Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: landscape

And in the Evening
And in the Evening — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Today is July 2, 2017, and I’d like to drop a historical nugget. Some eager beavers contented by their cache of fun facts (re: me) will care to remind you today is the actual anniversary of U.S. Independence. On July 2, 1776, the Second Continental Congress brought Richard Henry Lee’s motion to break with Britain to the floor for a vote. After several days of much cajoling, New York’s delegation finally acquiesced to abstain from the vote. This critical concession thus allowed unanimous passage of the resolution. Congress knew nothing less than a unified vote cast all in favor would carry the weight needed to bring the ensuing independence to pass. And so it went with a vote of 12-0 with New York agreeing to abstain.
While we all prepare to celebrate another Fourth of July Weekend, let us not lose sight of the momentous vote that took place on this day in 1776. Under the stewardship of brave men at the behest of their constituents this newborn nation embarked on the most consequential break in history. Thus casting the die for revolution and cradling the birth of a nation. I leave you with the words of John Adams, Massachusetts delegate and committee member for writing our Declaration of Independence:
The Second Day of July 1776, will be the most memorable Epocha, in the History of America.
I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more.
John Adams sure had the right of it—albeit two days early.
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July 2, 2017
A Marsh Life
A Marsh Life — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Take a minute. Look upon this photograph. Absorb the green marsh grasses. Feel the blades as they crunch below your feet. Calm yourself as you take note of the sky mirrored below, bending motionless through the sedge as a silken veil masquerading in still water. Now look up to that sky. An explosion of color, texture, power and allure beckons you. A visual display worthy of only the most perfect of sun downs. Mesmerizing cloud shapes are comping coming and going, splayed and stacked to unknowable depth. Finally you find yourself sitting out back of your coastal marsh home. The perfect kind of place that through the travel of years has become an edifice to your very existence. Breathing deep the sweet salt air transposed by the cacophony of colored calm that’s so ensconced your very existent. Fleeting as this minute will be you will take this gift and cherish it as a brief moment in your most perfect existence.
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June 28, 2017
Roll It Over
Roll It Over — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1250
Monday, June 19, 2017, saw an outbreak of severe thunderstorms fire up across the Mid-Atlantic. Eager as ever to make some photographs, Weather NJ’s, Jonathan Carr and I made way for Surf City Sunset Park. While things looked good at the outset the storms lost steam as they charged their way across New Jersey toward the coast. Sinking air spoiled the party as a once potent line of storms was waylaid right before our eyes. Disappointed but not shocked, this is standard fare for us along the coast. Storm lines have a way of falling apart more often than not.
What was more surprising, especially in the face of such ominous skies, were the bay beach goers keen to keep swimming. Oblivious, one family hopped in the water a mere 20 minutes before would be impact. Another woman arrived about 10 minutes later looking to get in some laps. She at least had the good sense to ask me to holler once the weather took a turn. I don’t exactly scare easy in the face of thunderstorms, but even I would have stayed out of the water with electrified air so close. Alas all is well that ends well, no calamity befell our implacable beach goers. Considering the storms were abating it seemed acceptable, otherwise I would have pressed the issue on account of their safety.
Of course storms fired back up after Jon and I bailed on our shooting attempt. For the next 90 minutes or so our region saw some decent storm action as a line of storms backed in from the ocean. Too bad we were too busy eating chicken at that time. And that’s the way it goes sometimes.
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June 24, 2017
The Life Spectrum
The Life Spectrum — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Life has returned to the salt marsh. Sea birds eager to feed. Chasing down fish schools and insect hatches if not willing yet able to provide said feed. The salt scented breezes lend rhythm to sedge grasses reanimated with life. Few things stir the soul like the nascent green of marsh born anew. Fresh color courses with unmasked energy as the circle of life finds its zenith. Only then when paired with the golden hue of the late day sun does nature pull back the veil on life resplendent.
It was just so out on Dock Road yesterday. The culmination of light, life, and timing. A sublime joy found in the realization of a patient annual wait. For the next six weeks or so we’ll find refuge in the glory of the salt marsh come live.
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June 18, 2017
East Watch by the Sea
East Watch by the Sea — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
The Saturday night burn was long and sweet. Like a lasting goodbye to the one we hold most dear. Sunset came, it saw, it conquered. Anxiety fell still to a palette so bright and unmoving it was as though the hands of time ceased to be. Seconds turned to minutes. The minutes, hours. And the hours into untold epochs circling the wheel of time only to flow back on itself. As if under a spell I floated from one patch of sand to the next. Bounding from spot to spot under an endless curtain of rainbow color. So bright was the evening air, as if by some device pinkish hues worked to seep upward from the ground as a warm bog might do when met with a cold morning. When time startled back to work the world fell slow toward a purple hush.
For millennia at least three has been an auspicious number, and so it stands with a triumvirate symmetry that I walk away with no less than three photographs from my Saturday evening jaunt in Surf City. With the first and second already published, it is here I give you the third and perhaps final moment from an evening that will long rest in memory. As I was first learning my craft I was so consumed with photographing the scene that the moment itself was often lost on me. It was an honest greed that consumed me. A singular desire for one great shot, and often little else. Now with more seasoning to my tenure I am back to take on the moment as a means to its own end. The photographs cast as a supporting role to bolster the memory of the mind.
