This photograph is from this past Saturday night—13 June—and kicked off what turned into a great 24 hours of shooting. A span that even included a sunrise! This photograph is also a reminder that your shooting plans—and, uh, success, failure, etc.—can change on a dime. I was in total laid back cruise mode on Saturday with no plans to shoot whatsoever. The thought never even crossed my mind. For me it’s a none too common experience to forgo even the slightest consideration for shooting in my agenda; it’s just that sometimes in summer, with sunset happening so late, it’s best to just let it go.
This is all just a long way of saying that with one quick glance out the window revealing a variably cloudy sky full of potential, even the most ardent of planners can yield to spontaneity. One quick dash about the house to gather my things and I was off to Dock Road. I arrived at my usual spot and immediately noted a characteristic unique to this sky. With a well positioned low-level cloud deck about the westward horizon, the light was being direct such that all the coloration happened in the north-northwest direction. To explain this better, I used nearly the same position here—in a photograph taken just after sunset—that I used to photograph a sunrise a mere 9 hours later. Pretty neat.
In Morning — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Wake up for sunrise, they said. It’ll be worth it, they said. Who cares if you’re tired? They said. Well score one for the they said internet meme crowd.
I’ve been on a photo making tear these past 24 hours; racking up just over 300 exposures between my iPhone and DSLR. I’ve been shutter pressing, Instagram square formatting, Snapchat story making, Periscope broadcasting content creating machine—a legend in my own mind—or something like that.
Mother Nature brought the goods—a unique northwest facing blue hour last night that I’ll be sure to post in all the usual places over the next few days, as well as some sights from the Seaside Heights boardwalk; finally ending with the sunrise photograph that you see above, taken just after 5:30 this morning. Summer’s in full swing, New Jersey, and I could not be happier.
As far as this shot goes, it just so happened that after returning from Seaside and waking in a friend’s basement at 4:30 a.m. that the perfect confluence of timing brought me to Dock Road and to this sunrise. I’m not a morning person. This is well documented. But as I was driving home during the wee hours of the morning—just as first light was marking the sky in an ominous kind of deep purple—I knew the camera work would be worth my time. Besides, I could always nap it out after. And that’s exactly what I did.
Dock Road was perfect this morning. I spent a good hour roadside taking in the sights, the sounds, and the bugs. But even those blasted no-see-ums couldn’t cramp my style. It was Greg Molyneux’s very own version of Sunrise Earth out there. And while I can’t say when my next sunrise will be, I’m sure glad serendipity worked out in my favor this time around.
Now if you’ll excuse I’m off to spend the rest of the afternoon at the beach.
Lift the Veil — 100mm | f/2.8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/160
The Weather Gods hath decide to play a cold grey trick on we the residents of coastal New Jersey. After what was a perfect Memorial Day Weekend, the cold, the grey, and the rains have set in. Of course on a macro level while this precipitation is most welcome—drought has been creeping in—it does cramp anyone’s weekend warrior status.
I made this photograph was made 5 days ago, and we still haven’t seen a reprieve in the weather. (I have a canceled flight to Austin Texas and a weeks worth of fireplace ignition to show for it). I imagine we all like to think of the Jersey Shore come June as a magical place of sandy beaches and warm sunshine. Too bad we’re just not there yet.
Here’s to the summer warmth that inevitably awaits.
For the Birders: can I get a little bird help? Is that a cormorant chilling on that post?
The Great Gig in the Sky — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/5
One minute your sitting in the back of a four-door Jeep groovin’ on some tunes en route to the Chicken of the Egg to chow down on some wings, and the next minute your banging an emergency left somewhere in Spray Beach to make a mad dash to the beach for world class cloud ignition happening directly overhead. We had but minutes.
I started by haphazardly kicking my flip-flops mid-sprint in the general direction of where street meets beach; camera in right hand, tripod in left. Awestruck and drunk on light, I reflexively and moronically tossed my tripod aside right into the sand and began checking camera settings. Heart thumping, adrenal glands were quick to inform me this color—quite possibly the best I’ve ever seen—wasn’t long for this world. After a few deep breaths and focus regained, I collected myself and my tripod and dusted out the sand as best I could understanding I was effectively out of time.
Once the tripod joints where workable I made a few pretty great shots from my first spot—right along the berm where dune fence marks the walkway. You can see an Instagram of that here. After about 5 minutes making shots I made for the beach itself. Jon Carr was already down there, busy making his own shots with his lovely wife taking in the wonder and the hijinks. By this point the ocean was reflecting the most potent yellow-orange light I’ve been fortunate enough to see. It was in a word otherwordly.
After scurrying down to join them, and as I was catching my breath, a quick glance northward along the beach revealed the secret; exposed jetty rock, perfectly arranged just waiting to be photographed. Unable to leave my muse in wait, I was off on a 300 yard sprint up the beach with Jon yelling encouragingly in the backround, “you can make it!” Here’s where the problems could have undermined it all: first a happy couple were appropriately noting the humor in a guy sprinting up the beach with a camera mounted tripod being wielded more like Gandalf’s staff in battle. The first dozen or so yards were great until my calf muscle strain decided to rear its ugly head; knotted up I bit the pain and kept jogging to these jetty rock. Throwing caution and my camera’s welfare to the wind, there was no way I was missing this chance.
