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.
A narrower view — 40mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 3 Bracketed Exposures
Just about everything was different with tonight’s shoot. For whatever reason I hopped out of the car, scanned the scene, and decided today would be a good day for shooting with my 40mm. It’s not too often I shoot landscape with my 40mm pancake, and considering today’s results I’d do best to work it into the landscape/sunset rotation on the regular. Seriously, this is the work of three bracketed shots—handheld no less—on a prime lens that costs a little over $100! I can’t recommend it enough, especially for the full frame shooters out there.
The other departure from the norm, aside from ditching the tripod and bailing on my usual manual focusing with my 14mm, came from Mother Nature herself. More often than not—it unscientifically feels greater than 90% in my experience—the optimal color range occurs after the sun goes down. By the time I grabbed my tripod, switched to my 14mm, and waited for the sun to sink below horizontal, the best light had come and gone. It was my 40 and my bare hands that made it work tonight. Photography is never without surprises.
Wherever possible I try to get my photos on the computer and processed with little time wasted. Doing so closes out my mental workflow. In a relatively short period of time I’m able to produce something tangible (digitally speaking) to share with you. I, in turn, get to let go and immediately transition my brain to the next shot. Photography is liberating in this way: I build an online archive to record my evolution, quite literally storing the past, to do my remembering for me. Perhaps it’s not without irony that this virtual memory bank releases me to quickly and naturally forget. My past work goes out with the old—paving the way for the new. To chasing the better shot. To knowing I have to be there, at all times, ready to shoot, over and over again; committed to waiting out that perfect light I’ve been chasing for years. Anticipating that future pay-off is what drives this passion of mine. Pushing me ever forward with my craft.
How does this relate to this shot? This is a holdover from last week. Taken on the Eleventh of September. It’s hung with me for a while. I attended my cousin’s wedding (a lovely affair) this weekend, and with the travel schedule this post went by the wayside. Thinking back to that day last week, 9/11, I did my best to reconcile this day. Its meaning. The mighty weight that comes with it. It’s an open wound for us all, and a thousand fold for all our brothers and sisters directly affected.
It’s impossible to find words, at least for me, that do any justice with respect to that day. The best I can do is continue to hope the world manages to find its way and work toward a more perfect future. One where future generations can look back with incredulity at how petty our differences once were. In the meantime, all the best forever and always to the victims, first responders, and family and friends to all who were dealt such senseless wrath.
