Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: cedar run dock road

Cedar Run Dock Road photography made by Greg Molyneux

  • Much and More

    Much and More

    Sunset photo of pastel colored clouds over dormant marsh.
    Much and More — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    After a week holed up in a downtown Philadelphia hotel it was invigorating to retreat to fresh air and wide open spaces. Backing up a spirited afternoon walk I snagged my gear and made for my usual Cedar Run Dock Road location. There’s something to be said for the familiar, for a mental safe haven that lends a respite by way of the known—not unlike an old shoe. Happenstance had me run into a friend down by the boat ramp. Five minutes of banter ensued cast in mutual appreciation of such a comfortable space. As we said our goodbyes it was time to make some photos.

    Tonight I broke from my standard workflow. Instead of dialing in a single composition and sticking with it as clouds come and go and sunset color falls away, I bounced from vantage point to vantage point. Making brackets as I went from seven different perspectives. The clouds were moving at pace and I hoped to get different looks as they reflected upon the many pools of the marsh’s sprawling tidal plain. Of course, I wound up selecting the photograph that is more marsh than pool, but so it goes sometimes. In today’s composition the balance is strong between the thick marsh grasses in the bottom left of the frame weighed against the thick tuft of cotton candy clouds in the top right of the frame. In the middle of these two elements sits a calm tidal pool at the balance point, completing the harmony. Beyond that, warm pastel colors energized an otherwise dormant scene on the marsh. Even in February signs of life still surge. Can you hear spring knocking?

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  • Golden Glow Before the Snow

    Golden Glow Before the Snow

    Golden hour photo lights the sky over calm bay water.
    Golden Glow Before the Snow — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/160

    You could say this photograph is the golden calm before the white storm. The spring tease before the winter freeze. Today southern New Jersey danced with the upper 60s but make no mistake—winter is coming. Here in the Mid-Atlantic we find ourselves sandwiched between unseasonably warm air, an arctic air mass, and a boatload of moisture ready to wring out on the Ohio Valley, Mid-Atlantic, and Northeast regions. Despite being a fast mover, snowfall rates approaching 3 inches per hour are not out of the question—nor is an embedded rumble of thunder. Cue Cantore. Atmospheric dynamics have loaded this cauldron and its been set to flame on its road to boil. Bring it, I say.

    Considering the current weather situation it was counterintuitive taking in the warmth as I stood along a section of seawall adjacent to Little Egg Harbor. The bay water sat calm with only the wrinkles of a slept in sheet stretched across an unmade bed. Fresh salt air and a false warmth had me thinking of little else but the spring and summer to come. As I casually made a few handheld exposures with my 14mm lens, some other photographers arrived on scene, long lenses in tow on the lookout for owls and other seabirds. I’m not sure their quest was successful, but considering the weather it was hard to call any time spent outside today a failure. Ah, I can still smell the sweet air.

    Today’s photograph is continuing something of a minimalist trend I’ve got going on. This marking four of my past five shots made handheld and relying on simple, unobtrusive compositions. I’m taken by the open feel and golden tones, accented by the gentle wrinkles reflecting the golden hour sky atop an easy going bay. Simple. Clean. Calm. Nothing overdone—just a wide open space for the viewer to explore. It’s good to remind ourselves that sometimes less is more.

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  • The Observer

    The Observer

    Sunset photo of rich pastel color over saltmarsh.
    The Observer — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    This title and post was made hours before sunset—hours before this photograph was even made. Only I did not know it at the time. Out for a spot of exercise this afternoon between meetings I had finished a light jog and was breaking things down with a cool down walk before getting back to work. With ear buds in and downshifting from jogging to walking I cued up the Introduction to Walking on Headspace. For the past two months I’ve been hitting the app everyday for a daily dose of meditation, and I was curious to hear whatever coaching Andy had when it came to mindful walking. It was much of the usual soft spoken steady support I’ve grown to know, encouraging listeners to bring themselves into the body—to bring their thoughts to the here and now. Comforted I listened. Relaxed I walked.

    As the short session wound down and I approached the end of my walk, Andy hit me with a resonate nugget. In dropping an anecdote about staying present to notice the world around you as you trod upon familiar ground, he noted that when you are present and move through focused on the moment the things around you that you see everyday are never twice the same. Through awareness you can walk down the same street, corridor, alleyway, or field of green, and if your present with yourself the moment will never appear a copy. To the observer each time will prove to be unique.

    As if the clouds suddenly parted a chord of resonance was struck, finely tuned to my experience with sunset photography. The simple truth that even as I revisit the same locations over and over again, the light will be different, the clouds will be different, the color will be different, the season will be different—I will be different. Photography has brought me into the body and into the present, to the one place life happens—free of the past and unburdened by the future.

    In the interest of full disclosure: This is not a paid or obliged endorsement of Headspace. I’m just really impressed by what it’s short meditative exercises have brought me these past few months. Now if you’ll excuse me it’s time for my evening session.

