of itself I may be holding on to something too tight. This photo shows the marsh in all its green glory. From that point on, as the calendar flipped to June, I would hype on the great green return. Except it has turned more into the great green reckoning. Instead of a green shag carpet the marsh has taken on yellows and reds worked in among the green. I have also observed the grass has not grown quite as tall. Interesting.

    So what gives? Were I of a proper scientific mind it would be time to lay down a hypothesis, prepare an experiment, and record results. My observation, however late, as shown my years long hypothesis about greening to be wrong. Is there a way to demonstrate experimentally why? Can said experiment then be independently repeated by others and at other salt marshes? Of course I lack the skill and intellect to make any of this happen, but I will, as any laughable armchair scientist would, spitball the possibilities. I mean anti-intellectualism is en vogue no anyway, am I right?

    So here goes. Years of evidence suggests lush green is the exception and not the norm, at least over the past five years. Whatever happened prior is out of reach. So what happened back in the halcyon days of June 2013? I have a couple thoughts. One possibility is the presence of more fresh water in the salt marsh ecosystem. If not freshwater, then some kind of difference in the water table to facilitate lush growth and coloration. The second condition may have wholly been a factor of lighting. I made South-facing in late afternoon as a thunderstorm was pushing in over the marsh from west to east. Set against the darkened, rain filled clouds was a potent dose of golden sunlight. It is possible this let play affected the color of the grasses. I find this latter possibility more dubious, but for right now these two theories are all I have got. If any folks out there in the know what is actually up I would love you to take me to school.

    I will end this saunter through my mind’s eye with a quote by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, “you see, but you do not observe.”

    Update [30 June 2019]: My smart and astute friend Staci dropped this clever insight on Facebook: “Hurricane Sandy, fall 2012. I posit that perhaps all of the detritus and chaos from that storm, toxic to the ecosystem or otherwise, could’ve had an impact.” This makes a lot of sense. Thanks, Staci.

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  • Marsh Moods

    Marsh Moods

    14mm wide angle landscape photo of wind swept salt marsh under cloudy gray skies.
    Marsh Moods — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1.3 sec

    The winds blew stiff and true; 20+ mph sustained if I had to guess. The bluster working over Cedar Run Dock Road salt marsh out of the northeast. Marsh grasses undulating southward in a great pulsing bow, unable to hold sway against the rushing tide of air. Ceaseless the weather worked; gray clouds building from south to north, fought back only by the winds intent upon a rearguard action.

    By June standards temperatures were brisk. The skies were dark and brooding, and yet observing I could help not but notice the life and energy present. The greening salt marsh juxtaposed a dose of color and lightness against a looming scene. The bending marsh grass, most noticeable in the foreground, shows movement—shows wind. It is a testament to air power. This movement, too, depicts the green of new life renewing the marsh in spite of darkened gray skies. It is a fist of defiance against a marsh mood full of ruination.

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  • Hit the Pavement

    Hit the Pavement

    14mm wide angle sunset photo made at street level on an asphalt road surface between double yellow lines.
    Hit the Pavement — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Get low. You will come across this command often in your development as a shooter. It is especially common for us plying our trade in the landscape photography niche. Get low. Get the shot. Get the viewer in. Throwing a quick and dirty best guess out into the universe, I would ballpark I make some 75% of my landscape photos at a camera height around two feet. So yeah, I follow conventional wisdom to get low.

    Shooting on Dock Road a little over a week ago, about a minute or so after I made this shot, I decided to get low, all right. Hella low. The sunset was in max fire mode at a northwest exposure, which is in perfect perpendicular alignment with the west bound direction of the road itself. And so I used what my environment gave me—the asphalt. With careful placement of my camera on the road surface, spaced even between the yellow lines and using the road as a de facto tripod, I made seven brackets facing right into sunset supreme.

    The low as you can go orientation brings us to the literal ground floor. Terrapin turtle crossing level. This shrinks the viewer down, in turn amplifying the magnitude and prominence of the road surface. We are so close to the action in this shot, we encounter farsighted focus leaving our immediate contact with the road blurred. This allows the viewer to climb into the frame and scan down the road, ultimately finding sharp focus on what was a potent sunset burn.

    Leading lines help to further guide our vision. First and most obvious we have the center weighted double yellow lines. This sends us right down the frame. Added to that we have the converging lines of the two sides of the roads. Flanked by guardrails and power lines on the right side. This line work coupled with the smattering of houses along the horizon pulls everything to the vanishing point of the photograph. Here it all meets in the middle. Underneath the high drama of a sparkling sunset.

    Remember to get low to get down with great photography.

