Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: hdr

  • Perhaps this is Goodbye?

    Perhaps this is Goodbye?

    Sunset photograph of frozen bay ice locking in marina posts
    Perhaps this is Goodbye? — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Be it superstition, confirmation bias, or an actual demonstrable trend to which I have neither the data nor scientific awareness to prove, pre-storm sunset skies always seem to deliver. Today sure fit the narrative. Anticipating winter storm Jonas’ arrival has ground my personal perception of time to a relative halt. Since Monday night the hours, such as they are, have ticked by like days as I click weary-eyed from one model run to another, waiting interminably on weather to arrive. Yet no matter what the models show me, and despite the Blizzard Watch we’re sitting under currently, the pangs of last year’s bust at the hands of Juno gnaw away at my insides. I just want the snow to get here, stay here, and with any, luck bring little to no rain to southeastern New Jersey. Of course that toasty Atlantic Ocean looms large, ready to push warm maritime air onto our shores if the center of low pressure creeps close enough.

    But let’s push my selfishness aside for a second, coastal flooding and beach erosion is the real concern here. But as the far less sexy story overshadowed by the high probability of widespread 12″ snow across much of the Mid-Atlantic, the tidal implications of a roiling ocean have been lost in the shuffle. We’re looking at an extended storm with a duration over 24 hours complete with a broad wind field of tightly packed isobars slinging wind gusts of around 60mph onto New Jersey shores. It’s subsequent storm surge will be aided by an ill-timed Full Moon giving an unneeded boost to already moderate to major tide heights. At least three high tides will be affected from Saturday morning through Sunday evening.

    It is with this reality I title my post. Understanding the marina is now state owned and seemingly set to restore to its natural state, there’s a good change this little cove will look quite different as soon as Monday. These derelict posts of wood that once gave aid to docks and quays may soon be little more than a memory. This is why in considering where on Great Bay Boulevard to photograph today I recalled the wise words of Ben Wurst, instructing me to shoot here as often as possible fore it may soon be gone.

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  • Cold Milestone

    Cold Milestone

    Landscape photograph of a snowy mid-Atlantic salt marsh at sunset
    Cold Milestone — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Anyone in the mid-Atlantic who even bothered to step foot outside today will find no shocking revelation in my declaration of today’s cold. Sure it was below freezing all day, but holy cow did the biting cold and piercing winds level up out on the marsh of Cedar Run Dock Road. The wind ripping across a rapidly freezing marsh plane was eye watering and hand destroying. Not even some impromptu jumping jacks were making a difference. It was no fun touching the cold metal of my tripod, clumsily thumbing the extension latches to unfurl the legs. But these are of course the chilled hazards of the job.

    In hindsight extending the tripod legs wasn’t even necessary. This evening turned into one of those shoots where I wound up going with my very first set of brackets. This exposure was made with the camera and tripod low to the ground; tucked into the frozen marsh grass to draw the viewer into the scene. A big part of why I’m posting this shot is because it’s the only set of brackets that still had enough sunlight to catch the pink glow painting the frozen edge of the marsh grass. Thus bringing visual warmth to a scene that was otherwise and quite literally devoid of it. Those sunbeams didn’t hurt, either.

    Celebrating Two Years

    Fun bit of housekeeping: this here website is celebrating its second birthday today. Since I first uploaded Beyond the Gray Sky two years ago I’ve added 240 photographs good for 232 posts. I’m beyond pleased with my small little home on the internet, and I hope you’ve enjoyed my modest contribution to what I hope is solid internet content. Here’s looking forward to a promising third year. Thank you.

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  • These Are Your First Steps

    These Are Your First Steps

    Blue hour photograph of an exposed manmade jetty in Barnegat Bay
    These Are Your First Steps — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Made my way into Barnegat this evening. Deep into Jonathan Carr territory to meet up and shoot a sunset. Arriving late and short on time, I was sweating it from intersection to intersection impatiently watching pastel pink clouds glow to the north and east knowing this color only had minutes of life. On arrival I found Jon set up pointed west, buried in a patch of phragmites. With nods of acknowledgment I quickly parted ways to check the bayside and noticed a perfect foreground element exposed in the dead calm low tide of Barnegat Bay—a jetty of sorts just waiting to be framed. Combine this with a pink-purple cast to the sky as blue hour hour is setting in and you start feeling pretty damn good about yourself.

    From here I set to work on dialing in the composition. The calmness and cool color tones were evoking a mood of serenity and space. I wanted to key on this and maintain as much negative space as possible; leaving the viewer room to breathe to take in the sights, imagine the sounds, and feel the openness of the setting. This photograph wasn’t going to be about vibrant colors, dramatic cloud shapes, or intricate details fulling up a composition. Instead it was going to be about space, softness, and simplicity. I’m pleased with the outcome.

