Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: COVID-19

Best Photographs of 2020
Green Sight — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/6400
Green Sight | Captured: May 12, 2020 | Location: Ocean Acres, Stafford, New Jersey
I shot about my yard quite a bit this year. Easy access and all that. Perfect for a lockdown. My lilacs bloomed up nice this year, and I am a particular sort of pleased with the ethereal, dreamlike quality evoked here. It’s as though this bloom somehow belongs to the Fair Folk living in a parallel world superimposed atop ours yet somehow still eternally far away.
This Is Not Important — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
This Is Not Important | Captured: June 15, 2020 | Location: Cedar Run Dock Road, Stafford, New Jersey
Pockets of beautiful imagery and picturesque sunsets belied the extraordinary upheaval 2020 wrought. In the midst of a pandemic not seen in a century, centuries old issues of race and social justice exploded in death and protest. It is of critical importance we remember the importance of all that sacrifice and pain.
Working Class Hero — 100mm | f/4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1250
Working Class Hero | Captured: July 8, 2020 | Location: Ocean Acres, Stafford, New Jersey
Dark and brooding. A melancholy in monochrome. The ever faithful honeybee plying his craft to provide for the hive delivered through an indefatigable sense of duty. Understated is the power of bees. Here with stark contrast the sun’s sidelight shows a spotlight on our special little bee. His moment in the sun. Pollinate on, my friend, and be well.
Safe Haven — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 0.3 sec
Safe Haven | Captured: July 14, 2020 | Location: Cedar Run Dock Road, Stafford, New Jersey
Pulling shots is my jam. I’m not sure that’s a technical term, but it’s how I best describe the motion blur photographs I make by design on occasion. An easy sweeping motion left to right parallel to the horizon. Tis pulls the image in a way not unlike a painter taking a wide dry brush purposefully across wet paint upon a canvas. It brings movement, color, simplicity, and flow. I’ve made about a dozen or so of these by now, and this is by far my favorite yet. The color and stretch of the marsh, sky, and water is sublime. Someday I’d like to make of show of my best blurry pulled shots.
Peace and Pilings — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Peace and Pilings | Captured: July 18, 2020 | Location: Cedar Run Dock Road, Stafford, New Jersey
Simple. Symmetrical. Balanced. Beautiful. This square format production is either my second of third favorite photograph of the year. Either immediately behind or in front of Safe Haven. Coincidentally shot only days apart from the same location—where my parents keep their boat. There is real peace here. The colors all hit just right. The scene is calling out, imploring you to stay awhile and listen. Nature will always teach us.
Bloom Squad — 85mm | f/1.2 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/6400
Bloom Squad | Captured: August 1, 2020 | Location: Ocean Acres, Stafford, New Jersey
Thanks to the Carrs and the opportunity to make photographs of their adorable daughter’s first birthday, I got to play with the 85mm L glass. What a lens! Wide open and it is tack sharp, razor thin depth of field with bokeh for days. Yeah the glass is about the size of a grapefruit and weighs a ton, but damn is it one hell of a portrait lens. Testing it out in the morning I made this photograph of my purple coneflowers and I love the scene. A faerie world of flowers, blooms, and fanciful stories of full and well loved hearts. Someplace somewhere the storybooks are true.
The Gift of Winter — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
The Gift of Winter | Captured: December 13, 2020 | Location: Great Bay Boulevard, Little Egg Harbor, New Jersey
We end with power. My favorite photograph of the year, and for my money my best sunset photograph since 2015. It’s the spiritual successor to Ruinous Splendor, somehow recapturing the magic and energy. I never thought it was possible. Yet somehow twice the some spot at the same time of year a half decade apart and history found itself looping back upon itself. Time is a flat circle. This hobby will always teach you, always surprise you, and always make you humble.
Coda
It somehow seems wrong and callous to talk about the best of anything in the year 2020. A year unlike any other in our lived experience. A year brought low. Lessons of challenge, perseverance, self-reliance, loss, grief, isolation, prioritization, adaptability, change, upheaval, deceit, failure, wellness, and so much more served up in ample doses whether or not we cared to receive them. Each and every one of us challenged in unique, manifold ways. How will we emerge from the crucible? What choices and actions will we take in the wake of the circumstances and challenges we’ve faced? How will we respond? How will we come together? How will we again strive through the long dark walk home and thrive? These answers all set chained inside ourselves clawing at their fated fetters desperate for liberation. May your 2021 be better in every single way.
Retrospective
December 31, 2020
Up at Night
Up at Night — 14mm | f/2.8 | ISO 1600 | EXP 10 sec
COVID-19 has taken many things. Lives, livelihoods, lifestyles, and liberties all curtailed as we continue to confront an ongoing public health crisis. It’s been tough and there are few to argue otherwise. A lower tier robbery thieved by COVID is spontaneous fun. The need to social distance to keep group exposure minimized has taken away spontaneous fun. You know, the plans that didn’t exist until you get a text message from a friend like, yo, get here now because we’re all doing [insert cool fun thing here]. And boom, unexpected excitement dropped into your life; the best kind of fun. This tale has in no way told the COVID story. Homebound monotony has long held sway.
