Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: long beach island

The Morning Look
The Morning Look — 35mm | f/5.6 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/30
In my last post I talked fishing. Fishing and photos. Here I offer another sunrise photograph made on 12 November 2023. A simple left to right pan shot to pull the colors across the frame. And what wonderful dawn colors were pulled that day.
For a few years now I have been near all in on panning my landscape frames. And if anything, its personal appeal only grows with time. I often think of ways to articulate my fondness but stumble with awkward, poorly expressed thoughts. An art critic I am not. That said, I’ll stick to basics.
First is color. By moving the camera during shutter depress lines blur, details merge, and color is most of what remains. It breaks down form into little more than moving color. And this color shines best at sunrise and sunset.
Second is movement. The blurred streaks come from panning the camera left to right, level to the horizon. Motion blur. Simple as that. Through this technique the movement of your hand during the exposure works as the hand of the painter brushed upon their oils. Moving the eye, moving the heart.
Third is line work. Sharp line work. At first blush this statement may read contradictory and absurd, but hear me out. By keeping a level camera plane throughout your pan, flat horizons become a razor’s edge. Sharp and defined. This grounds the viewer, placing visual queues of where and how to look. Amid the blur and soft focus it reveals the scene, which brings me to. . .
Abstraction. Fourth is abstraction. Through color, movement, and sharp line work our blurry puzzle is near completion. Even though the often crucial presence of sharpness and detail is missing, the photographer yet conveys the scene with a full, albeit distilled effect. You know this photograph, despite its blur and motion, you know this a beach glowing in the splendor of dawn.
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December 5, 2023
Fish On
Fish On — 35mm | f/5.6 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/15 sec
The mid-Atlantic fall run has brought big smiles and tight lines to striped bass enthusiasts up and down the New Jersey coast. Whether by boat or by surf, the 2023 fall bite has been certifiable. So far this season I have made it out thrice—once by boat, and twice by Ship Bottom surf. Naturally I have zero fish to show for it. My cousin, however, photographed here, had himself a banner day by center console. Too bad I was not there with my camera.
One thing we did catch, however, cold hands aside, was a fantastic 12 November sunrise. During a brief pause in pre-dawn plugging I made this exposure with my 35mm. Given the excitement of fishing, a fiery sunrise, and frozen fingers, I missed precise execution on this frame. Given the sluggish shutter speed the focus is softer than I planned. The good news is that I rather enjoy the effect it’s laid over the final image. It lends a painter’s touch and the 1/15 second exposure gives the foreground sea wash a sense of motion, grounding the sense of place. This is fall run surf fishing at its finest. If only there was fish on.
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December 3, 2023
Sand to Snow
Sand to Snow — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/15
Harvey Cedars locked in ice. A beach paradise locked and bound in frozen bonds of wind driven snow, ice and unstoppable cold. The arctic has found its way south and wrought with it a landscape better tuned to penguins.
Trudging through Harvey Cedars Sunset Park I felt myself alternating discomfort and awe. Foremost was the wonderment. I strode incredulous among magnificent shapes carved by the master hand of wind driven snow. Three to six foot mounds of stratified snow dunes in all directions. Features that would look more at home marking the desert sands. The juxtaposition made more striking contrasted against wide swaths of grass and stone blown free of any trace of snow. This is mind-boggling considering the foot plus that dropped up and down the New Jersey coast less than 24 hours ago. As the snow was busying itself building mesmerizing drifts it was leaving whole swathes of park untouched. Never before have my eyes seen its equal.
Enhancing the displaced winter landscape was the transformation of Barnegat Bay. This familiar waterway left frozen solid and topped with reticulated patterns stretching to the horizon. Any vestige of the summer paradise fell away as it bent the knee before the reign of ice.
Through my wonder a crippling west wind carrying biting cold air tested my limits. Setting up to shoot headfirst into 20 mph sustained winds posed a threat to exposed skin. Despite my layers and heavy dress I struggled for comfort. In a battle of diminishing returns against a relentless enemy I made a few dozen exposures over span of 45 minutes. I will share one or two more photographs in the coming days. In the meantime I am off to thaw a replay the magic frozen before me.
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January 5, 2018
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
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
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
From Stone to Sand
From Stone to Sand — 14mm | f/2.8 | ISO 400 | EXP 1/60
The wheel of time pays little mind to the trappings of ephemeral life. Its burden is the long game. Tireless at work upon the great mill of the universe grinding all back to the stardust from whence we came. The wheel’s is a blind justice—never to grant favor, never put off its task—the laws of physics its only master. As the arrow of time points forward the blossom of our creation journeys back to dust, and onward the mill turns. On and on; working, grinding, rounding. Bringing wear to young life as it works stone to pebble to sand to dust. A spinning wheel of entropy eroding us back to our most basic of constituent parts. This is the game to which we have been cast. Forever turning. Forever worked upon at the cosmic millstone until we are cast back together shone in new light.
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March 26, 2017