Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: hdr

  • Standing with the Treetops

    HDR sunset photograph of the New Jersey Pinelands' Pygmy Pine Plains taken from the Top of the World
    Standing with the Treetops — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Yesterday I waxed poetic about this great new spot locals call Top of the World. New is of course in the relative sense insofar as it is new to me. This is the second in what will most likely amount to three fully produced photographs from this nascent shoot from this clandestine (not really) Pinelands’ locale. It’s tough enough to come home with one satisfying photo so it’s always a happy dance bonus when that number turns crooked.

    As more of a technician than an artist this selected sunset is by no means perfect. And I’m OK with that. I’ve got an undesirable lens flare on the right edge to the center; my tripod was positioned a little too close to the pygmy pitch pines in the foreground, yielding unnecessary blur just outside my hyperfocal distance; and I’ve got real soft focus and some flare going on in the very bottom left corner. But somehow? It works for me. I purposefully placed my tripod dead smack in the middle of this micro pine canopy to help bring the viewer into the photograph. I wanted your face to by right where mine was—about six feet off the ground overlooking a gradual plain of the smallest fully-grown pine trees you’re never like to see. Through all that, the imperfections work for me. I’d like to say this was entirely premeditated, but other than looking at my bulbous lens glass and noting its closeness to the pines in the immediate foreground, did I notice much at all.

    Here’s an Instagram—gasp a selfie!—of me making this shot.

  • Fresh Tracks, Fresh Places

    Golden hour in the snow; as seen from the New Jersey Pinelands' Pygmy Pine forest. Fresh tire tracks and stunted pitch pine trees are illuminated by sunlight and marked with snow in this landscape HDR photograph.
    Fresh Tracks, Fresh Places — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Hooray for change of venue. Particularly when said venue change is this good. Thanks for the suggestion, Ben Wurst!

    For years—well over a decade—I’ve heard stories of the Top of the World. This so-called “high-point” ensconced amid the New Jersey Pinelands’ Pygmy Pine Forest. I use the term high-point loosely as there is essentially zero elevation here in Ocean County, New Jersey. Nevertheless, at this unique geographic confluence, dwarf pines—not much taller than my waist—sprawl toward the horizon in all directions from what amounts to a very gradual 30 or 40 foot high vantage point. Of course Sun Tzu has been teaching us the merits of having the high ground for thousands of years. If it works in war, why not photography?

    Being this high up among trees so small forgot made for a surreal setting. Surreal in the best possible way. Seemingly perched as a giant atop a magical forest canopy, over the course of two hours I admired the sunlight as it did its golden hour into sunset and then blue hour thing. With each segment in time bringing a brand new vibe to my new surroundings.

    You’ll see more of what I’m talking about tomorrow when I post my sunset shot from tonight. For now I leave you with an energized golden hour that worked its way down the trail from which I came. To execute this shot I had to get real small with my tripod off to the right corner so as not to cast my own shadow and compromise the shot. To give some perspective on just how small these trees are, that one in the foreground to the right, it stands at no more than seven feet tall. Towering over the rest, you can see the others struggle to make it merely half as high.

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  • Waiting on the Weather

    During a break in the weather clouds part just before sunset coloring the clouds purple and pink in this HDR photograph of the marshes of Cedar Run Dock Road.
    Waiting on the Weather — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Norlun Trough, I summon thee. And your arctic front. And its squall line.

    Bring all your snow, clouds blazing.

    A little before 4:00 p.m. Manahawkin was facing its first real snow shower of the day. The confluence of a clipper system from the north; an arctic front complete with a serious squall line to the west that will parlay to a coastal transfer, with all signs pointing to an inverted trough (that’s that Norlun thing) setting up somewhere over coastal New Jersey. As a weenietastic snow fan teased and tested by a tedious winter this leaves me twitching but cautiously optimistic.

    I figured as I was homebound waiting for snow all day, that chasing light and making photographs was not in the cards. We had been entrenched in a total cloud deck all day with little reason to think there’d be any kind of break. But sure enough 4:30 p.m. showed up and brought the sun with it. Pumped, I scrambled about the house cartoon style where your legs move for 5 seconds before you actually go anywhere. I packed my things, didn’t break anything and made for Dock Road.

