Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: insects

  • The Way of Walking Alone

    The Way of Walking Alone

    100mm macro photo of a dutiful bumblebee collecting pollen atop a fresh daisy blossom. The image is cross processed to give it a more moody tone.
    The Way of Walking Alone — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1000

    Or The Way of Self-Reliance (Dokkōdō).

    I’ve started listening William Scott Wilson’s translation of Miyamoto Musashi’s The Book of Five Rings on Audible. As something of a budding Japanophile, and a person long into all things history, the study of The Way and Samurai culture rings true to my soul as a monk’s bell meditatively struck in morning. In the forward, Wilson translates the final lesson handed down from Mushashi to his disciples: 21 precepts outlining The Way of Walking Alone. The teachings of Japan’s sword-saint are open to us all, and I thought I’d share a bit here.

    • Do not turn your back on the various Ways of this world.
    • Do not scheme for physical pleasure.
    • Do not intend to rely on anything.
    • Consider yourself lightly; consider the world deeply.
    • Do not ever think in acquisitive terms.
    • Do not regret things about your own personal life.
    • Do not envy another’s good or evil.
    • Do not lament parting on any road whatsoever.
    • Do not complain or feel bitterly about yourself or others.
    • Have no heart for approaching the path of love.
    • Do not have preferences.
    • Do not harbor hopes for your own personal home.
    • Do not have a liking for delicious food for yourself.
    • Do not carry antiques handed down from generation to generation.
    • Do not fast so that it affects you physically.
    • While it’s different with military equipment, do not be fond of material things.
    • While on the Way, do not begrudge death.
    • Do not be intent on possessing valuables or a fief in old age.
    • Respect the gods and Buddhas, but do not depend on them.
    • Though you give up your life, do not give up your honor.
    • Never depart from the Way of the Martial Arts.

    Second Day of the Fifth Month, Second Year of Shoho [1645]
    —Shinmen Musashi

    Shout-out to Digital Dao for providing the online text as I did not transcribe this from the audio text.

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  • World Between Worlds

    World Between Worlds

    100mm macro photograph of a black swallowtail caterpillar set atop dill.
    World Between Worlds — 100mm | f/4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/400

    What of the caterpillar? The two act play in a life lived twice. First bounded to a potted dill long gone to seed. Nothing more to do than eat. Eat and pray—pray your striped camouflage is enough to ward off prey. Birds whiz hither and dither somehow tricked by the ruse or warned off by its bright colored reticulated pattern. Color often means danger in the many corners of the animal kingdom, though I’m not sure that is the case here.

    Still I pause to wonder does she know what comes in act two? Should she endure to soon spool up into her silken cocoon to wait and to transform. A miraculous metamorphosis awaits. A death to one life followed by transformation and rebirth into another. Resurrection to new life. A wonder to behold.

    How would such a complete change of our physical being affect our lives and our self-awareness? What would it mean to become so fully remade? What then would it mean to be human? What then would the caterpillar think of us?

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  • Working Class Hero

    Working Class Hero

    100mm low key macro photo of a single honey bee pollinating purple coneflower pistils. A strong single light source creates stark contrast of highlights and shadows. A deep blue monochrome treatment drives a dark, serious mood.
    Working Class Hero — 100mm | f/4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1250

    Dutiful honey bee plying her trade. Drinking her nectar and loading her pollen basket, she works with intent. With energy and purpose she minds her craft. Even alone the hive is on the mind. Her community needs her; needs her singular focus to feed and to provide. To sustain the group. Bounding atop pistils by day, she works the land spending hours at the harvest. Undaunted she holds fast to her task. Mindfulness dams distraction. Even the focused lens of the observer matter little to our indefatigable worker bee. She need not pay us any mind—she strives for the hive.

    As ever, thank you, John Lennon, for enriching our lives with joy. Thanks for your classic song connecting to this lyrically inspired photo. A working class hero is something to be(e).

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  • The Technician

    The Technician

    100mm high key macro photograph of a honey bee feeding and pollinating a purple coneflower blossom.
    The Technician — 100mm | f/4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/160

    Photo making is a task I invest significant time. 2020 marks year nine in my photography journey, and what an unexpected trip it has been. Beginning as a desperate distraction from depression, it has morphed into a real passion spanning the better part of a decade. I look back and ask myself what has changed since such a somber beginning? How has my perception shifted since my early days as a lost soon-to-be 30 year old with little clue how to use a camera?

