When Winter Comes — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
The onset of winter has me inspired. After a subpar shooting season in 2018, leave it to a modest snowfall to turn the tide. First came the photo I made at Stafford Forge—an inspired output that pleased the residents of your favorite social media platform. Two days later, when a fine splash of color made an appearance over the familiar expanse of Dock Roadmarsh, I was there, and I was ready. A calming sight—the serene scene. Ice creeping in atop staid tide pools, snow pack propping up marsh grass, and sublime pastels coloring the sky with a master’s touch.
I had great company, too. My girlfriend’s two year old daughter made the trip with me. An excellent co-pilot if there ever was one. We hung out roadside taking in the bracing air and pretty pinks in an understated bonding moment. I even had her pop off a few shots of her own, hoping to bring joy to the next generation of photographers. It’s remarkable, really, the intensity and focus an untarnished brain brings to new encounters. I’m not sure where we lose that capacity as adults, but we are no doubt poorer for it. Oh for the wisdom of babes.
A Window to Winter — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Somehow I made it through the entirety of 2018 without making a single photo trip to Stafford Forge. I know it was a down year for photo output, but sheesh. At least I am checking it off my list early in 2019, am I right? With fresh mid-January snowfall it was the perfect destination to capture the final light of day.
The pines were magical. Cotton ball snow resting easy atop pine boughs as far as the eye could see. Fresh powder and a last gasp of golden pink light set a dramatic stage. More than the photography it was invigorating to stand outside in crisp, bracing air; taking in the unmistakable air of fresh fallen snow. There’s nothing quite like it. A true tonic for the soul.
I was out shooting and catching up with Jonathan Carr—who turned 39 today, happy birthday, man—and we couldn’t help note how similar the whole tableau was to March 2015. A similar snow fell across the region and the skies broke right in time for a power play golden hour into sunset. I made three great shots that day, and you can seem them here, here, and here. That kind of setup never gets old, and I will take more of that, please.
Sand to Snow | Captured: January 5, 2018 | Location: Harvey Cedars Sunset Park, Harvey Cedars, New Jersey
2018 began a proper tundra. Far flung neighbors from the northern reaches of Manitoba may have felt right at home staring out over the southwestern shores of Hudson Bay. I was about as cold as I can remember making this photograph and striking arctic vista aside, my primary takeaway from this venture into the meat locker was of my contact lenses freezing over. Rapid blinking and jumping jacks were essential in getting me through this forty-five minute freeze along the shores of Barnegat Bay. Photo-wise, things were looking great to start out 2018.
In and Out — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/2000
In and Out | Captured: May 11, 2018 | Location: Ocean Acres, New Jersey
Yeah, that’s right, a big jump from January to May. Not much doing over the winter so we are skipping right to spring flowers. Here we have a photograph I made of my front yard spirea bush. Compositionally, I am drawn to the interplay of soft focus, shallow depth of field, and the working of the post and rail wood fence set against the delicate blossoms. This macro photograph is a reminder of my roots—cutting my teeth in 2012, shooting flowers as I was learning my way about a camera.
Prime Peony — 100mm | f/4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/320
Prime Peony | Captured: May 26, 2018 | Location: Ocean Acres, New Jersey
Straightforward approach with this photograph. Center weight macro of a fresh bloomed peony in all its pastel pink petal glory. Soft focus and simplicity work very well here; and it’s a fair demonstration that a subject placed right smack in the middle of your frame is the way to go. Sure we talk up the rule of thirds and avoiding this sort of composition, but sometimes I is best to toss away the rule book to let your subject shine.
The Forest and the Trees — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/50
The Forest and the Trees | Captured: June 16, 2018 | Location: Baker’s Acres Campground, Little Egg Harbor, New Jersey
This pine forest composition is not overwhelming in its precision or wow factor, and in a more prolific year it probably doesn’t make the cut, but it is getting the nod in 2018. It’s departure from my usual marsh sunset/flower macro motif, plus it’s rich green and yellow coloring and line work, make it a viable contrast to my standard body of work. Sometimes an imperfect thing a little different is better than perfection we readily seek.