    When I pulled up to my usual spot it was clear my standard sunset thing wasn’t going to play. To the southwest the clouds were returning so that kind of shot was a no go. Fortunately pink clouds were rolling on the northeast side. Here I crouched and made the winter marsh scene above.

    Oh, and Happy Valentine’s Day.

  • Lamentations Fall Before the Light

    A stunning HDR photograph glistening with pink pastels dancing off the icy stillness of Barnegat Bay as seen from Harvey Cedars Sunset Point.
    Lamentations Fall Before the Light — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    And to think that for even a second I considered not going out to shoot on account of ominous clouds rolling in from the southwest.

    I’d like to think I take some solid landscape photographs—with sunsets obviously being my thing. But for all my merit, I still don’t think I captured the righteousness of this evening’s sunset. Proof I still have much to learn before I ever think I’ve mastered this craft. The glow that set fire to the sky quickened my heart and delighted my senses. Leaving me wearing little more than a child’s uncontainable grin. If not the best, this easily finds a space comfortably in my personal top five. This is the kind of unspoken light that fuels the soul.

    There were plenty other revelers taking in Nature’s work at Harvey Cedars Sunset Park this evening. Though I fear many folks bounced too early, missing the awe that came before us. As I was running around the park, trying to find my desired angle, I could feel something special unfolding. A pink glow was creeping from the horizon and over the next several minutes the color drove eastward, igniting overhead. Viewfinder ablaze, I quickly texted my buddy—also shooting at the park—remarking just how lucky we were. In there interest of full disclosure there may or may not been a few enthusiastic expletives tossed in for good measure.

    All I know is that I am fired up. Thank you Mother Nature for being as unpredictable as you are great.

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  • Great Expectations

    After Winter Storm Juno skirted the Jersey shore sparing New Jersey from historic snow, the clouds break revealing a sublime winter sunset on the frozen marsh along Cedar Run Dock Road in this HDR photograph.
    Great Expectations — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    I am a snow lover.

    It is a tough day for snow lovers.

    When words like HECS start getting tossed around, and all area mets—up to and including the National Weather Service—go all in on what seems to be a sure fire Miller B transfer event, snow fiends like myself start going into overdrive. Visions of 2–3 inch an hour snow rates, powdery drifts and canyon banks lining neighborhood streets dance in our head. If you love weather—intense weather—few things get the blood pumping quite like Mother Nature standing at the doorstep.

    And yet weather is going to weather. As inevitable as this storm once seemed, a late capture by an upper level low allowed this beast of a coastal to slip just far enough east to spare New Jersey from real substantial impact. In its wake? A running spectrum of emotion across the residents of New Jersey, and many disappointed forecasters taking a beating in the court of public opinion. Predicting the weather is hard—very hard, and these folks are doing the best they can trying to predetermine outcomes in absence of a full dataset and in the presence of variability. By its very nature it is a thankless task, and I hope they just keep doing what they’re doing and continue to roll in favor of calling the next sure thing—even if it might not be.

    In the meantime, I’m going to keep waiting patiently for my first chance to finally photograph a big snow storm. Oh, and how about that sunset tonight? Check out how just how deep the color was in this straight out of camera, cellphone shot I uploaded to Instagram sans filter.

  • A cold trade for warm sunshine

    Rich golden hour sunlight washes over Stafford Forge pouring yellow light throughout the trees of the Pinelands in this HDR photograph.
    A cold trade for warm sunshine — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Hey, look! I took a photograph that isn’t a sunset. Whew. Before I locked in on yesterday’s blue hour special, I set down the tripod atop a small ridge overlooking the front lake of Stafford Forge Wildlife Management Area in an attempt at capturing the potent golden light that was pouring into the Pinelands. The pine needles dominating the ground cover were charged with such a glow the look of the whole scene defied the crisp feel of the 27ºF air. This has the look of June, not January. But hey, it’s warm enough when you’re looking at the picture from your living room.

