Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: 35mm

All photographs tagged here have been taken with a Canon EF 35mm f/1.4L II USM Lens

  • Streetlight Delight

    Streetlight Delight

    Low key black and white photo of heavy snow lit by streetlight.
    Streetlight Delight — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 1600 | EXP 1/125

    A boy’s fascination runs deep. For as long as I can remember streetlight worship of steady snowfall has been a most welcomed seasonal companion. Growing up obsessed with snow I would eagerly strike days from the calendar in anticipation of winter weather. Winter was magic, and snow the tangible proof. Countless hours I’ve spent whiling away watching snowfall from any window that would have me. The daylight hours afforded easy, unobstructed viewing of my favorite weather. Come night fall, however, the snow scaled back to a more demure display. Hidden by darkness only in streetlight could I once again lay reassured eyes upon the flakes.

    And so I would watch for hours on end, eyes focused sharply between finger wide gaps in the window blinds. No curtain was safe, no window dressing untouched as I bounced from window to window, streetlight to streetlight, maintaining an ever watchful eye on the falling snow. Mixed with the sense of wonder, small fits of worry would work in as I’d fret over the snow letting up. Inevitability taught me early what is good must always end, and so I took to my post with purpose in hopes to maximize as much snowfall watching as possible. Sensible adults would often chime in with raised brows noting I’d grow out of this first love with age and responsibility. Wait until you have to drive in it, they said. Wait until you have to shovel it, they said. First came the shoveling responsibilities, and I loved it—still do. Then came the driving responsibilities, and I loved it—still do. I suppose Miss Snowfall is a keeper, fickle as she may be.

    All these memories came flooding back last night as I walked under the streetlight amidst a snow globe style snow squall. For 20 minutes my hometown was transformed into a convective array of heavy snowfall. Precipitation moved in and out just as a warm summer storm, but for a few minutes at least I was kid again standing tall at all those windowsills.

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  • Mind Your Bridge

    Mind Your Bridge

    Black and white photo of acoustic guitar bridge.
    Mind Your Bridge — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 800 | EXP 1/80

    Photographs have been hard to come by in 2017. We’re charging through January and this marks photo number three. Rough—suffice to say I need to pick up the pace. Here I was on a cloudy Saturday, desperate for a muse and grasping at straws, so I made a handful of frames of a Martin acoustic guitar using a wide open aperture on my 35mm lens if only to remember what it’s like. I didn’t even have the explicit intention of coming away with a photo for the website, I just needed to get my hands on the camera.

    A day or two later I finally began grappling with some post processing decisions. Thanks to strong contrast I opted for a black and white product. Upon closer inspection I wanted to hone the viewer firmly on the guitar bridge, and so for the first time ever I exceeded a 2:1 crop ratio going all the way to 3:1. For those of you saying, uh, what? this explains why the image is so wide—instead looking more like a panoramic. Specifically, a 3:1 ratio means that for every three units on the x-axis (horizontal), there is one unit on the y-axis (vertical). For a baseline, most of my photographs are displayed at a 3:2 ratio. Jargon aside, I’m down with the end result as it brings the eyes right where I want them.

    Taking a step back to talk about something more important than my photos: I hope we can push past our differences to build bridges that connect together our universal common ground. We’re all traveling on this spaceship Earth together—passengers and custodians of the future.

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  • I Look at the Floor and I See it Needs Sweeping

    I Look at the Floor and I See it Needs Sweeping

    Cross processed photo of an abandoned shack left to decay.
    I Look at the Floor and I See it Needs Sweeping — 35mm | f/2 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/40

    You’ll find no nature here. Only aged remains of a disued shack left to dereliction. What happens when we’re gone? When all else fades but the ruins of a life gone by? When the fire has gone out and time comes along to reclaim fashioned resources back to dust? Undefeated is time. The second law of thermodynamics tells us so—entropy mandates decay of any and all things found in a closed system over time. This is why a famously felled Humpty Dumpty was never put back together again. Ironically human progress shields us from this fact. Civilization throughout the ages has achieved greater and greater levels of order, enterprise, and design when in reality we build our great monuments of progress to cast baseless doubt on the truth—incremental and inevitable disorder and decline. The next dark age waits just around the corner. Just as a great castle fortress was built high atop the hill only to be blast asunder from some new armament built only to destroy. Always forward is the arrow of time. Always locked in the battle of life, death, progress, and decay.