Some Summer Night — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Some Summer Night | Captured: June 29, 2018 | Location: Cedar Run Dock Road, West Creek, New Jersey
Finally a shot in my wheelhouse. Longtime followers—thank you—will recognize this marsh sunset as an exemplar for my standard body of work. This is square in my comfort zone, and while 2018 was a down year for my photography—particularly fiery sunsets over the marsh—it is nice to have a solid one to drop in this year’s annual retrospective. I just love the way that vibrant, young marsh green works against the pinks, purples, and blues as day passes on into night. There is nothing quite like June on the marsh.
Corona — 100mm | f/4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/80
Corona | Captured: July 9, 2018 | Location: Ocean Acres, New Jersey
Purple coneflowers, ladies and gentlemen. They are beautiful and wonderful to photograph, and depending on the day of the week they are probably my favorite flowers. For folks looking to get into photography, particularly macro photography, coneflowers will lend you a splendid muse throughout all phases of its lifecycle. Early bloom, full blossom, and even in death, they make a forgiving subject that will have you looking like a pro in no time. As an added bonus they provide a great food source to our insect friends giving you some added joy to practice with. Considering this has been my iPhone wallpaper for the past six months its inclusion in this list was a foregone conclusion.
Reaching Out | 100mm | f/4 | ISO 1600 | EXP 1/200
Reaching Out | Captured: September 16, 2018 | Location: Ocean Acres, New Jersey
Hey, I told you purple coneflowers make great subjects through all phases of their lifecycle. Here, the same plant we saw above was in its death throes providing home base for a silver-spotted skipper caterpillar. Excellent. The anchor of this composition is all about the negative space. Some three-quarters of this photograph is nothing but muted greens and purples. Plenty of room to breathe. This lends all the narrative drama to our caterpillar friend who finds herself reaching out into the void, seeking her next phase of existence; a transformation into something wholly new and beautiful.
Blue Steps — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 3.2 sec
Blue Steps | Captured: November 18, 2018 | Location: Cedar Run Dock Road, West Creek, New Jersey
Batting cleanup, Blue Steps. Here we arrive at my big hitter in an otherwise thin year. But I confidently declare this photograph would hold up even in my best and most productive years. This blue hour special had that je n’ais se quoi from the get go. Making the shot I knew this one was special. The last of magic hour moody blue light, dead calm seas, and an intricate dock structure on its way toward dereliction. There’s a quality to this image that keeps the viewer locked in, comfortably gazing and setting the mind at ease. It’s no question my personal favorite from 2018.
Partner X — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 800 | EXP 1/80
Partner X | Captured: December 2, 2018 | Location: Bask Hot Yoga, Brick, New Jersey
Devastating changeup. Here’s where I share my new pitch, a total departure from my standard repertoire. In early December I engaged in an actual yoga photo shoot with actual yoga people. It was intimidating and intense, but I better for having given it a shot. Here’s where we turn it into a human interest piece: my girlfriend, Rose, pictured here and highlight of my year, gave me the proper prodding to get out there and do this. Like all great partners she has been a source of inspiration, hope, and the proper kind of growth inducing discomfort.
Coda
Photographic productivity was in short in 2018, and yes, this retrospective does not feature my customary 12 photographs, but I am not going to use this space to go out on a sour note. Life threw me plenty of sweet blessings in 2018: improved health, a wonderful mother/daughter combo, good friends, and a budding yoga practice. Yet while I centered time elsewhere I have not forgotten about photography as a cornerstone in both my personal and creative wellness. While I am not making any specific promises now, I assure you I will be back and better than ever with my photo work in 2019, setting aside a bit more time to return this blog, and more important, this essential hobby. Cheers and thanks for reading.
This evening I made my way to my most familiar of spots: Cedar Run Dock Road. It is my local escape when the quickened pace of life demands a tonic of peace, nature, and a slow burning winter sunset. I am not alone here. Aside from the lucky ones who make this stretch of marsh their home, locals take slow drives on the regular to soak in the sights, sounds, and sunsets. Along the near three mile stretch of road you will never look far to find a slow-puttering car, dogs walking their owners, and friendly denizens commingling amid the splendor. If good vibes and a safe space for introverts to get about are your thing you can do far worse than this place. Of course, watch out for our terrapin friends making their turtle crossings come summer.