    For years I thought of myself as a technician. An individual proficient in making appealing photographs. Something of a process driven camera operator churning out landscape and nature photos per the rules. Viewing myself as a proper photographer, let alone creator, took many years of inner wrangling. I was a guy who followed procedure and protocols to produce a good clean image. There was nothing more to it. Follow steps one, two, and three, and a good photo you will be. As ever labels and semantics tripped me up, and I refused to think of myself as something more than a well trained individual who executes a task list. Anyone can do this, and creativity is no factor.

    This view, pedantic and self-limiting, was a silly exercise. Over time I eased up on these pointless restrictions. Why put myself in a box? Or the better question, why exclude myself from other boxes? It’s foolish. After several years I grew inured to the photographer label. Being called a photographer didn’t leave me vexed and uncomfortable, with a furrowed brow looking over my shoulder for someone else with a camera . We must accept what is.

    Fast forward to the past few years, and I finding growing comfort traipsing into creator territory. Might I be creative? That’s all cool and artsy sounding, so can it be true of a self-professed technician? Here I submit my writing as evidence. Even though my clear renown, such as it is, is as a photographer, it is my writing that brings the most intrinsic joy. This creative act is far less natural to me than making photographs. There is no technical process for me to follow. No clear roadmap for success. This is a wholly feel-based enterprise, and I am certain that leaves learned readers with a proper taste for grammar cringing.

    English class was not my thing as a youngster, and this remained the case throughout high school and college. I showed neither promise nor interest in writing. And yet, for the past few years, it is far and away my favorite form of personal creative expression. The words I write to accompany each photograph I share means more to me than any photo I make. Do not get me wrong, it feels great to have a photo meet with broad community appeal. Those likes, shares, and thumbs up feel good! But nothing pleases me more than a person talking about what I wrote. This praise removed the technician from the uncomfortable box he placed himself in. So allow me a giant thank you to every one of you who takes time to read and resonate with my words. Your time and attention is a gift amidst this tripped up world, and I thank you all.

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  • The Collector

    The Collector

    100mm square format macro photo of a honey bee pollenating a Black-eyed Susan flower blossom.
    The Collector — 100mm | f/4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/125

    Honey bees! Working, buzzing, collecting. Pollen clinging and clumping in large, impressive blobs stuck about their legs. Dutiful, the bees worked over one flower head after another, nonstop in their quest for pollen. They did not seem to mind my presence much, either. Showing no ill will toward my camera intrusion. Though getting tack sharp focus was not the easiest considering they never slow nor settle.

    But seriously, I cannot believe I have honey bees. There must have been dozens milling about the flowers strewn about my property. I never remember seeing this many honey bees in an entire season, let alone on a single day, and I have been photographic my yard extensively since 2012. My little black and yellow buds were doing their best work on my other little black and yellow buds, my Black-eyed Susan blossoms. It was awesome to watch.

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  • Reaching Out

    Reaching Out

    100mm macro photo of a green silver-spotted skipper caterpillar on a dead purple coneflower.
    Reaching Out | 100mm | f/4 | ISO 1600 | EXP 1/200

    Laid up for the weekend with back pain is suboptimal. Press conference Joe Girardi would shrug his shoulders incredulous and declare it’s not what you want. Whatever your flavor there is never a good time for back pain. And to my brothers and sisters mired in low back hell, I slouch in solidarity with thee. May your heating pad and icy hot be forever in your reach.

    The good news to this story is that of this Sunday evening writing my condition has improved. Eager to product something of value I thought why not hit this neglected blog and publish a new photo on this website. The photograph is not new, per se, having made this shot in mid-September. True to form I have been slacking all year on getting photos out and into the world on any kind of schedule representing timeliness.

    Yet here is a sweet little macro of what I only learned minutes ago is a silver-spotted skipper in its caterpillar phase. That is one stylish looking insect if you ask me. Rock the neon glory if you’ve got it. Before its metamorphosis stride I made some macros of it milling about an old coneflower. No doubt contemplating what comes next in life.

