It doesn’t always have to be a show — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Tonight, like other nights before it, was all about the ultimate sunset. No matter how many times I get out and shoot a sunset I’m always hoping my next one will be the one; explosive colors, textbook composition, interesting foreground, leading lines, unicorns. Come 120 minutes before sundown and there’s some interesting cloud play marking the sky, and this is exactly where my mind is going. Sunset mecca. It’s this drive that has kept me from falling bored with sunset photography. At least up until now.
Tonight though, it became readily clear that it wasn’t going to be one of those nights. One where I’m tweeting like a maniac and standing roadside doing a shimmy. No, tonight was not one of those nights. But you know what? It’s all good. I rather enjoyed the simplicity and softness of an understated blue hour. Tranquil and serene it put me in the right place.
Tomorrow the quest for the Ultimate Sunset™ continues.
Go East, my friend — 40mm | f/8 | ISO 400 | 3 Bracketed Exposures
Here’s the last of the three shots from Sunday’s photo mission. After our time messing around in the cold, steam rising bog we decided to do a little four-wheelin’. The Pinelands are littered with trails, some maintained better than others, and it’s a great way to spend time with friends. Over the years they’ve mostly been midnight excursions, but now that we’ve turned photographer there’s more reason to get out there in daylight.
As our two truck convoy was humming along deeper and deeper into the pines, the low sun angle was creating wondrous light play atop the tree line. At this one particular bend we stopped our vehicular exploration to get out and shoot on foot. Off the main trail was this little eastward spur illuminated by a lovely little sunbeam. Upon composing my shot I held my breathe and fired off three bracketed exposures handheld. Normally I’d say go for the tripod, but every now and then, particularly with my 40mm, I like to challenge myself and test my stillness.
While I’m hesitant to say for sure, I think I prefer this shot to the first offering, even though the light in that one was pure magic. Yesterday’s post, however, represents a distant third. But that’s not for me to decide. That is up to you.
Casual aside: As a long time Legend of Zelda fanatic I can’t help but think of the open-ended exploration of the Lost Woods. Ah, memories.
It’s a secret to everybody — 40mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 3 Bracketed Exposures
Kudos to Ben Wurst for planting the seed of a Sunday morning sunrise shoot in the pines earlier this week. It takes a lot to get this guy rolling in the pre-dawn hours—especially on weekends. But as tough as it is to get up, it’s always a touch easier if it’s for fishing or for photos.
When it was settled where we’d meet up this morning my excitement for the locale began to overwhelm my denial of having to wake up so early. Along my route to work each day, about 14 miles into my journey, I pass a low bog in the heart of the pines. It offers an eastern face for sunrise and a western view for sunset, each from County Road 539. Unfortunately I’m always en route to and from the career gig and have yet to take advantage of the opportunity to stop and shoot. That changed this morning.
Thinking I’d be setting up overlooking the roadside bog, I was shocked to find the most well manicured, 10 inch wide path through the pine forest. It was comically quaint. It would be the perfect fit for David the Gnome types. Something straight out of The Legend of Zelda. Excited by my discovery, I led us down the path. It wasn’t more than a tenth of mile in that we came upon another access to the bog. What’s more? It had its own wooden walkway making a loose 150 yard circle around the bog.
The air was crisp. The sky was clear. The steam was rising. At this point my focus was all about getting a proper ray shot. The kind where rays of sunlight make there way through steam/fog/condensation with rich golden light. I was pleased that my handheld camera, 40mm, and I were able to get it done.
The winds of change — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Few things reinvigorate the spirit like a change in weather. The clouds break, the winds turn and cold, fresh air pours down clean and clear from the northwest. Like a steam roller of inevitability it reminds us winter is coming.
Today was one of those all kind of weather days. Morning took us into early afternoon with clouds, rain, and a dank humid warmth. The afternoon gave way to glow of sunshine and a flash of warmth; a feint reminder of summer gone by. But come sunset the winds had changed and the cold began its lurch across the state. We’re heading down into the low 40s for the the overnight and by morning we’ll all be hugging our loved ones a bit little tighter.
Just another marsh shot — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Here’s my other shot from Monday. The shot I had all set up and dialed in before plans changed. It worked out for the best since I walked away with two keepers. And while I’m hardly a math magician even I can surmise two is greater than one.
While compositionally sound, what I like most about this shot is the essence it captures. This is the Jersey Shore I know and love. The backwater coastal ways, the estuaries, the salt marsh. It’s where I find my peace.
Long before I was into picture taking, I would take drives to the marsh—often with friends—to just take in the scene. Away from the angst and bustle of the real world, the busy world. We all need place where we can take a step back and decompress. That’s what the marsh is for me.
Milestone alert: While yesterday was my 100th post on this website, this here shot is the 100th image I’ve shared. Thanks to all those who have visited, and thanks to all of those who someday will. Cheers.
You gotta move — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Photography rule #648: be adaptable.