It’s a fine open space. A sprawling stretch of salt marsh set about as far as the eye can see. Flanked to the east by Long Beach Island and hemmed in to the west by a stand of cedars and pines, it is far departure from the cluttered, angry, New Jersey suburban sprawl we see on TV. Nature is out there if you know were to go and find it. I’m lucky to never have to go too far.
Thanksgiving has passed and winter works its way across the marsh. The season of contrasting relationships makes way. The sting of biting cold brings the cleansing fresh air. The deep breathe to purify the soul. The truncated days lend us long nights close together. The cold brings fire. The sublime state of snow paints nature’s purest beauty. The deepest freezes set skies alight smoldering deep until the stars burn bright. Winter wisps await upon our fingers’ tips.
Light falls the day gives way to night. A vital coursing of gold ebbs with the sun’s remnants gilded the world in muted blues of peace. Soon, too, this will yield to black. Step through your day and walk ever forward through change. Striding through one present into the next. Cherish the moment of blue serenity as we pivot with purpose from one tangible present into the next.
Remind Up Rewind — 35mm | f/5.6 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/500
Holy smokes Greg posted a photograph? In 2018? 2018, the year of slack, rages on, but here at least is a small reminder to myself and the world, I do, in fact, make photographs. From time to time.
I had the luxury to visit Wells Mills County Park and my wonderful Rose reminded me of a lesson no photographer should ever forget: look up. Look up and keeping looking up. Don’t settle for compositions that set literally in front of your face. Bend your neck back once in a while. It’s good for the spine and good for the mind.
Rose looked up and observed the sublime beauty of trees driving skyward. Coming together toward an invisible vanishing point somewhere in the great beyond. A dome of tranquility beneath which keen observers may take note while those oblivious can walk under in shelter. The world is full of many wonders whether we actually see them or note.
The Auspices — 14mm | f/8.0 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Do you make much of signs? Omens, auguries, celestial alignments? Perhaps we but note the signs we wish to see dismissing the rest as noise? Confirmation bias made visual and symbolic. Yet does it matter if we construct our own signs? Or own futures? When nature mainlines your being to confirm the positive in our better selves we all stand better for it. The mechanism, contrived or divine need not matter. Drink in the tonic it will not harm you.
Today was full of opportunity. A chance to seize and to share. A chance to be better than yesterday. To move forward to new beginnings. It packed all the emotions of wracked nerves to wide the wide open expanse of ease and elation. Today and all its opportunity capped itself in an illumination of natural pastel.
I knew it had been a long while since I last made a sunset photograph. I did not know that gap spanned back all the way to June, 30. Damn near 25% of the year gone without a capture. I know my photography has taken a dip in output and it is my sincere hope the auspices of today are a portents of things to come.
Some Summer Night — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Aside from a fervent two hours of commissioned photography where I popped off some 260 frames back in mid-June, of which I suspect I did a poor job, yesterday, June 29, marked my biggest output of 2018. Shooting flowermacros by day and wide anglesunsets by night, I clocked in some ~150 frames. There is, of course, much more to photography than raw numbers. Volume does not the photographer make. Nevertheless, it was rewarding to be out doing my own thing on my own terms. Especially after tweaking my introversion to the max at an afternoon event. Which social phobias aside, was splendid by the way. Nature’s nightcap by way of a sparkling sunset conferred its own restoration to my soul. A bug strewn boon I met with open arms. Insects aside, rich hues of green, purple, and pink cast glory upon the Dock Roadmarsh.
Come some summer night in late June the marsh is in peak form. Teeming with color and life there is a palpable energy infusing the air. Birds feed and fish run aplenty, all the while bugs and winds sing harmony to the coastal tableau. The color potency of the marsh grass takes my breath away. A powerful panoply of peer green pumping with life. Everything feels so new, so alive. Its ephemeral nature amplifies my appreciation. I know in mere weeks reds and browns will work in upon the marsh as the gregarious greens fall back to more muted tones. Instead of lamenting this change it allows me to focus more on the moment. It brings clarity to each sunset I capture around this time. Moments may indeed be fleeting, but their impact surely lingers on.