    I love the Pinelands. I’m right on their doorstep and hope to photograph this underrated New Jersey gem more often in the future. If and when I get myself an all-wheel drive vehicle it’ll open up my photo access greatly. For now I am left hitching rides in the trucks of my buddies.

    Update: Shameless self-promotion alert—this here website is 1 year old today. Hooray for anniversaries.

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  • Pulse

    A spectacular HDR photograph taken during blue hour overlooking the front lake at the Stafford Forge Wildlife Management Area. Pastel clouds drape the horizon while marsh grasses are dormant and still in the mirrored reflection of water.
    Pulse — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Blue hour you are awesome—

    Tonight’s sky did it again. This marks the third time I’ve watched the sky dim, sunset seemingly fading away, only to have the sky illuminate once more with booming pastel colors somehow reborn reborn. While there’s no doubt sound physics behind the phenomenon—it seems to defy logic that the final light of day could seemingly die off only to fire back up for a final few moments of luminous glory. If you ask me it’s simply one hell of a way to make an exit.

    Picturing making aside, it was good times enough to be out at the Forge tonight watching this sublime sunset into blue hour transition. A process that elapsed over 25 minutes or so. And better yet I was accompanied by friends. Selfishly I’ve been waiting for a really great shot from all my time photographing Stafford Forge. For my money, tonight easily marks my best result to date.  It’s all coming up spades this cold Saturday in January.

    Now if you’ll excuse me, I am off to grab some dinner.

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  • A quiet place of reflection

    An HDR sunset photograph taken from the aluminum dock overlooking Bass River in New Gretna, New Jersey. With the metal dock marking the foreground, a rich pastel glow colors the sky and water on this near cloudless evening.
    A quiet place of reflection — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    For tonight’s sunset I ventured down to Ben Wurst’s stomping grounds in New Gretna, New Jersey. I haven’t been to this spot since 2012—back when I really had no clue what I was doing—and wanted to get back to take advantage of the deep Winter sun’s still southward position. Come Summer said sun will be well out of my frame to the west (right) of its current location.

    As for the spot itself, it sits tucked away just off Exit 50 on the northbound side of the Garden State Parkway overlooking Bass River. As you can see there’s a raised metal walkway—aluminum I’m guessing—that extends roughly 80 yards over the marsh and into the river itself. It’s one of those little known spots that hides in plain sight; and when it’s not serving as a spot for sunset revelers or those seeking quiet reflection, it represents one hell of a destination to watch lightning march across the marsh. Though don’t try this at home as I am told lightning and metal don’t mix. Hopefully my not-yet-charred remains won’t someday represent something of a cautionary tale…

    As for my thoughts on the photograph itself? This is one of my favorite day-glow sunsets yet. Sure there wasn’t great cloud action tonight, but I was really impressed with the rich pastels coming to life in the glow of atmospheric ice crystals. Sometimes Winter, you’re pretty all right.

  • Hey, Guy-wire

    An HDR blue hour photograph of a stony bayshore mixed with thin sea ice in the foreground and angle guy-wires in the mid ground plunging into the frozen bay.
    Hey, Guy-wire — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    A quick run to Google told me these here cables operate under the more official moniker of guy-wires. Prior to this revelatory moment these were always just the cables used to make the Star Wars blaster sound first made famous when Han shot first. Not to mentions serving as common decor for the New Jersey Turnpike—functional as they may be.

    By tonight it all came full-circle with these guy-wires making it into my photograph. I struggled this evening composing a shot that didn’t bore me. Moving from one spot to the next I took a bunch of test shots to go with some purposefully framed exposures from varying spots down on the Cedar Run Dock Road boat ramp. Everything was just kind of meh and I didn’t want to resort to a fall back scene. On most days I am pretty lucky and can settle into a frame almost instantly. But you know what? It’s good to struggle.

    And so I went with the wires and the seawall. I wanted some elements of the human imprint in this not-so-pure landscape. Pulling together the connectedness of our human work—for better or for worse—with nature’s work. We would do well to continuously challenge ourselves to find ever-improving ways to iterate ourselves to a more harmonious future. OK, we can stop holding hands now.