    It’s only January, but I wouldn’t be surprised if this winds up on my list of 2016’s best. This was one of those shoots where you just know while you’re out there that you’re capturing something good and making it your own. You know there’s that little something extra that makes it stand above most of your other shoots. It’s all part of the reward and fun of this great hobby. Timing wise this worked out, this was a brand new spot for me and it sure did deliver. As for the title? Yeah it’s a Star Wars reference.

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  • For Colton

    For Colton

    Landscape photograph of a line of cumulus clouds richly lit at sunset
    For Colton — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    This evening my cousin and his wonderful wife welcomed their first child to the world. A happy, healthy boy named Colton. He’s only been around for a few hours now and he’s already proudly sporting a foreboding Molyneux head. Suffice it to say today was a good day. Knowing the labor battle began early this morning odds were good the latest addition to our family would make its arrival today. I use its only because until the time of birth we were all in the dark on the sex—though my gut was telling me it was a boy the whole time. The gift of hindsight now makes my prognostication air tight.

    With good karma filling the air and frontal boundaries driving the air, I had a strong sense the universe was on my side for producing an all out drama light show. The universe for its part delivered. We had rain showers develop overhead. We had complex cumulus cloud structures turning and tearing as the first front moved through. We even had rainbows. The sky was a fast paced play, with Cedar Run Dock Road its stage, and Jon Carr and I its captive audience. I kept remarking to Jon over and over that tonight was about as good a period of 60 minutes of light play that I could remember. With no exaggeration there were great exposures to be made in any and all directions. Conditions were that good. As far as I’m concerned this was all Colton—Molyneuxs know how to make an entrance—and Colton arrived about an hour or so after I exposed this photograph. This was how you finish what started off as a dark, rainy January day.

    Welcome, cousin. I cannot wait to meet you and watch you grow. Love you, buddy. To Tiffany and Daniel: congratulations, you guys. You’re going to be tremendous parents. Today was a good day.

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  • But wait, there’s more!

    But wait, there’s more!

    HDR landscape photograph of dramatic clouds and pastel colors at sunset
    But wait, there’s more! — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    While I already posted my 2015 retrospective last Thursday, I have to say this photograph would have garnered at minimum a passing consideration for the best of list. The depth and definition in the clouds of yesterday’s sunset sky was something else; undulating clouds positioned at multiple levels set the stage for dramatic interplay of light and shadows. The whole scene started out pretty mundane but once the sun dropped below the horizon a slow but steady pastel pulse colored in the clouds over the next 10 minutes. Soon the whole of the sky was ablaze. Wisps of stretched cotton candy stretched and pulled in the atmosphere winds setting the backdrop for the low-level cloud deck you see encroaching from the right, just above the horizon in an intimidating Star Destroyer lurch.

    Taking a step back my hope is that this sky opens the gate for the glory of winter sunsets. This color was associated with a frontal boundary that finally brought seasonal temperatures to the mid-Atlantic. We’ve been impossibly warm this December and while some unplanned warmth is sure to prolong flip-flop season, it’d be nice to get some arctic air drama lighting up the sky as it did yesterday afternoon on Dock Road. Polar Vortex I implore you.

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  • Lookout Landing

    Lookout Landing

    HDR cross processed photograph of a lone man watching sunset
    Lookout Landing — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Does this count as self portraiture? I’m not certain but this may count for salvaging a sunset shoot. How salvaged? Only you can be the judge of that. Sunset sits the saddle of boom or bust. For a moment yesterday seemed headed for boom town, but instead just kinda petered out into grey-blue darkness. But that’s all good.

    Eager to make something out of nothing I thought why not hop into my own picture for a change? Could be cool, right? Simply set the timer to 10-seconds and find a spot that seems to be on one of the outer thirds of the frame. Hard to go wrong with the rule of thirds. Once in position I remained as still as possible knowing I was popping off 7 brackets. Total excess I’m sure, but hip-hip-hooray for digital storage.

    The last bit of the workflow brought some cross processing in post production. A final effort to complete a different look that seemed fitting for what was a different kind of shoot. It seemed fitting to layer over a washed out veil of mood. With a new year fast approaching it only makes sense to look ahead to the future with equal parts trepidation and wonder. I’m trying to collect my own thoughts to figure out where my photography should head in 2016. Do I try something completely new? Like portraiture? Revisit some kind of photo project like the one that got all this started in 2012? Identify an area of weakness for focus and improvement? Or maybe try deeper forays into shameless self-promotion? Of course I could follow the Greg Molyneux as water M.O. and seek out the path of least resistance to keep doing what I’m doing? Or some kind of mash-up combination? That said there are two things I do know: 1) I want to do more black and white, and 2) in the very near term I need to get cracking on my best of 2015 post so it’s ready to go come Christmas Eve.

