Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: cedar run dock road

Cedar Run Dock Road photography made by Greg Molyneux

  • Past Glory

    Past Glory

    14mm portrait orientation photograph of a fiery late November sunset over the Cedar Run Dock Road salt marsh. Yellow, orange, and red hues paint the clouds, marsh grass, and still waters, marking a sublime tableau.
    Past Glory — 14mm | f/9 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Here we are, or here I am, anyway, whiling away an unremarkable Friday night in mid-February, cracking a beer or three, looking through old photographs. Overthinking my overthinking. Trying to unwind after another week on the grind. I’ve been sitting on this photograph since November. It’s from the last batch of pictures I made in 2021, and it’s sat in the digital dustbins since. Somehow processed and ready, but sitting on ice. The Lightroom equivalent of all dressed up with nowhere to go, I suppose.

    Somehow this high powered sunset sat on indefinite hold. In a way I am glad. It’s given me something to do this night. I’ve been itching to make photographs these past few weeks, but there’s been a bit of a lull in the natural light show. To wit: hooray for the unposted backlog. All this has me thinking—what other hidden or forgotten gems remain lingering in my hoard? For the longest time I enjoyed the process of making photos and immediately moving on to this next round. A real never look back approach—something entirely anathema to my typical modus operandi. Yet now I’m questioning the current validity to this application. Does it still serve me? What of all the other past glory I’ve let slip through the five hole? Should I revisit the thousands upon thousands of photographs to see what’s hiding in not so plain sight? I honestly do not know, but for tonight I’m sure glad I did.

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  • Second Time Round

    Second Time Round

    14mm blue hour photo using panning motion blur to create a dark, painterly effect of Cedar Run Dock Road salt marsh.
    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.

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  • Winter Turn

    Winter Turn

    14mm winter salt marsh photograph at blue hour. Snow and ice dominate the dormant marsh grasses and tide pools as restorative pastels of pink, blue, and purple paint the whole scene.
    Winter Turn — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    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 Road salt 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.

    Lucky me, more snow is in the forecast for Thursday overnight into Friday. Another quick hitter event with South Jersey set in the cross hairs. It’s January and that means little more to do than sit back and take in the winter turn in stride.

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  • The Line

    The Line

    35mm blue hour photograph with the bay in the foreground and a razor thin strip of Long Beach Island in the background. Panning and a slow shudder brings motion blur into the peaceful, minimalist image.
    The Line — 35mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 0.4 sec

    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 blur pan 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.

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  • Be Here Now

    Be Here Now

    14mm wide angle sunset photo made over a browning late fall salt marsh. Cotton candy pastel clouds stretch across the sky in all directions, mirrored in tide pool reflections.
    Be Here Now — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Here’s a little break from the motion blur pan shot motif I’ve been running with of late. A return to the familiar if you will. Tack sharp sunset shots from the salt marsh with loads of unwanted alliteration. The old familiar. Like putting on a well worn pair of jeans everything feels as it should. Comfortable. Familiar. Ready.

    I made this photo on November 7, and as this image suggests the first sunset of daylight standard time was, in a word, lit. 360 degrees of pastel wonder. Cotton candy gossamer stretched across the sky. A big warm blanket ready to welcome you home. The kind of bed canopy you wish you had.

    This is like couch time after a long day of work. And seeing how there’s been long work days a plenty, and I finally got myself a couch, well, you’re stuck with similes like this. But don’t worry, fans of said motion blur pan shots, I made some of those on November 7, too. I will look to have them up and on this here blog in the coming days. In the meantime I do hope you enjoy this precursor to the powerhouse sunset season that is winter.

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  • Shinespark

    Shinespark

    35mm motion blur sunset photo of New Jersey salt marsh in autumn. Panning creates a left to right streak blurred abstraction of Samus Aran's shinespark racing across the sky.
    Shinespark — 35mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 0.3 sec

    Warning: Incoming middle aged Nintendo fanboy nerd alert post coming in hot. Metroid Dread launched a week ago today, and holy smokes I still can’t believe it. Mainline Metroid. In 2D. A new release. On a console. In the year of our Covid two thousand and twenty one?! Oh. My. God. I cannot.

    I’ve been tearing through Planet ZDR each night ever since. Headphone cans fixed snug. Living room chair. Locked in. Side scrolling glory taking me from one power up to the next, with sinister bads set to destroy me at every turn. Metroid at its best is a masterclass in environmental storytelling. The visual design signaling desolation where the native flora and fauna make it clear you stand alone. Isolation and hostility are the only constants. The entirety of the world wants to see you dead, drawn and quartered, wholly unworthy of the vacuum of space. And damn is it so good, and so hard, and so good. Samus never controlled anywhere near this good. The developers at MercurySteam crushed it. The game is hard, yet fair, and over time Samus romps to such power and heights, a triumphant reward for all the tribulations and Game Over screens. Clack-clack, here comes an E.M.M.I. Did I mention this game is good?

    So what in the hell does that have to do with this post, photograph, or website? I’m here for the pretty stuff not this geekspeak worth at least 12 noogies and 20 minutes in a locker. Well one of the moves legendary intergalactic bounty hunter Samus Aran acquires in her serial planet storming romps is the speed booster. Along with said speed booster comes the ultimate boon to Metroid speed runners the world over: Shinespark. Speed boost to shinespark sends Samus hurtling at meteoric speeds, turning her into a literal tunnel busting speed bullet. Glowing like a comet streaking across the sky all you see is a luminous blur of pure energy and awe. And that’s this photo. Samus streaking across the horizon left to right. A sunset shinespark blazing into night.

    Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a game to play.

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  • Lone

    Lone

    35mm panning shot photo of a New Jersey salt marsh at sunset. Late summer green marsh gives way to orange and yellow hues in a landscape picture blurred by motion.
    Lone — 35mm | f/5.6 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/6 sec

    The space between solitude and loneliness is a chasm of untold depth and paradoxical closeness. Two simultaneous contrasts holding true together. An oxymoron somehow leaving us near and far, in the same space at the same time. Reach out with an outstretched arm from either side and would be fingers of welcome near on touch. Michelangelo knew what he was doing atop a small chapel ceiling of some renown.

    Yet between this space sits a rift, vast and brooding. A jagged cleft of ineffable depth. It is unseeable, unknowable. It is perilous. Our own earthly black hole, it, too, leaving no possibility for escape. Like its cosmic counterpart, it’s a barrier which may as well be infinite. And yet to the observer much is open to interpretation with the observer filling in their own story. Left to imprint their bias onto the station of others. We think we see what is happening, and yet, we do not see. All because this proximal closeness between unbreakable loneliness and fulfilled solitude somehow coexist.

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  • Peace Where We Can

    Peace Where We Can

    35mm blue hour photo with motion blur and slow shutter speeds bringing paint brush movement to the shimmering bay water and soothing skies.
    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.

    #YankeesOnly

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  • Blue Too

    Blue Too

    14mm wide angle photograph of an ox bow feature on Cedar Run Dock Road's salt marsh at blue hour. A hint of pink clouds twinkle in the watery reflection.
    Blue Too — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1.0 sec

    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.

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