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  • Dormant

    Dormant

    Blue hour landscape photograph over dormant marsh grass.
    Dormant — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    This winter is dormant. This marsh is dormant. My memory card is dormant. My well adored landscape muse has up and left for more colorful climes leaving my inspiration dormant. As bleak as it seems our focus must be challenged to stay on task as we lie in wait for better days. We’re entering what I like to call the calendar dead zone. The two month stretch of winter that spans mid-January through mid-March. Here in the Middle Atlantic when the holiday hangover ends, and we’re left grinding it out through the long dark nights of winter; when the color is all gone and we’re left with little more than a brown expanse of would be life that annually checks out for a long winter’s nap. We on the human side of things are afforded no such dormancy and so we are left awake through through it all—trudging along color blind until spring’s rebirth—far away as it may seem.

    Yesterday I had hope things may spark off for sunset. All day long coastal New Jersey was treated to picturesque cloudscapes and crepuscular rays signaling some sundown potential. Unfortunately by the time I made it out to Dock Road the once formidable cumulus cloud features were squashed down to little more than low level pancakes—and I’m not talking about the big boys, we’re talking kid sized silver dollar flap jacks here. With minimal cloud action draping below 850mb it was obvious coloration was out of the cards. Despite the disappointment I took some solace in being out making photos in what has otherwise been a very unproductive month on the photo making front. Here’s to tomorrow.

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  • First Off

    First Off

    Sepia landscape photo of Cedar Run Dock Road salt marsh.
    First Off — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    First off I hope everyone enjoyed a relaxing, joyful holiday season, and that you’re primed and pumped for a memorable 2017. Say it with me now two thousand seventeen! Seriously, where does the time go? My brain is still somewhere in April 2007. But such is the way of things. Before we kick things off in this new year please take a look at my 2016 year in review—featuring my 12 personal favorite photographs from 2016—it’s always my favorite post of the year.

    Getting back to the present I realized it was the twelfth of January and I’d yet to make a photograph in the new year. In fact, I had yet to make a new photograph since December 21, 2016. A three week drought? Yikes. Anyway, I made it to Dock Road today just in time for sunset. Instead of going for the usual color approach, I opted for a sepia treatment similar to a photograph I produced back in November. I’m a fan of this monochrome hue and found it appropriate to leverage here. Nothing too crazy, nothing too fancy—just a means to get 2017’s photostream off to a sound start. Now onto number two. Cheers.

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  • Headlong to the Horizon

    Headlong to the Horizon

    Vertical orientation HDR sunset photo over winter marsh.
    Headlong to the Horizon — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    A few thoughts as we get cracking on this here post: Hot damn it was cold today. Snow may still be a twinkle in my eye but the first real shot of Canadian air is hardly a figment of my imagination. As my body struggles to adjust to colder climes I warm myself if only mentally by anticipating the great winter sunsets to come; can’t beat winter color, you guys.

    Also on the list of brain happenings while shooting—I’m pretty pleased with this vertically oriented photograph. I’ve talked about it many times before, and while it still rings true, these essential landscape photographer compositions do not come as easy to me. But I like today’s results.

    Next item up dealt with some pondering on whether or not I should open up comments on this here website again. I disabled them at least a year or so ago on account that there really weren’t any. Not unless you’re counting spam, of course. Perhaps it’s worth giving it another go? Of course it’s not like I’m in a position to solicit feedback from anyone regarding this decision considering comments are disabled, so, uh, yeah… Send a carrier pigeon or something.

    Lastly my thoughts are turning toward a coffee table book. Over the years several people have independently encouraged me to go down this route—especially over the past 12 months. The first dozen or so times I disregarded the idea in its entirety for a host of reasons. 1) Who would want it? 2) It’s a lot of work. 3) What if it sucks? 4) Who can I find to edit and reign in my babbling? 5) Who’s going to print it? 6) Related: what does the supply chain look like? 7) Seriously, who would want this? But after two years of full stop dismissal I am beginning to think it may be worth legitimate consideration. So now I am going to start chipping away at this seven points to see if this is a project worth pursuing. I’ve got all these photographs and all these words about them maybe it’s worth brining them to people’s homes. I’d say leave a comment and let me know how you feel, but yeah…

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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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  • Antoinette Only

    Antoinette Only

    Sepia landscape photo of phragmites and clouds at Antoinetta's Waterfront Restaurant.
    Antoinette Only — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/4

    Mayhaps, Marie, had the guillotine not intervened and the mechanics of time proved malleable, you may have found sanctuary here. Alas revolutions come and turbulent throngs shall be paid their pound of flesh just as Charon, too, must be paid. Never forget the will of the people, Marie, for they will not forget you.

    I’m mixing up a familiar motif going with sepia post processing treatment on this photograph. I could have went with my usual color approach but there’s something about the aged yellow monochromatic hue that tells a different kind of story here. I have photographed Antoinetta’s Waterfront Restaurant numerous times over the years, and I’ve always given it the full color treatment. Having gone down that road before I’m glad my gut wrenched me to sepia. Perhaps it was the eponymous Antoinette Only sign that turned my mind down a historical path? Scratching my subconscious to make this photograph look weathered and worn. Perhaps it’s a reflection of the cold unwelcome I felt shooting mere feet from a sign imploring me to keep out? You are not welcome here, sir. They’re an alienating thing, signs. A declaration of boundaries that while oftimes explicit ironically leave much open for interpretation—especially for the less secure among us. Who stakes claim to place? Who will come to usurp it?

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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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