  • Fade Out

    Fade Out

    Blue hour HDR photograph overlooking dune fence and calm bay water
    Fade Out — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    For those of you following my photos on the regular—thank you!—you know I like vibrant, contrasty colors for my landscapes. The more color the better. But in processing last night’s shot (today) I wanted to produce a kinder, gentler final image. A more subtle hand to photograph and capture the calm, soothing blues that crept out over Ship Bottom’s bay beach as the final fading moments of light packed up their things for the daily migration west.

    In spite of a promising cloud deck sunset never fully fired yesterday, and in this case I’m not even a trifle bit upset by that. After the world class light that’s been pumping in of late it was nice to take a breather to sit back and appreciate a true blue hour. This shot was made a good 25–30 minutes after full sundown, and coupled with the unseasonably mild temperatures (it’s cracked 70 the past two days across New Jersey) it was a real treat to make December photographs in short sleeves. Many rejuvenated revelers were out and about with their cameras, pets, and bicycles, while couples went walking hand-in-hand. It was just all so nice to see.

    Compositionally I’ll go as far as to say I did the best I could. Until I arrived I was forgetful of the fact that at this time of year, with the winter sun setting in the southwest, angles get a little tough on many of LBI’s westward exposures. Sunset Point in Ship Bottom is surely no different. With the Point itself completely out of the the picture, I made my way about 200 feet south along the bay beach and decided to make my final stand at this little section of dune fence. Forever fond of said dune fence from my days of yore maintaining the public spaces with Ship Bottom Public Works, it was this or just an open expense of heavily traveled beach sand. The fence seemed the better play.

  • Revisit

    Revisit

    HDR landscape photograph of sunset fading to blue hour over the salt marsh
    Revisit — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Familiarity sure is comforting. A place of positive past experience lends confidence if only in having been there before. I revisit spots constantly. More often than not trying to take a different angle to compose the frame in a new way so as to change the perspective—you know, so as not be completely repetitive. Subtle shifts in angle—side-to-side or up-and-down—coupled with a height change in camera body elevation relative to the ground can make all the difference in your final shot. This paired with ever changing cloudscapes and light play, and you’re likely seldom if ever to encounter identical shooting conditions even if you are one to revisit the friendly confines familiar ground.

    This was certainly me today. I’ve got a bunch of photographs made from this little spot of roadside—seen here, here, here, here, and here—and even still it’s always worth a retread. This creates an iterative anthology over time documenting how a place both does and does not change. For me, here on Cedar Run Dock Road, it drives home just how much the marsh does change as it cycles through the time, the season and the tide. It’s certainly brought me to a place of greater appreciation for the diverse environmental sensitivities in my own community.

    While the shot above is from a different spot entirely, its color cast reminds of a wintertime sunset I captured back in February of 2014. Very similar pink, yellow, and blue tones in these two pictures. Pretty cool to see that glow come back around. To spin off into a little bit of a tangent I may start making these kind of connections as part of my blogging; marrying current photographs with past shots where appropriate. It may help to better connect the narrative as I journey down the photographer’s path—what exactly that path is? I do not know.

  • We Face the Path of Time

    We Face the Path of Time

    HDR photograph of an abandoned dock set afire by intense sunset color
    We Face the Path of Time — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    I’m still basking in the glow of last night’s awesomesauce. And as much as I like the photograph posted last night, this one beats it out ever so slightly as far as I’m concerned. I realize we’re splitting hairs here and traipsing into the realm of subjectivity. But that’s all part of the fun—it doesn’t matter what I like, all that matters is what you like. While we’re all in this together we get to bring our own experience and thought into each and every photograph. And that’s p kool as far as I’m concerned.

    In my previous post I talked about how I was all over the place trying to lockdown an ideal composition worthy of a killer sunset. The spot above is where the lion share of hemming and hawing went down. I just couldn’t get locked in. Do I get low? Do I go high? How many poles should I incorporate from the dock in my foreground? How much marsh should I capture along the right side of the frame? Is it balanced with the water to the left? On it went. Ultimately I settled in at a spot straddling a missing piece of board along the gangway. It wasn’t quite as precarious as it sounds, but when you’ve got camera equipment you care about riding the edge of no tomorrow there’s always pause for concern. But remember the mantra: you do what it takes to make the shot. That’s especially true when you’ve got light on a level that only happens a handful of times a year. Of course the fact that I bailed on this position to make last night’s shot, which at the moment I thought of as a last ditch effort to make a better image, speaks to trusting your instincts. The upshot to this indecision? I’ve got two damn fine photographs to add to my stockpile.

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