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  • Plane of Remembrance

    Plane of Remembrance

    14mm wide angle sunset photo over salt marsh and oxbow water flow with two white egrets standing in the water feeding.
    Plane of Remembrance — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/5

    Memorial Day 2019. We remember. Think upon the story of our lives and remember the ones who fought and died for peace. Our national story writ large on our sacred fallen. Throughout history honored souls of women and men offered everything to a cause greater than themselves. Yes, there is a paradox in fighting and dying for peace and freedom—but in a world of human debasement it is a fallacy in the greatest need of redress. Heroes of all color and creed step up to give it all. This is the living ideal of what America can be.

    My 2019 has been a dive into the past. Our martial past. Audio books have taken me on quite a journey. It began with a two excellent explorations of leadership: Extreme Ownership and The Dichotomy of Leadership. Jocko Willink and Leif Babin extrapolate the hard lessons learned serving with Seal Team 3’s Task Unit Bruiser during 2006’s Battle of Ramadi. Their learnings at the cost of lives to their brothers apply to business, life, and the human spirit. They enforce a critical lesson that leadership and personal ownership up and down the chain of command can overcome any obstacle in any walk of life. Even in Ramadi, then the most dangerous city in the world besieged by a terror force hellbent on holding ground at the total cost of civilian Iraqi and American lives.

    From there I pivoted to a rewatch of HBO’s excellent Band of Brothers. Immediately followed up with an audiobook listen of Stephen E. Ambrose’s eponymous accounting of E Company, 506th Regiment, 101st Airborne. An exploration of sacrifice, brotherhood, and hardship in the critical liberation of Europe from Nazi oppression.

    Next I took a dive off a cliff and began a study in the depths of evil. Starting with William L. Shirer’s tome The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich: A History of Nazi Germany. Shirer, a journalist on the ground in Berlin during the rise of the Reich shares lived experiences in and among the Nazi power base. I piggy backed this 57+ hour listen with the first two books of Richard J. Evans trilogy on The Third Reich: The Coming of the Third Reich and The Third Reich in Power. The two accountings have been nothing short of a descent into madness. As horrid and omnipresent as I assumed Nazi power always had been was somehow not strong enough. With cold, calculated, and controlled consent of the people in deference to Party, a complete and total shroud of evil was born in central Europe. Only to metastasize and spread east and west. Capitalizing on a thirst for power, redress for perceived World War I exploitation, fear of bolshevism, stark economic hardship, longing for authoritarianism, racial hygiene, and naked anti-semitism, the far-right ideology of the NSDAP took hold. It’s been a cold reminder of the absolute worst in humanity. It has affected me in ways I cannot articulate, but my mental discomfort is nothing. This is about those who rose up to fight and die against evil in its final form.

    Our thanks will never be enough. Our remembrance will never be enough. But then again patriots never made this about themselves. Yet our world would be unequivocally worse with your sacrifice. I leave you with Jocko Willink’s, Remember Me. Please listen.

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  • On the Side of Light

    On the Side of Light

    14mm wide angle HDR sunset photo featuring salt marsh, storm clouds, and anticrepuscular rays.
    On the Side of Light — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Sunset, oh how I have missed you. It’s been a long time since my last sunset. Months. Several months. We are talking near on four whole months. A quick look back at the archives has February 2, 2019, as my last trip out. Back when the old marina on Great Bay Boulevard found itself locked in ice. Yeah, it’s been a minute. No investigation required to know it’s my longest sunset dry spell since I began photo making in 2012.

    Two nights ago I hit up Dock Road with my girlfriend and her soon-to-be three year old daughter. It was a family affair and it was nice to be back at my old haunt with special people. Spring green is popping in the marsh and you know that has me excited. It adds intensity and dynamism to any composition. Storms were in the area and they came bearing dramatic sky gifts. The mix of fiery color, intense clouds, newborn marsh, and pastel anticrepuscular rays came together strong on the side of light. It was a stunning scene made all the better by a well placed reflection in the tide pool.

    Having been back out there I have rediscovered the burning desire to make more sunset photographs. I can’t wait for my next opportunity—and I will not let four whole months stand in my way this time.

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  • Ice World Ignition

    Ice World Ignition

    Explosive 14mm sunset photo over disused docks and frozen bay water.
    Ice World Ignition — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Tonight made for a proper sunset. The essential cadre rolled deep and even brought the support staff. There was snowpack, sea ice, disused dock pilings, and a painted reflection brushed by a solar goodbye burning out slow with smoldering intensity. It was fantastic.