My excitement subsumed the pain, and with a few more deep hand stabilizing breaths, I dug my heels and the tripod in the wet sand, composed my frame, and made what is now my favorite landscape photograph to date. And where I almost always post bracketed photographs for my landscapes—consisting of usually 7 exposures—I only needed one here. The light was so beautifully balanced there was no need to go further and merge it with the six other photographs, each exposed one stop apart from the other.
Bayside Living — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Made just last night, I can assure you the light chasing on Long Beach Island’s southern tip was spectacular. A+ conditions, really. With pockets of haze and roiling cumulus clouds rolling west to east the setup was spectacular; late day light was creating all kinds of unique effects rendering ideal conditions for what’s easily the best photograph I’ve made in months—at least as far as I’m concerned.
After bouncing around from spot to spot, we ultimately settled on this Holgate bayside locale to make photographs. This little hideaway Holgate park on the eastern shore of Little Egg Harbor, coupled with the hallmark cedar siding and the sharp lines on the edifice of this bayfront property seen above, provided a spot on composition as far as I’m concerned. The intense light bouncing off the clouds created an intense gradient of yellow to blue as you let your eyes move from left to right across the photograph. I think it might be a while before I make another shot that trumps last night’s drama.
Last night was easily the most fun I’ve had behind the camera in months.
Southside on the Bayside — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
I’ve got 18.6 miles of opportunity just to my east. It’s time I embrace it. Long Beach Island is a wonderful place—and now that I’ve found purpose by way of camera—I want to connect with my geographic neighbor better. See it in a better light if you’ll excuse me the super cheesy phrase. Particularly I want to scout LBI’s southern side. A place I’ve spent plenty of formative time growing up failing to appreciate what was staring my square in the face. There’s got to be plenty of great places to make photographs over there, and I want to find them.
As for this here photograph? It was made last night on the west end of Engleside Avenue in Beach Haven. Just outside the newly opened Tucker’s (it’s good to see that back). It’s a simple parking lot overlooking some docks and Little Egg Harbor. This time of year, late Spring, offers a straight away view of the sunset. Allowing you to really line it up if that’s your thing.
Conditions were pretty great last night, cloud wise. A small cell with heavy downpours managed to form just to my south. For a moment there seemed a real chance lightning might happen. While that never materialized, it was a quality shoot all-in-all. Minus the bugs. To hell with them.
With evening onshore flow winning the atmospheric battle for the second day in a row heading west was the lone option for sunset photos. To the Top of the World we go.
Upon reaching said destination I began mentally framing my shot. Take a few 360° head scans across the pygmy pines. Look up. Kneel down. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Let’s hear it for #process. From this vantage point there are two pitch pines that always command my attention. Each standing twice the height of the almost comically small pitch pines running out the entire landscape in all directions. It’s a neat place. A place Gulliver might recognize.
As far as the photo making goes—I want to work more on portrait (vertical) orientation photographs. I have always found them difficult to make, fortunately there are others who produce the most wonderful images from this perspective. While I’ve had a few successes it’s a blindspot in my wide angle landscape game I hope to address with time and practice. Failure and success.
Lots of credit to Jon Carr. He nailed it when he picked Stafford Forge for tonight’s location for optimal sunset shooting.
With cirrus clouds filling the air, tonight had the earmarkings of a good one. The light was energized, the temperature was crisp, and the natives (me) were restless. A veritable perfect storm for picture making. The only threat was a low level marine cloud layer, but its threatening presence along the westward horizon proved little more than a bluff as it did not inhibit the sky palette from coloring in any way whatsoever. Once the sky was coloring up at our backs, on the east side, the worries of another cloud-out drifted away. Hope sprung eternal.
What happened over the next 15 minutes was a combination of photo making enjoyment and good old fashion natural wonderment. It’s such a thrill to watch the entire dome of the sky paint itself as a clock would—the colors slowly marching from east to west over the great arc in the sky. It was when the color was at our zenith that I quickly abandoned the westward shot I had all framed up with my tripod in order to make the photo you see above. Sometimes you’ve got to be ready to call the audible when Mother Nature surprises you with better light elsewhere.
Tonight was a lot of fun. This photograph is just icing on the cake.
Cross Process the Forge — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
I hate to say but picture making just hasn’t been much fun lately; and while it’s hard to puzzle out whether it’s for lack of inspiration, poor mood, shoddy shooting conditions, a plateauing of skills or something else entirely. Either way it’s been a grind. Last night was just another blip on the here comes another busted sunset radar. Almost just hasn’t been almost enough for what feels like months now.
So what’s to be done when natural light doesn’t live up to its end of the bargain? We play with sliders and presets in post processing—or at least that’s what I do. Some might say this works to flex the creative muscles. I would say it’s more like pressing a bunch of buttons hoping something interesting happens that will help bail out another ho-hum photograph.
Ironically enough I actually like this picture. I just wish I had more control of the process and felt a little better doing it.
