Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: hdr

  • Archive Oversight

    Archive Oversight

    Fiery winter sunset photo over marsh
    Archive Oversight — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Join me if you will as we travel back through our internet time machine to revisit January 20, 2014. A rather cold day if I recall. Tonight I broke off from my normal photo workflow to take a stab at reprocessing an old shot from the early days of this website. It’s something I’ve never done before—up until now I have not looked back when it comes to my photography. And while I clearly remember my enthusiasm about this Dock Road photo back in the day, it has become clear to me over time that my processing game has improved. Eager to tone down the bombastic HDR I had thought I’d go ahead and apply my current techniques to make a better, more realistic image. Instead I found something even better.

    Somehow I found this photo, which not only is stronger compositionally than its counterpart, it also has better colors igniting the sky. I mean just look at those purples. Before I even went about reprocessing the photo I went through all my online archives to see if I had posted this shot. I assumed it had to be online someplace. I even had this marked with five stars in Lightroom, something I rarely do. Yet everywhere I looked this shot didn’t show up. Inexplicably I missed it. Now, I had originally processed this photo using my old bad habits and that was sitting in Lightroom. Reborn I ran it through my current workflow to render this new found firestorm. What a pleasant find.

    There are a few lessons to unpack here: 1) With enough practice you’re going to improve over time making it worth revisiting some old favorites you’ve already made; and 2) Sometimes, when we’re caught up in the moment of going through a day’s photographs we may overlook something. Don’t be afraid to retread and old crossing to see what treasures may be hiding in plain sight. One thing’s for sure, this has me wondering what other photographs I’ve “missed” over the years? Worthwhile shots left to sit around collecting digital dust bunnies in my Lightroom catalog. Of course sifting through tens of thousands of photographs isn’t exactly an afternoon’s work.

    Something I am now chewing on is whether to revisit some old shots occasionally on this website. Perhaps start up a redux series? It wouldn’t be too often, but there are some images I’d like to take another crack at. Not to mention it can show how my work has evolved over the years. Besides, in looking through old folders I may uncover a few more gems that never saw the light of day.

    Interested in buying? Purchase

  • False Spring

    False Spring

    Sunset photo with colorful clouds along the Long Beach Island bayside.
    False Spring — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    It’s been warm, folks. Strangely warm for February. Temperatures have ranged in the low- to mid-70s the past two days and it has many wondering if spring is already be upon us. Its tempting to give into the notion with nascent buds and bulbs beginning to show themselves early around much of the Mid-Atlantic. And while it’s easy to party like short sleeve weather is here to stay I cannot help but think back on the past few backloaded winters that have crushed any and all dreams of an early spring. With March looming I worry if we’ll pay the price for what has been otherwise a spectacular February. Will a prolonged cold snap of freezing temperatures lay waste to the early plant and flower growth leaving us with a less than stellar bloom? Time will tell—but hope springs eternal. Pardon my pun.

    On Long Beach Island this evening to make photos things were less warm. While temperatures still hung in the mid-50s cold bay and ocean water cast a reminder that we’ve still got a way to go. The micro climate is always something of a marvel. My house, which sits about five miles west of this photo as the crow flies, sat a good 15 degrees warmer than our barrier island. That’s just the way it goes; late to cool down in fall thanks to warm water, and late to heat up in spring thanks to cold water. That’s the ocean, folks—it’s big and it matters.

    My choice of title is surely a tie in to the early warmth and its transient tease (probably), but it’s more surely a hat tip to Mr. Cool Hat, George R. R. Martin himself. The sage of Westeros and author of A Song of Ice and Fire. The year of the false spring occurred at the time of the tourney at Harrenhal—a tournament which proved a watershed moment in triggering Robert’s Rebellion and the ensuing events that have become well known to book readers and television watchers alike. Winters are long and cold in Westeros, you guys, and climate change be damned at least we’re not dealing with the Long Night in our realm as yet. For the night is dark and full of terrors.

