The Life Spectrum — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Life has returned to the salt marsh. Sea birds eager to feed. Chasing down fish schools and insect hatches if not willing yet able to provide said feed. The salt scented breezes lend rhythm to sedge grasses reanimated with life. Few things stir the soul like the nascent green of marsh born anew. Fresh color courses with unmasked energy as the circle of life finds its zenith. Only then when paired with the golden hue of the late day sun does nature pull back the veil on life resplendent.
It was just so out on Dock Road yesterday. The culmination of light, life, and timing. A sublime joy found in the realization of a patient annual wait. For the next six weeks or so we’ll find refuge in the glory of the salt marsh come live.
Cracked and Cruel — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/160
Poring over Lightroom this morning with a fresh set of eyes it seems a solid chance I will publish upward of four photographs from yesterday’s Great Bay Boulevardgolden hour shoot. While the initial shot I posted happened right in the thick of ever changing weather, I thought it best to post the remainder of the set in sequential order. This shot shares the added benefit of having similar light to yesterday’s; the others will not share such hues. Without further ado let’s talk about chronological photo number one.
Here I present a serendipitous exposure—a bank error in my favor, if you will. I forgot I had autofocus selected on my 14mm lens, a remnant from a photograph made on my last shoot. Considering it had been a couple weeks I was ripe for oversight. Remember kids, always check your gear! What could have been a costly error wound up producing an unexpectedly suitable outcome. While the focus ring had an automated mind of its own, it brought sharp focus to the center of the frame—keying on the skeletal remains of what I can only assume were once vivacious mussels—vivacious as far as bivalve mollusks go, anyway. From this unintended area of focus the sharpness decreases as it moves out throughout the rest of the frame, becoming increasingly soft at the edges adding to the sense of ruin.
Now, if you’re asking yourself how would have I made the shot had I been paying attention and took back control of my focus? Well, I would have gone with my standard play of hyperfocal distance, leaving the focus ring set a hair left of the infinite line. This would have rendered an even sharpness throughout the whole frame. In this case I think the accident is better. Camera’s computing power: 1, Greg Molyneux: 0.
Finally, a design choice I consciously made with this image came in post-processing. I’m talking about the crop. The long spanning boardwalk in the foreground had me thinking go aggressive from the get-go. With that I cropped into a very wide 3:1 ratio—my second such photo using said ratio. This brings the poor mussels situation front and center, greeting the viewer with the immediacy of the scene. This exposure was made only about an inch above the boards and this drives home the intimacy.
Strange weather has brought itself to New Jersey. In typical Mid-Atlantic March fashion we’ve seen all four seasons this month and we’ve yet to cross the Ides of March. Yesterday we saw temps approach 70 while today much of the state was greeted with slippery roads and heavy wet snowfall. Once this morning’s system moved through some snow squalls began to fire across the region—even with reports of thunders snow in Pennsylvania! You may be looking at the photograph above thinking huh, that sure looks like a thunderstorm and you wouldn’t be far off base. Snow squalls, unlike most other types of winter events, are caused from instability in the atmosphere—the same kind of dynamics that drive thunderstorms in spring and summer—unstable air with plenty of room for atmospheric lifting and you’ve got the same kind of setup, only here you’re greeted with a brief period of heavy snow.
In between about four rounds of intense snowfall over a 60 minute span, I was able to hop out of the car and make some photographs of what was a full stop dynamic sky. It’s no exaggeration to say every five minutes rendered an entirely different palette of clouds, color, and light. It was something to behold, albeit intense and cold. Considering the speed with which I needed to move around the old marina, I ditched the tripod and went exclusively handheld today. You’ll note the ISO 400 with this photograph as I needed to speed up my shutter to get to an exposure of 1/60 so as not to risk blurring the photograph with unsteady hands. I switched between my phone when the snow was heaviest, and my main camera when the precipitation stopped and the light came out to play. I’ll be posting a few more shots from this evening over the next few days, but I figured it best to get things started with the heavy hitter from a dramatic light perspective.
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.