This changed for me on Thursday. Ben Wurst dropped a small group text to Jonathan Carr and me saying we should go out tonight for astrophotography. Initially I thought this was a nice sentiment, something fun in theory, but I did not expect it to shake out. I was pleasantly surprised to return from my run to see Jon was in and the game was on. Thursday night in the pines it would be.
Around 10:00 p.m. Thursday we all met up roadside on 539 south in Warren Grove to hike in about a quarter mile to the top of the world. The top of the world is a hyperbolic name given to a small hill outcrop on an otherwise flat bowl of pygmy pines. The pygmies are a unique set of stunted pines found in the southern part of the New Jersey Pinelands. Kept small by wildfire, these bonsai-esque pines stand low—most well under six feet tall. A small sea of mini trees standing sentry for centuries. It’s a cool sight, and this was my first trek out there since January 2016. It had been a while.
From here we tried our best at making astrophotography on a clear, moonless night. The visibility was excellent, and shooting stars dashed the night sky on regular intervals. Honestly, I didn’t even care about the photographs I was making, I was just happy to be out having unexpected fun with friends.
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December 12, 2020
Again?
Again? — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 400 | EXP 1/13
Is he posting this shot again? Yes. Think it’s time he finds, you know, a different angle at the very least? Also, yes.
I debated posting this photograph I made back on 25 August. It’s a an angle I have exploited on numerous occasions. And even though no two sunsets are the same, even I am growing worn thin by my lack of originality. (This coming from a notorious creature of habit.) Nevertheless I am rolling with it considering the rut I’m in and the insidious angst I feel. I am going through the motions and so my photos are going through the motions. Something about life imitates art.
Maybe it’s the comfort in familiarity that keeps me going back? Or maybe that’s little more than a double-edged sword. A safety net keeping me from breaking out and trying new things? Maybe it’s the slow churn of a global pandemic coupled with a deteriorating society fueling the angst? Maybe it’s the barrage of hot takes, baseless claims, and toxic passive aggression permeating social media post after social media post? Or maybe it’s the inevitable advance of fall? Or maybe it’s just me?
I’ve written before how this time of year weighs heavy on me—even in the best of times. Shortening days, the death of summer, the advance of the great browning. It all sets me on edge. I struggle to find comfort and solace knowing summer now sits an entire calendar year away. I’ve managed the past nine months or so with a one day at a time approach. Avoiding the pitfalls of thinking too much on an unknowable future. I must work to reclaim that mindset, cliché as it may be.
For anyone else out there struggling, worrying here we go again? Maybe it doesn’t have to be so hard this time? And better yet, maybe we’re far closer to something good than we could ever know? Keep hanging, y’all.
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August 31, 2020
Stop the Clocks
Stop the Clocks — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
The calendar claims today as 23 August 2020. I wish it would stop shouting Summer is OVER. What happened to time? March was about 93 days long, and each month since lasts about a week and a half—tops. Shattered is our perception of time. Easy days whiling about hours once spent on beaches and fields find replacements in anxiety, uncertainty, and fraying society. And it is with speed these insidious malfeasants, uninvited as they are, rob us of our time. Stealing our present and hoarding our future.
And yet we soldier on and endure. We bide our time, turn to our strengths and cultivate purpose to prepare for the renaissance. Time will call to order again. The arrow of time, never directionless, will reassert its dominion and the universe will unfold as it should. Build trust. Know faith. Foster humility. Learn to grow. Live to love. Make yourself.
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August 23, 2020
Safe Haven
Safe Haven — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 0.3 sec
Last night proved a stunning evening on the Cedar Run Dock Road salt marsh. Absolute idyllic mid-summer magic on the wetlands. Serene and sublime, a pristine atmosphere intent on peeling back layers of stress and worry. You would be hard pressed to put a price tag on this kind of therapy. Always look to nature when in times of great healing. She stands ever ready to render big magic into our lives. We must but take a moment to look and see.
I am blessed to have Dock Road. Long has it reigned as a safe haven. My go-to destination whenever I my heart, mind, and soul needs a respite. I have faithfully kept a COVID-19 journal daily since my first entry on 19 March 2020, which happened to be Day 4 of isolation. Last night marked Day 121 where I shared the following:
Tuesday, 14 July 2020
Day 121 — The Salt Marsh
Location: [redacted address] Manahawkin, NJ
Time: 9:48 p.m.
Visiting the Cedar Run Dock Road salt marsh has been an essential go-to for the entirety of my adult life. Whether for storm chasing, leisure cruising with friends, or a solemn place to cleanse the mind palate. The later has been especially true since I began my landscape photography journey back in 2012. This is my spot to take a mental reset and make beautiful photographs. It truly is a place of wonder mere miles from my home. Trust me, the salt marsh wetlands will lift any mood—especially so in summer.
Tonight proved stunning on the marsh. Absolute mid-summer perfection. Temperatures were mild, humidity at bay, with a slack breeze barely palpable. Pastel sunset colors danced about the lower third of the sky, and the waters of Cedar Run laid flat, creating a pristine mirrored reflection. In ambient aural beauty birds and bugs sounded in the distance, completing the tableau. This is how I will always remember the mid-Atlantic summers on the salt marsh of coastal New Jersey. Such an underrated—and under appreciated—ecosystem.