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  • Before You Go

    Before You Go

    Golden hour photo of a Japanese Maple with autumn red leaves and smooth bokeh.
    Before You Go — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/800

    After last night’s negative tilt trough supreme wrought a 30 degree temperature drop; rain, snow, and sleet; and gusts of winds the Anemoi would be proud of in the span of roughly three hours these leaves are now gone. But 24 hours ago they were still here, so hey, maybe almost does count? Such is the onslaught of winter. One minute you’re hanging around LBIF dropping off photos on a 66 degree day and the next minute you’re running for the coat closet. Weather mood swings be damned, I’m happy I got to see my first flakes of what I hope will be a good old fashion snow-down for the winter of 2016–2017. Big snow, people—big snow. Measured in feet. (Meters would be even better.) I’m what they refer to in nerdy weather circles as a cold weather snow weenie. I’ll own it.

    As for this photo it’s a bookend of sorts. Made one week ago it’s something of a mirrored close-out to I Saw Red which was made back in April when this very maple was in spring bloom. This tree of mine makes for a great subject as 1) it looks cool, and 2) it sits right outside my front door standing sentry at the House of Greg. This keeps things easy. Just load up the 35mm lens, set the aperture wide open, and step outside in my soft pants to squeeze off a few frames. It also gives me a chance to work on my vertical orientation game which I often ignore. Many a skilled New Jersey area landscape photographers do a great job exploiting the fall and documenting its seasonal change. As you’ll note by my lack of autumn type leafy photographs through the years you can surmise I have been measured and left wanting in this arena.

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  • Momentary Lapse

    Momentary Lapse

    Sunset photo of a rising supermoon over gentle waves of Barnegat Bay.
    Momentary Lapse — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1600

    Two moon shots in a row? If you’ve been following my work for any length of time you know moon/night photography isn’t an all too common occurrence in this house. It’s not that I don’t love me some moon, it’s just that I lack the requisite gear to make some hay in this department. Long lenses—telephotos—are not (in) my bag, baby. Yet here I am backing up Saturday’s lunar landscape with another moon sunset from Sunday; and as I am sure you’ve heard ad nauseum it was the start of supermoon central on the internets. For the next 24 hours Facebook and Instagram were inundated with giant orbs from our number one satellite. It was a lot like Majora’s Mask only less cool and with a worse soundtrack. Never one to want to miss out on the party I present you my contribution: photographed at 35mm overlooking Barnegat Bay from Barnegat Bay Beach in Barnegat, New Jersey. (Say Barnegat again, Greg. Please.)

    Now if you’ll allow me to enter critique mode. Photographing handheld from the bay beach my intention was the get a front focus shot of some lime green mossy stuff strewn about the shoreline. I was shooting wide open at f/1.4 going for shallow depth of field where the middle ground and back ground faded away into smooth bokeh. Most of my shots Sunday were made with this in mind. However, I did pop off a few off frames where I focused out to infinity to bring clarity to the middle ground and back ground. Instead of stopping down to f/5.6 which increases overall sharpness while simultaneously pulling the acceptable range of focus closer to the viewer, I stayed wide open with the aperture. This is why the foreground is somewhat out of focus here. None of this is wrong, of course, and frankly the movement from out of focus and into focus creates a different kind of mood with the photograph. I am just conceding that if I went into this shoot with the goal of producing a sharp landscape, I absolutely would have used my tripod and stopped down to f/5.6 or f/8 instead of going with wide open handheld action.

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  • Placebo

    Placebo

    Sunset photo of a reflective moonrise over marsh amid pastel clouds.
    Placebo — 35mm | f/5.6 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Gazing east from Cedar Run Dock Road during last night’s sunset while simultaneously treated to a 96% waxing gibbous moonrise was exactly what the doctor ordered. To far away Tranquility Base, detached from the present day reality of this earthly world, I salute you. Prior to yesterday’s sexy sky business, landscape photography wasn’t even on my radar. Conditions were crisp and cool all day with nary a cloud in the sky. Besides that I was tasked with making some afternoon family photographs—gasp!—of my friend and her parents. (Two super cute doggies in tow.) Despite my total lack of experience the shoot went well enough—I hope. Being out there, exposed outside of my comfort zone yet surviving, had an added benefit: the development of high level cirrus clouds building toward the east. The rusted gears of my mind began to turn and clank.