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April 11, 2017
Fortify
Fortify — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
I’m always quick to notice the berm every time I hit the beach. After the sound of the ocean it’s immediately the next thing that calls my attention. It’d be easy to chalk this up to proximity. The berm is the first thing you walk through, but I suspect there’s more to it than that. It’s the form of the mound, the pattern of the sand and grasses, bound together through works of sand fence. Once a bit of time and weather has done its work it lends a hallmark look to Mid-Atlantic beaches. Unencumbered by boardwalk, this adds to the natural feel of Long Beach Island. One of many reasons I am overfond with my geographic neighbor, the slender barrier island to the east.
Built up over the past decade, LBI dunes have gone under a bit of a transformation. Large swaths of berm have gone from modest bumps to a deep running wavelength; added height and depth have fortified the island’s defenses and appeal. Perhaps it’s infringed on a favored view, but I for one find the look far more appealing. A firm separation between innumerable residences spanning the shore and the natural beach. In some sections the dunes shoulder up high enough to block out any semblance of settlement. Beyond the aesthetic this lends a tangible benefit: Protection from the next big surge.
As for this photograph, Saturday night on the beaches of Surf City was something special. This marks the second of three photographs I plan to publish from the session. If you haven’t already check out the first offering. While not made last night this shot reminds me of a bayside photograph I made in Holgate back in 2015. Both the colors and the balance of the composition have a strong likeness.
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April 10, 2017
It Starts My Mind Flowing
It Starts My Mind Flowing — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/25
The day broke clear. Northwest winds funneling crisp air across the coastal plain. One last battle in the fight between winter and spring. Unseen as it was. Sleeping late as usual the day made off with a quick start. Catch up after a long night redeeming Hyrule. I bounded about from laundry to bill pay, then started out to break my fast. Pinched between a Yankee game and a scheduled jog the clock ticking.
After a modest meal I folded some laundry and made for the park. Headphones in, feet moving in time. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot, left foot. Paced to the audible sounds of The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. As Black Riders closed in on Weathertop I could feel the pain of Middle-Earth circling. With a slip of the ring and the pierce of a dagger, Angmar draws first blood. An already long journey has somehow only begun.
Chapter ends and my run is over. Breathless from worry yet rejuvenated in my own realm I took note of cirrus wisps dancing above. Shy and coy upon a blue stage. With a strange speed they moved, and I stood for a moment upon a crest to look again. And again. A cloud dance, I thought. How quaint. Yet it was here I knew sunset would prove worthy this night. For the fiery eye in the land where shadows lie may never rest nor ever die.
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April 9, 2017
Daily Distraction
Daily Distraction — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Since Friday, March 3, I have spent far too much time playing in digital worlds. In a long awaited departure from the real world The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild has consumed me. Total entrenchment. I even bring real world proclivities to Hyrule. Whiling away the hours making landscape photographs during Hyrule’s luxurious sunsets. Dutifully documenting every being (friend or foe), item, weapon, and morsel of food. Even in make believe I am still meant to make photos. It’s almost as if Kyoto made the Sheikah Slate camera app for me alone.
It’d be wrong to call myself a gamer, but video games have been a part of my life since the 80s. As something of a Nintendo fanboy I’ve stayed close to my beloved Zelda, Mario, and Metroid franchises. Relishing in each installment. Jonesing in anticipation for each release. I’ve played some great games of the years, but few have grabbed me like this. And none this strong in over a decade. It’s something to find yourself at 34 head over heels in good old fashion escapism.
I put down the controller this weekend to do some actual adulting. Things like filing taxes, visiting a bierhalle, partaking of brunch, and watching the Yankees. It was a strange, albeit welcome change of pace. I even closed out the weekend visiting the old Dock Road stomping grounds. I made this photo at an oxbow section, a replicate of a shot I made last June. As for tonight? Well after a spot of dinner I’ll be dashing back to Hyrule for more photographs and conquest—there be Rito to find. May we meet upon the mountain, and may we dance upon the shore.
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April 3, 2017
Clear View
Clear View — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/10
Life comes in moments. The best are calm, soft, unpredictable moments. Moments where past and future fall quiet before the present. Moments of awareness proving what the relaxed mind can be. A mind free of worry and regret. Free of what was and what may still come.
Such a moment hit me looking out over Barnegat Bay last week. On the boards I stood transfixed by a sublime gradient of light passing on from sunset to dusk. Its tempo put to time by subtle undulating movement upon an otherwise still sheen of water. Daylight’s last burn playing soft tricks upon its surface. An elemental merger of fire and water.
At one with the moment I stood synchronous with slow, steady breathing. In perfect time with a relaxed heart. A moment where time fell still and the world stopped turning. Sans camera I stood. Breathing. Watching. Observing. The moment and I, together as one.
Back to the real world I looked back toward my trunk and thought, I better make a picture.
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March 29, 2017