    Presented with ample negative space this photograph has room to b-r-e-a-t-h-e. Loads of space and flat color bokeh teeing up all the wide ranging existential issues. So much room for the mind by way of the eye to sit and ruminate in a minimal motif stripped of stuff. Left hanging, we are as our little green friend: Stretched on the precipice of of existence in simultaneous reach to the Next Big Thing. As we cling to the familiar we hold battle with anxious apprehension when faced with undefined space. For those who recognize all possibility of the empty palette reach out to transform their lives.

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  • The Small Blue

    The Small Blue

    Macro photo of eastern tailed blue butterfly atop purple coneflower.
    The Small Blue — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/500

    Editor’s note: [July 29, 2017] This is not a small blue butterfly. It is an eastern tailed blue butterfly. It’s the small thin tail that earns this distinction. Shout-out to Dave Blinder who coincidentally posted a shot of an eastern tailed blue on his Instagram today thus unveiling my error. It’s always good to learn something new. I’m keeping the title as is—it’s still a blue butterfly small in size.

    A favorite bug friend came to feast upon a favorite flower. Macro serendipity multiplied. It’s been years since I’ve photographed a small blue butterfly. (Note: This is not a small blue) So you can imagine my happiness when I spied it doing its nectar thing atop a purple coneflower.

    Outside with my gear I got to work making photos. Pleased the dive bombing carpenter bee that was harassing the silver-spotted skipper earlier had left its post, the little small blue eastern tailed blue was able to feast unmolested. While small this little fella packed plenty of courage. He paid me no mind as it drank about the coneflower, dexterously darting its tongue amid the orange spires. With notable discipline the small blue eastern tailed blue worked clockwise about the coneflower stamen at a steady pace. The predictable clockwork fashion aided my shooting. I was able to get close and anticipate its maneuvering with ease.

    From here I worked the full midday sun into advantage. It afforded fast shutter speeds to aid handheld sharpness. More beneficial, it infused the exposure with strong contrast. This creates the deep blue-black behind the small blue and amplifies the dramatic streak of highlight running atop the edge of its wings. Lending a theater quality that might shine upon the actor during her soliloquy. The small blue eastern tailed blue muse was not lost on me.

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  • Liquid Lunch

    Liquid Lunch

    Macro photo of silver-spotted skipper feeding on purple coneflower nectar.
    Liquid Lunch — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1000

    I made the most of strong midday sun and an anxious butterfly battling for a sip. While I may have contributed to this silver-spotted skipper’s general unease, to be sure it was a dive bombing carpenter bee who proved the true villain. Selfish to the last this boring bee, not content with undermining wooden structures, also suffers from an insatiable need to dominate the local plant life as well. Unprovoked harassment aside, the skittish butterfly proved tenacious and drank surreptitiously upon a purple coneflower nectar in fits and starts.

    As the drama unfold I remained the steadfast dispassionate observer. Channeling my best, albeit deficient, Sir David Attenborough, I permitted nature’s battle unmolested. Instead of meddling in the travails of bugs I sat back with my 100mm macro lens and popped off exposures. I worked close and fast relying on handheld work to make my frames.

    Five minutes feel about 20 when you’re front and center with nature. Time dilation further magnifies when viewed in macro. Tunneling focus sets in as your whole world collapses down to lens physics making large of the small. It’s as if descending into an enlarged world of minutia brings with it a slower perception of time, reinforcing its relative nature. It is not without other lessons. The speed of the big world evaporates. The worry over text messages, tweet storms, and emails that need answering two minutes before receipt fades in full. It’s as if nature is trying to tell those who will see what does indeed matter.

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  • Identify Yourself

    Identify Yourself

    Macro photo of a carpenter bee collecting wisteria pollen.
    Identify Yourself — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/640

    My brain gets the best of me. Often I wrap myself sideways in details that stand meaningless to most. Mired in Minutia: A Greg Molyneux Memoir. Case in point, I present this photograph. I’ve been scrutinizing Google images for days, sweating over proper bee identification. Is it a bumblebee? A carpenter bee? A rusty patched bumblebee? Which until yesterday I knew nothing about; bombus affinis is one cool species name, though. Or is it some other bee I don’t even know about? Ah yes, the endless fretting of a runaway mind.

    Taxed and unable to commit I sent a photo of my photo to Ben Wurst today. South Jersey’s Captain Planet, Ben’s the clear choice for local wildlife identification. Almost immediately Ben confirmed my suspicion. Declaring this here bee of the carpenter kind. Whew! Are you tired from this tedium, too?

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