    Interested in buying? Purchase

  • Controlled Burn

    Controlled Burn

    NJ Pinelands controlled burn photo of a smoke plume at sunset.
    Controlled Burn — 35mm | f/5.6 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Controlled burning—or prescribed burning, whichever your flavor—has marked the skies of southern Ocean County with plumes of smoke the past few days. Capitalizing on warmth and wind local officials have taken to their annual task of culling New Jersey’s Pinelands of restrictive low-level growth. Fire is the lifeblood of a healthy forest ecosystem, and controlled burning is a responsible method of human stewardship that keeps our beloved pine forest habitat active and healthy. Not only does it aid in the replenishment and overall health of the pines, it also helps mitigate the risk and potential impact of a large out of control fire. It has an added photographic benefit by way of subject matter and color.

    Without wanting to get too close to the action, and without wanting to put myself in the way of hard working fire professionals, I made for Stafford Forge a little before sunset to capture the action from a reasonable distance. It was worth the effort. The sky and smoke was cast in a reddish-pink glow fused with a healthy dose of yellow. Scanning for composition I found a small tree to anchor my image. The real attention, however, goes to the prominent smoke plume pushing its smoke southeastward toward the sea.

    Interested in buying? Purchase

  • 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?

    Interested in buying? Purchase

  • 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.

    Interested in buying? Purchase

  • 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.

    Interested in buying? Purchase

  • Set Aside Bayside

    Set Aside Bayside

    Bayside sunset photo over sand and jetty rock.
    Set Aside Bayside — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Last light and the tide was with me. Which is to say gentle bay waters were low and slow affording me a dry spot otherwise lost to the migrating sea. More often than not I find myself unable to set up shop on this the starboard side of the jetty without getting myself or some gear wet. Nevertheless I like it here—a spot where I made a favorite black and white years back—so it was great to find it available this evening.

    Ten minutes to sundown and I was admiring the altocumulus clouds filling the sky. Tight reticulated patterns draped across the deck moving in slowly from the west. Like a cosmic fabric wearing checkerboard markings I was lost in its mesmerizing array. The only question on my mind was would there be enough space in the clouds to allow the sunset color to pass through? It only took a few minutes to find solace as the cloud deck began to heat up in a smoldering red glow. Contented I made my shutters and took in the rest of the show undistracted.

    Interested in buying? Purchase

  • 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.

    Interested in buying? Purchase

  • Happy Little Trees

    Happy Little Trees

    Sunset photo of deep colors, pine trees, grasses, and pond.
    Happy Little Trees — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Here’s a taste of last night’s sunset sauce. Man, it’s been a minute since I’ve photographed from Stafford Forge. Most of this has to do with my new car and the subsequent obsessive compulsive disorder that comes with it. Can’t be having dings, dents, and scratches says my anxious mind. And since the Forge requires some non-asphalt treading I’ve given in to fear and stayed clear. Last night—after a six month self-imposed exile—I returned to a fine stretch of land that’s made for some solid photos in the past. The timing is right, too, as the sun angle from this locale is best served in the winter months when the sun orients itself at its most southwest position.

    While last nigh’t sunset doesn’t slot into that ZOMG level it was still pleasant to take in. Winter color is not to be trifled with. When you combine a cold air mass with some mid and high level clouds you’ve got a recipe for intense coloration. The saturation of red and orange burned vividly even as it was cast upon rapidly dissipating cloud cover. Had we had a higher deck of cirrus clouds I think the ever elusive purple tones may have come to bare. (Purple is my favorite color of the sunset rainbow, by the way. I wonder if purple having the shortest wavelength affects why it renders itself less frequently than the other colors?) Nevertheless it was great to be back out in nature tucked behind these three happy little trees. They were kind enough to let me join in on their power trio while offering their services as a suitable foreground prop. Cheers, fellas.

    Coming up in the not too distant future? My annual best of retrospective. It’ll be up on December 24, 2016, so I best get cracking on my top 12. With any luck I can squeeze out one more quality shot before the post goes up.

    Interested in buying? Purchase