Photography rule #648a: be fast—with your adaptability and your feet.
In photography as it is with life, it’s always good to have a plan. Not just for the structure, but more for the mindset it creates. A mindset that has us thinking about our craft long before and long after we’re out in the field executing. Through the iteration our work becomes better and more our own. And our hairs grow grayer, too!
Last night’s plan was all about heading south to Great Bay Boulevard to make the most of an ideal late afternoon cloud setup coupled with a perfectly timed low tide. Things were looking up!
My buddy and I arrived on scene about an hour before sundown and everything looked great. After scouting a composition the minutes passed and the sky grew more bleak. Figures. Low level clouds made their way in, draping the southwestern horizon. Things went from good to bad in the span of 20 minutes, and this sunset, like many before before it, had bust written all over it.
6:50 p.m. About five minutes past sunset. Nothing but blues and grays. No color in sight.
Then Jon calls over, “check out over there.” I look to the northwest over my right shoulder to spot Jon’s finger pointing off along the horizon. A lone jet of pink streaking across the western horizon off toward the north. Perplexed I kinda stood there for a minute or two more amazed than anything else.
6:55 p.m. Ten minutes past sundown. The pink is growing.
Things are escalating quickly. The northwestern sky is lighting up pink and it’s spreading quickly. Too bad it’s spreading nowhere near my shot. All the color stayed to the northwest, a real oddity for sunset light.
At this moment I knew I had to move. And fast. Decisively I scooped my tripod, camera fixed to its head, and began a 200m sprint toward the bayside beach. Running like a soldier with a rifle, I had my setup cradled and moved as quick as my 32 year old wheels would allow. I can still pick ’em up and lay ’em down.
Knowing I had no more than five minutes of color left (max!) I arrived to the bay beach. I looked left. I looked right. I Spotted some neat driftwood and knew that was my foreground. It’s not like I had time to explore other options. Above is the shot I exposed. Who the hell needs a plan anyway?
As I was taking the seven bracketed exposures for last night’s shot, I was looking back northeast over my right shoulder at the incredible scene happening to my rear. Old Barney awash in blue hour pastels, cast in a soft pink glow. There was too much great light and not enough cameras (in the interest of full disclosure I was firing off panoramas with my iPhone throughout the shoot). We’re talking first world problems of the highest order. In the span of a second my mind racked over the pros and cons of moving my tripod and repositioning my camera in the midst of the phenomenal sunset that was unfolding in real time. Normally I like to find my spot and stay there.
After a brief pause of hesitation I decided to make the move. I did go to the lighthouse to shoot the lighthouse, after all. Knowing I had to move quickly, I dialed in with speed and took one set of seven brackets before hurrying back to my first location, facing sunset. That one set produced one hell of a final result. I haven’t taken many photographs of Long Beach Island’s most famous landmark but this one is surely best.
Last Summer fire or first Fall burn? — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
To equinox or not.
At some point today, harried by one pained throat and an equally upset stomach, I determined today was the equinox. How couldn’t it be? It was the 22nd of the month and yesterday wasn’t the equinox, so… Excellent clouds were out and about all throughout the day, and I thought there’s no way in hell I am going to miss an equinox sunset shoot so long as I’m well enough to do so. Driven by my superstitious—watch Ancient Aliens for hours at a time—side comes out, and my mind all but assumes there has to be an outstanding sunset because, hello? Equinox. I mean this is just how the universe works. In honor of this assured collision of cosmic forces, I decided to up the ante and shoot from a new location: Barnegat Light.
The 23rd?!? Really?
Seriously? I can’t ever remember a solstice or an equinox happening on a 23rd. Insert incredulity.
When I learned this I was already en route. Tweeting my despair I soon learned all was not lost. There was a technicality that would save me yet! Fall, you see, arrives at 10:29 p.m. for those of us on the East Coast. So while this photograph was taken during Summer, it’s still on the date with which Fall will arrive. Convenient.
None of this, however, speaks for the real show. That sky. Wow. It all came together today. The air was remarkably clear, with the cold front that passed through last night visibility far exceeded its norm, making from uniquely sharp conditions. The cloud striations were great, the colors magical, and the air pure. It was a sight to behold in person, and I am so pleased to have a capture to share with you. This shot has vaulted to the top of my personal favorites. It’s gonna be a tall order to better this sunset. You’re on notice, solstice.
And the orange glow — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
I came away with two shots from last night’s sunset shoot. The one I posted yesterday and the one you see above. Only minutes after the first photograph, the sky had undergone a rapid transformation. From the deep blue sky and dramatic clouds to the smooth orange glow backed by an almost turquoise sky that we see here. Once that sun came under the cloud draping just over the horizon the warmth of the sunlight changed—dialing up the orange and yellow and intensifying shadows. This is a big part of what make sunset (or sunrise) so exciting—you can have numerous stunning scenes in the span of one half hour.