Get out there. Find yourself a safe haven. Pull your shot and streak the sky!
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July 15, 2020
Upright
Upright — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 800 | EXP 1/125
To remain upright in the best of times is not easy. To remain upright in the face of turbulent times is an imposing challenge. Besieged and bombarded our roots tremble as we hazard to withstand an unrelenting barrage. When little is easy stress takes hold in response to trauma and toxic stressors undermine our stability. Yet we must stand. We must challenge ourselves to dig in, to strive and overcome. To reject the convenient inclination to devolve to our base selves and turn on each other. In so doing turning on our better selves. Ask yourself, am I taking care to take care? What do I need to remain upright amidst 2020’s withering fire of such unrelenting fury—both natural born and self-inflicted? Let us stand together in mutual promise to fortify and support our better selves, and keep seated the scourge who lies beneath. In this way we stay upright together, leaning and holding our brighter selves as one. And if you don’t want to hear it from, well, listen to Bill and Ted.
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July 1, 2020
Out of Exile
Out of Exile — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
A weary traveller, chastened and humbled returning from isolation made his way out of exile to this sacred place of restoration and life. To the marsh he’d seen so many times before. The same marsh he’s photographed for more than eight years with dutiful care. To this holy marsh where centeredness and peace comes easy. It is at this place he bears witness to its cyclical grace of death and rebirth marked by its annual rise and fall. The comings and goings of its grasses, the arrival and departure of migratory sea birds, the summer flourish of bugs to feed the ecosystem, and all manner of life in between. It is the marsh of his youth that will god willing serve as the marsh of his golden years. It is the marsh to which he will always return when called out of exile.
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May 3, 2020
Home Again
Home Again — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/100
No one needs me to explain how COVID-19 has left us homebound and siloed throughout much of 2020. Whether in isolation like me or hunkered down others, we’re riding things out void of the communal comings and goings we took for granted. Who would have thought sitting in cafe sipping on a fresh cuppa would no longer be a thing? Yet here we are. Chastened and changed, and I sincerely hope for the better.
All this time home has brought with it both new and familiar things. Each appreciated in their own special way. The principle return to past glory is coming in the form of macro photography. I’ve discussed here before how formative macro photography was to learning The Way of the Camera back in 2012. I unloaded thousands—tens of thousands of exposures on the plants and flowers hanging about my yard. Sure hope they signed those consent forms. Anyway…
All this time at the 2020 homestead is reconnecting me to my roots and my local plot of earth. I’ve lived in this home since July 1993 (bought it off my parents in 2009), and I am back exploring every inch of the property. If for no other reason than my own sanity. I use the term property loosely as it’s not a big yard by any stretch. Yet my parents being the hobbyist green thumb enthusiasts they are had this place teeming with extensive flora exquisitely maintained. I let it go over the years (understatement), but this year, banked by Covid time, I’ve been putting in work about the place. Setting to rights a decade of neglect. It’s still unworthy of its prime, but it’s no longer an unmitigated disaster and that is something!
With the cleanup has come better conditions for flower and plant life to thrive. Giving me ample opportunity to make beautiful photos without having to break any kind of social distance mores. Insert win-win corporate jargon complete with stilted laughter here. It’s been years since I have spent this kind of time with my trusted macro lens. The 100 millimeters that have been there with me since the beginning. This old friend helped see me out of a heinous depression, and I will never forget how she’s here for me once again in my time of isolation. Thanks so much for teaching me patience, peace of mind, and self-reliance. And of course the ultimate thanks for gifting me a passion that keeps on exploring.
Yet I cannot wait for my first real chase of a smoldering sunset out on the marsh. In its own way that, too, will be a trip home again.
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April 26, 2020
Whispers in the Dark
Whispers in the Dark — 100mm | f/4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/50
2020. LOL, what?!?
Yeah so this post could go a lot of ways. Each a varying degree of sideways. First off, this is my first photo and blog post of 2020. What? To be precise, first photograph made with my Canon rig, uploaded onto my Mac, and published anywhere on the internet since ::checks notes:: December—of last year. It’s April and this is finally a thing. Yeah, I was slumping something fierce.
Oh yeah, there’s a pandemic on and we’re sheltering in place. I’m into my fourth consecutive week cloistered at home—sans people. An insidious infectious disease made itself malignant and turned fast moving infecting all populations. In 2020. What?
Families, friends, and people riding solo are pulling together and reprioritizing. It took a unique crisis yet we have a singular opportunity to reassess life, purpose, consumption, government, health and health care,—a comprehensive reimagining of society. It is time to challenge conventional wisdom. What is the future we want?
The exceptional thing about living through history is having, if only in a small way, the rare chance to shape it. By staying home, observing social distancing protocols, calling a friend, keeping a journal, checking on a neighbor, telling someone you love them, taking a walk, or making a photograph. Small acts when executed across communities and continents affect real change in response to an entirely new environment. Rough times may indeed be ahead, but we can pull together if we choose it. What will history say about us other than what?
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April 7, 2020