Who Goes There? — 35mm | f/5.6 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/800
Footprints? Footprints on the sand dune? That’s prohibited, yo. Photographic evidence would suggest recently someone was out and about on a section of berm otherwise left perfectly windswept along the beaches of Loveladies, New Jersey. Judging by the small size and short gait I’m going to guess this was a child’s work. Fortunately it was one little path of a mere 20 steps or so running close and parallel to the beach entryway. As best I could tell no harm was levied against any wildlife in this endeavor. So as not to seem I’m casting righteous judgement from an ivory tower, I’ll admit the temptation to cross the barrier and traipse into this untouched land is strong. I myself had a moment of weakness yesterday as I thought, if only I could get closer to that little dollop of dune grass you see to the left of this photo in the middle ground. Adherence to rules shoulder angel was able to defeat go ahead no is looking pitchfork guy. Crises averted.
Putting that lesson in moral conflict behind us, these footprints I’ve been going on about lend a suitable foreground element to the composition. Reminiscent of a snow photo from two years back, the small section of prints brings more to the story. Who was here? What were they doing? This brings a human interest to the piece—a small reminder we the people populate this natural world and leave downstream effects in our wake. Some positive, some negative—and so goes our story of progress. Fits and starts. Two steps forward and one step back. This is not an admonishment as we are only human and perfection is better left to a more ethereal realm.
Before we close this out, if you’re ever looking to get up on the dunes in a compliant fashion, keep your eyes and ears open for a volunteer day when our berms are being cleared of refuse, or reinforced with dune grass or old Christmas trees and sand fence. Local organizations could always use more helping hands.
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.
Your eyes do not deceive you. This is a blurry photograph. Its execution by design. Why? you may ask. While the question gets right to the heart of it, my answer makes up with simplicity what it lacks in profundity. Personal style. As simple as I like it. Every now and then when I am out shooting I will take the camera handheld, hold it out in front of my chest at a comfortable arm’s length, and rotate at the hips panning from left to right parallel to the horizon at an even pace. During the rotation I will depress the shutter to create an image that introduces motion blur, intentionally removing sharp focus from the exposure.
While it’s hard to articulate exactly why I like this atypical landscape I think it comes down to a few attributes. First is movement. Motion blur adds a rotational element giving the viewer a sensation of spin. Look up at the clouds. Do you see the parabolic swoop from left to right that plunges downward toward the horizon at the center of the photo? Good. Notice how its inverse arcs with a rainbow arch at the bottom of the frame? Perfect. If you drew a line vertically in the center of the photo it would appear as though this image is spinning like a top. Reflective of the earth itself spinning about its axis. For me it’s a photographic reminder that we’re all objects set constantly in motion.
Second is form. When you strip away a photograph from its sharply focused constituent parts you’re left with its raw elements. Its shape. Its essence. With the sharpness gone you don’t have to become bogged down in the details. Instead I invite you to take in the elements of the photograph on a more holistic level. What do you see in this photograph even though you can’t see it well? The clouds? The tide pool? Or is it a pond? Is that marsh? A wheat field? Or something else? How does your mind fill in the details? I suspect our answers may differ as our own preconceived notions will render this image to our own bias. Is that a house to the left on the horizon? A car? Maybe a boat? These questions, are they necessary or are they beside the point? Like this photograph the answer is purposefully blurred.
Fire on the Horizon — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/60
This photograph is raw. Hardly the polished HDRlandscape propped up by a firm tripod and bracketed exposures I usually produce. Here things are basic and flawed. As intense golden hour light poured over the Cedar Run Dock Road marsh on Sunday I was having a ball walking around popping off single frame hand shot exposures. It’s liberating to break away from the stationary tripod life sometimes. Pacing the roadside back and forth my eyes settled upon a pool of water wedged between the road’s shoulder and the marsh itself. A few inches of fresh rain left plenty of water throughout the wetlands, and the reflection on the still puddle commanded my attention. From there the process was pretty low-tech—squat low and place the camera about two inches above the water level, roughly a foot away from the edge of the marsh grass and squeeze the shutter. I wanted to capture a blown out sun and lens flare through the grass while capturing clouds in the water’s reflection. I am pleased with the quick execution of an otherwise spontaneous plan.
This lyrically inspired photo title goes to the excellent reggae band, Stick Figure. “Fire on the Horizon” is track one off their 2015 album, Set in Stone. Kudos to Ben Wurst for cluing me in to this band. Solid grooves, folks. Solid grooves.
