Time Marches On — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/4 sec
2024 coming in hot! At this point years flip about as fast as single pages on a tear away calendar. It’s a gift to grow old. An opportunity to experience the relativity of time mounting years speed ever swifter.
Continuing my quest to rip through my 2023 backlog. I made this photograph at Dock Road on 30 November 2023. Happy to have another motion blur shot. I’m developing quite a gallery in this style, and it is a trend I will continue.
Obligatory it’s been a while. I have no idea what is going on with my photography these days. I find myself mired in this strange in between space of wanting to make more photos again, and an unwillingness to make any kind of time for it. This polarity and my habit of hesitation has put any chance of a break through into suspended animation. If I want to get back after I need to build back with discipline and active purpose.
Further complicating all this indecision is the fact I miss writing on this here website. If only for my own practice, having this space to put down my thoughts alongside my photography creates my own little paper trail. A small proof of my inner workings, breadcrumbs feeding my own development across the years. I enjoy the process of scouting the late afternoon sky, going to the marsh, framing an exposure, returning home to filter and process, and then to wrap it all up with a blurb that may or may not have anything to do with my image. It is this sounding pangs of this urge that call me back the loudest.
The Blind Side of Clarity — 35mm | f/5.6 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/5 sec
You don’t need me to tell you life is an all out blur these days. An all out conflagration of the senses; body, mind and soul blasted by a raging inferno of the world’s lit fuse. Our defenses bested, our heat shields destroyed. Systems are critical and who will quench us now?
It is here and now we must look to ourselves and to our small pockets of control. Let’s do what we can to keep things neat and tidy, lest the traveling embers of wonton destruction set our own backyards ablaze. Things may look and feel hopeless, with authoritarianism, strife, conflict, and death on the move. We must not allow such malevolent actors strip away the clear view to what matters most in this world—each other, our children, our communities. Instead of a sniping some stranger with a quick hit feel good response of toxic emotion, give yourself a moment or three to respond with the soothing power of love and grace. It is our kindness and compassion that will save the world.
Second Time Round — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/13
OK, so more like the hundredth… or three. Either way, if you’ll afford me the license of the British English use of round in around’s stead, I can proceed. This blurry pan shot demonstrates how technique significantly changes the look of two near identical photographs.
I made this blue hour photograph within a minute or so of my last posted photo—Winter Turn. Despite color, light, and composition being near identical, panning left to right renders a whole new feel. The image is darker, more intense. Perhaps even a touch brooding. The single exposure made while moving the camera deepens the purple, giving it a more sanguine tinge. More of the Tyrian purple reserved for royals and tyrants. It also darkens much of the snow pack tucked away in the fore- and middle-ground. There’s just enough highlight to let you know the snow is still there.
To touch on Winter Turn one last time: It’s another example subjectivity and surprises. That photograph far exceeded my own expectations. People seem to be all about, even though for me it’s only an all right shot. Not bad by any stretch, but hardly remarkable, either. Of course that’s only my opinion, and it’s a good thing my opinion doesn’t count for everything, even if it leads me back a second time round.
Short and quick post this evening. It’s late, been a long day, and I’ve got some maximum couch relaxation to do before calling it Wednesday. First week back at the grind and all that after a much needed end of year break.
South Jersey saw its first snow Monday. A true South Jersey express. The type of event where the bulk of New Jersey—geographic and raw population—goes about its day without so much as a flake. The southern third of the state saw anywhere from four to 12 inches, with my hometown Manahawkin coming in at about six. It was the perfect end to my two weeks off. I am, if nothing else, a certifiable snow lover, and therefor I am pleased.
Fast forward to yesterday evening (Tuesday), and I made my way out to see what was doing on the Dock Roadsalt marsh. I lucked out. The snow and ice formations spanned out to the horizon, with even the tide pools icing over. It’s been a few years since I had this look. As sunset moved into blue hour, the colors painted over pure relaxation atop the wintry scene. It was a long slow burner, too, with this set of seven brackets coming some 25 minutes after sundown. The lesson, folks: Don’t pack up and leave immediately after sunset. More often than not the real goods take time.
Hello website, I am back. Back to autumn. Back to September 25, 2021. To the same Cedar Run Dock Road evening where I made another motion blurpan shot photograph, Peace Where We Can. In a trick of light, The Line is cast in the moody blue tones of the eponymous blue hour. Meanwhile Peace Where We Can smolders in the waning embers of sunset. Now you might be saying so what? Well so what is that I photographed The Line first. Depending on the direction you look the last light of day refracts different. More so it changes by the moment. These fluid transformations require the greatest focus of observation. Move your eyes across the whole ring of the horizon less you never see what colors behind you.
Let’s talk nuts and bolts. This is a stripped down, minimalist image. It’s monochrome color scheme and open space allows the mind to range free. Your mind wants to build a boat to paddle out over to the far horizon. A razor’s edge at the end of the world. Is it a barrier? A gateway? A threshold? Is it the last refuge or the first place of welcome? Or maybe it’s just a place where people eat french fries? Well, it’s sort of all of that. It’s Long Beach Island. The line at the edge of my world since 1993. A place I’ve long looked out upon but never quite understood. Somehow always feeling a touch too far out to sea. My very own Tol Eressëa.
Peace Where We Can — 35mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/4 sec
Sitting here on a Thursday evening staring October in the face. Touching up some photographs. Typing up a blog post. Trying to relax.
At a MacBook Pro I make words, build phrases, and complete sentences. Backlit and soundtracked by the baseball game, moody blue lounge light painting the walls. Baseball game only ever means one thing in my world: Yanks vs. Whomever. Tonight’s Whomever being the young, powerful, and surging, Toronto Blue Jays. Locked in a late season struggle with a playoff berth on the line, this series finale has a season at stake. I can only hope the Bombers come out on top.
In my mind I think it feels nice to have a new photograph to share. I’ve favored a simpler process and minimalist composition of late. These motion blur style photographs in particular. Bringing movement into my presentation of the New Jersey coast gives me a different kind of voice. Softer, and less heavy-handed. A little less tyranny by the artist. I’m producing imagers distilled to more basic form, leaving the viewer with more space to imprint their own emotions, feelings, and memories onto their scene. This makes it simpler for everybody, and I like that.
Moments of respite have proven elusive, and we’d all do well to come together, embrace more humility, and find peace where we can.
So, who else is completely shot? Roasted slow, spinning over open flame and then twice baked in an oven or three. I am spent ash, fiery embers long sent to dust. A charcoal remembrance scribbled upon ever darkening cave walls of a collapsing mind. Once there was life here.
This corner of the internet has been quiet, eh? Rest assured all the noise has moved inside my head. Photographs have been hard to come by, and if I’m honest, the drive to make them has moved on. In short: this decade long hobby is down to fumes.
There’s little sense in making proclamations—declaring this experiment in creativity over. With luck a new spark will fire tomorrow. Yet I am willing to share my total uncertainty over how often I’ll foist the camera moving forward. I’m grateful to how much this unexpected hobby has given me these past 10 years. A near unbroken space of growth and calm. A cloistered enclave where my hamster wheel brain ceases its captured spin. Talk about a safe space.
That’s all gone now. What once restored life now saps strength. What once vented furious forces now yields to tectonic mountains of growing anxiety. There’s no more ensconced glacier of solitude to wear down the surging crags of my mind.
And still, may tomorrow bring with it the surprise of good fortune to turn everything around.