    Sure the temperature was biting and the wind unforgiving. Of course leaving the house with a pair of gloves would have made perfect sense. Hey, even a woolen hat would have proved wise. Yet when the ice world ignites the fire inside burns passion red.

    This is winter at the beach. This is when the power sunset hits, when the seascape on our eastern flank locks in ice and casts a panoply of color. The marshes, bays, and coastal ways captured by cold, locked tight to the landscape despite battle from tidal forces. The power needed to freeze the land and stem the tide is striking. Cold, weather, nature—it all means business. A reminder of impermanence and subordination to big ‘N’ Nature.

    Cold as I was, I was beyond pleased to be out exercising camera tactics amid the cold splendor. It was obvious this was the best shooting conditions I’ve encountered in months, even longer. The most promising since late last summer when I made a bunch of great shots only to have a corrupted file transfer render all data unretrievable. That moment had left a sour taste in my mouth for months. This evening cleansed the palette and froze it all away.

    After a low output 2018, I am pleased with efforts and outcomes in 2019. I committed to making this a better year for my photography. I am delivering against the commitment. Writing about it here helps hold me accountable. It makes it more real. A commitment to myself and to you welcomed website visitor. Yes, you.

    With any luck it is a touch warmer where you are at, and you were able to enjoy this photograph in comfort. Cheers, and thanks for your support and attention.

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  • Gradient

    Gradient

    Wide angle blue hour photo over reflective bay water with motion blur.
    Gradient — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 0.5 sec

    Take wintertime day glow, a lazy shutter, a bit of hand induced motion blur, and throw them in the pot. Add a fresh pour over of Lightroom and let steep. Add a dash of hope and your cauldron will yield a striking gradient mirrored across the great blue void. Cutting its center is sun streaked poise rendered only at day’s end. Now plate your study in color, movement, and form; landscape as emotion, a mirror world reflecting hope and fear.

    So how did I make this shot? Quite simple, really. I capitalized on a day glow of intense blue to orange, calm Little Egg Harbor bay water, and my hands. With a smooth right to left motion parallel to the horizon I was able to introduce motion blur into an already minimalist tableau. I am drawn to the simplicity of this style of photo execution. It’s easy to get exciting over a high drama sunset with a slamming composition set off by first rate foreground, and don’t get me wrong, I love it, too. Yet there is something to being less. A hat tip to the understated—the introverts of the nature world. Perhaps it is my own predilection to introversion that brings me quite satisfaction in a far more subtle, nuanced world? Or maybe I am overindulging my self-importance behind the mask of understatement?

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  • When Winter Comes

    When Winter Comes

    14mm winter sunset photo made over frozen and snowy salt marsh.
    When Winter Comes — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    The onset of winter has me inspired. After a subpar shooting season in 2018, leave it to a modest snowfall to turn the tide. First came the photo I made at Stafford Forge—an inspired output that pleased the residents of your favorite social media platform. Two days later, when a fine splash of color made an appearance over the familiar expanse of Dock Road marsh, I was there, and I was ready. A calming sight—the serene scene. Ice creeping in atop staid tide pools, snow pack propping up marsh grass, and sublime pastels coloring the sky with a master’s touch.

    I had great company, too. My girlfriend’s two year old daughter made the trip with me. An excellent co-pilot if there ever was one. We hung out roadside taking in the bracing air and pretty pinks in an understated bonding moment. I even had her pop off a few shots of her own, hoping to bring joy to the next generation of photographers. It’s remarkable, really, the intensity and focus an untarnished brain brings to new encounters. I’m not sure where we lose that capacity as adults, but we are no doubt poorer for it. Oh for the wisdom of babes.

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  • A Window to Winter

    A Window to Winter

    Square format 14mm photo of fresh snow atop pine trees at sunset.
    A Window to Winter — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Somehow I made it through the entirety of 2018 without making a single photo trip to Stafford Forge. I know it was a down year for photo output, but sheesh. At least I am checking it off my list early in 2019, am I right? With fresh mid-January snowfall it was the perfect destination to capture the final light of day.

    The pines were magical. Cotton ball snow resting easy atop pine boughs as far as the eye could see. Fresh powder and a last gasp of golden pink light set a dramatic stage. More than the photography it was invigorating to stand outside in crisp, bracing air; taking in the unmistakable air of fresh fallen snow. There’s nothing quite like it. A true tonic for the soul.

    I was out shooting and catching up with Jonathan Carr—who turned 39 today, happy birthday, man—and we couldn’t help note how similar the whole tableau was to March 2015. A similar snow fell across the region and the skies broke right in time for a power play golden hour into sunset. I made three great shots that day, and you can seem them here, here, and here. That kind of setup never gets old, and I will take more of that, please.

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