    Leaving the shoot and driving over the LBI causeway bridge back toward the mainland I was hemming and hawing on whether to shoot and where to go. To the west the sky was mostly clear so a traditional sunset seemed out. To the east the clouds kept calling. Further down Route 72 West the exit to Route 9 South approached—reflexively right blinker went click, click, click—I suppose Dock Road it is. Driving down the isthmus and out onto the marsh an unexpected wrinkle was thrown into the fold; a big fat mostly full moon was a few inches over the eastern horizon and the plot began to thicken. Even though prime pastel cloud color was good 20 minutes away, it was a lock that the moon would sit large and in charge amid a cotton candy sky. As an added bonus the wind had died and the water was calm and reflective. For a chilly evening in November everything came up Greg with a sugar pill dose of much needed calm and pleasure.

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  • Tend Your Craft

    Tend Your Craft

    Black and white photograph of Jeff Ruemeli working a soda kiln.
    Tend Your Craft — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 160 | EXP 1/30

    So this is how pots are made—or fired, anyway. Last night I dropped on by the old yacht club—Long Beach Island Foundation (not a yacht club). Ceramics lead guy and all around bearded fellow, Jeff Ruemeli, was working the soda kiln with an eager assistant whom I do not know well enough to use her name without permission. Over the next few hours I watched the taring of scales; encountered esoteric recipes as ingredients were weighed, measured, and mixed. Saw water boil—with my own eyes! Even listened to some Journey. Then there were (was?) the burritos. Not the edible kind which was a real bummer since I was hungry enough to eat a fist. Apparently after you mix all the powdered chemical ingredients with the boiling water you lump them out onto old newspaper and wrap them like burritos. Cool enough from a learning perspective; hardly satisfactory from a hunger perspective.

    Once these machinations were complete I made for my trunk and grabbed my camera—also not edible. Behind LBIF we stood around the soda kiln in almost ritualized fashion. My mind turned to our ancestors from a far distant past. There is something quite literally ancient about pottery. While I don’t know much I do know this—its roots are firmly entrenched in a past long gone, and little has changed throughout the millennia. Was this how it was for Athenian potters? Laboring tirelessly under the yolk of a towering Acropolis and roundly dismissed in their time? Like too many other masters their skill and higher purpose was not recognized until they had long passed on. To the vested Athenian these were mere vessels for keeping grain and wine. Complete myopia beyond functional utility. Historical perspective brings a greater meaning to the here and now where three people who have never been in your kitchen found themselves on Long Beach Island honoring proud traditions born of misunderstood beginnings.

    Back in the present and on my way home I stopped for Taco Bell.

  • Backyard Bouquet

    Backyard Bouquet

    Square format low key cross processed photograph of a quick fire hydrangea crown.
    Backyard Bouquet — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/3200

    I am suffering from an itchy shutter finger. Photos have been few and far between lately, and once I saw a spot of afternoon light touch upon my backyard quick fire hydrangea I popped on the 35mm and squeezed off a few shots. I set my aperture to a wide open f/1.4 in hopes for soft focus and smooth, buttery bokeh. Going for a dreamy feel to wash over weary eyes I imported exposures into Lightroom where cross processing seemed the obvious choice—I wanted to bring out a red warmth through a diffuse hue. Intentional soft focus at the center fades away to increasing blur as the eye works out toward the edges in all directions. Up is down, left is right; a square format crop further facilitates this spatially agnostic end game.

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  • Circular Motion

    Circular Motion

    Low key square format black and white photo of a circular form sculpture.
    Circular Motion — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/3200

    Circular motion will be something of a recurring theme as we spiral toward the 2016 Labor Day Weekend along U.S. the eastern seaboard. Recently named Tropical Storm Hermine is spooling up in the Gulf of Mexico as she creeps slowly toward the Florida Panhandle. While it’s hardly locked down there’s growing consensus that after initial landfall the storm will look to spin its way up the east coast, potentially wreaking havoc on weekend plans, fresh hairstyles, and coastal communities up and down the seaboard. Prolonged rain, wind, and tidal surge will open the door to disruptive conditions for the foreseeable future. Such is the way of things, the way of the weather.

    Subject to storm surge and flooding is LBI’s own Long Beach Island Foundation—also known as the place I made this photograph. Scattered about the grounds are a litany of visually appealing and thought provoking sculptures. I was particularly drawn to a vertical array of circular forms orderly arranged on a ladder type apparatus. If my memory serves me the whole piece was in the ballpark of three feet wide and nine feet high. I tucked in close with my 35mm lens set wide open at f/1.4 to create a shallow depth of field image that accentuated the form and contrast of the circular disks. This one is all about form fleshed out through light and shadow play.

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