One more photograph from August 25, 2016. After making my first frame I periscoped my tripod head right to left from a west to southwest orientation. My reasons were twofold: 1) the high level cirrus clouds were a more impressive pastel color toward the south, and 2) I wanted to get a different angle on the jetty rock situated in the foreground. It was a simple adjustment while largely staying in place that breathed new life into the composition. Plus it brought more of the compacted wet sand into the frame. Churned up sand festooned with countless random footprints does something fierce to my OCD. As it is I’m always drawn to a palette of untainted sand.
A now for something slightly different: I made a video! A brief, 87 second job from the same position and setup as this photograph. Obviously I need some practice—not to mention a noise canceling microphone to dampen the wind—but it’s a start. Someday time lapse and film will become a thing for me. Hopefully.
I made my way over to Long Beach Island last night. It was a beautiful evening and considering the calendar’s rude notion that summer is quickly winding down it seemed worthwhile to capitalize on a resource that will soon be in short supply—warmth. Initially I defaulted to my usual LBI summer spot, Surf CitySunset Park. As I pulled into a parking space, however, I was met with an innumerable populace milling about the bay beach performing all manners of bay beach acts. Selfies, swimmies, chair sitters, gazebo dwellers, swingers (the park swing kind, people—let’s keep it on the up and up), walkers, basketballers and the like were also making the most of this resource known by some as a warm summer’s eve. Daunted, I fell back to Plan B.
Instinctively I knew where to retreat. Like Washington stealing his army out of Brooklyn and into Manhattan by boat under the cover of darkness and right under General Howe’s nose, I sought refuge at a place that has long provided sanctuary to the man called Molyneux. OK so this wasn’t like Washington’s daring retreat that saw no loss of life at all, but considering that happened in late August—August 29, 1776 to be exact—I figured I’d drop a real non sequitur into this post. You may thank me for your new fun fact that will aid you in your barstool trivia quest later. You see, jumping back to things that are actually relevant I spent three summers working for Ship Bottom Public Works. From 2003–2005 I spent May–September toiling away with friends and coworkers alike, doing our best to keep the public facilities of Ship Bottom free and clean. In doing so I staked daily responsibility to Ship Bottom Bay Beach. From 7:00 a.m.–9:00 a.m. sweeping away parking spots full of sand, pitchforking a night’s load of seaweed from the bathing beach, and the obligatory Dumping of the Trash with the Slacker was the order of the day. Keeping things in tip-top shape, our pride.
To the northern end of the bay beach sits a park. Ship BottomSunset Point to be precise. A small park filled with all the things that a park make. Things like benches, placards, flowers and shrubberies, memorial bricks, a gazebo and a bird hotel that puts my own residence to shame. Somehow this is all crammed into a space of about 5,000 square feet of sandy land if I had to guess. Yet when it is grown in full at peak season it affords all the coverage and privacy one could wish for. To its western edge sits a sandy beach running the course of the bay. It was along the jetty rock of said beach I made this photograph last night.
I’ve Been Searching for a Marsh of Gold — 35mm | f/5.6 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/800
Vantage points matter. Not just in photography but in life as well. If we keep looking out at the Candy Land game board of human existence from the same height, the same level, we’re bound to miss out on new perspective and ostensibly new ideas. Our dice roles repeatedly coming up snake eyes and into the Molasses Swamp we sink. Ofttimes the same old thing may may breed new life when seen from a different visual plane. So get out there—look up, look down, get on your hands and knees and climb high to peer out over a sugar-fused world.
Of course being a south Jersey flatlander the climb high bit is at times wee problematic. Especially if you’re not toting a 30 foot ladder in your back pocket. Enter Long Beach Island and its litany of rooftop decks. But please, no trespassing. More specific to this example is the top deck at the Long Beach Island Foundation of the Arts and Sciences. Flanking the main building to the north is a wing of classrooms, and above said classrooms sits one of many rooftop deck devices. Here one is afforded a primetime view out over the bayside marsh to the west. Romance optional. From this vantage point viewers are treated to an unimpeded view of about 300 yards of pristine salt marsh. From there the marsh bleeds out to the bay—deep breath… ah! Better still is the view off to the distance of both an osprey platform and its subsequent osprey blind—perfect for up close and personal bird watching. (Alas they’re quite small in this photograph, but if you squint hard enough and tap your toes three times you’ll see them. Or you could just click the last two links to see the YouTube videos.)
Ray of Hope — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Much needed rain falls and here I sit content at my computer hammering out a post for a photograph I made last night. It was only yesterday happenstance and convenience brought me to Harvey Cedars Sunset Park after an art show at Long Beach Island Foundation of the Arts and Sciences. You see it was only two days ago I learned I had a photo in an art show, and it was only yesterday I learned said art show’s opening was set to take place only hours later. Considering my recovery attendance was hardly mandatory, but in my own head it would be welcome. Feeling well enough and eager to get out of the house I made my way.
The evening went on well enough. Finely dressed LBIF patrons donning pastel polos, flowing linens while strapped in sandals with casually done up hair and designer sunglasses milled about the main gallery. Seasoned veterans of art and culture made purposeful gazes and meaningful nods while doling out learned platitudes toward many of the pieces on display. Trapped in my own ignorance I was just there for the food—and was wearing a polo of my own. Before me a fine spread of items I can’t pronounce, ingredients I don’t understand, and elaborate skewers contorted into the most circuitous of shapes. I supposed that’s one way to cut down on the speed with which one eats? This offered quite a juxtaposition to the Coors Light bottles posted on the table’s right flank. Perhaps a purposeful dichotomy? Or is safer to assume one cannot get through an art show without a touch of irony?
After the show’s juror said some kind words toward a few of the real standout pieces, things really got serious as the evening made a welcomed pivot to a Pokémon GO gym takedown. My first such battle. With our Team Valor ranks full we made our stand and usurped power from the gym perviously held by Team Mystic. I didn’t know what the hell was going on as I fervently tapped the screen but we won, and maybe I’ve at least made it sound cool? OK, no? Moving on…
With the digital madness behind us I made my next pivot of the evening to the cloud structure and crepuscular rays fanning out across the marsh behind the Foundation. Clearly it was time to go for the camera. For the next 20 minutes or so I put the 35mm to work at LBIF. Golden hour was peaking but my muse turned toward sunset—my inescapable mistress. Knowing Harvey Cedars Sunset Park was but a few miles south I declared my intentions to my friends, my clan, my Team Valor, and made my egress and turned toward the park. Sunset was now the name of the game.
As I walked out to the jetty rock I set up shop with tripod and camera. The park was well attended—as it should be on a stellar summer evening—and many folks were set about the benches to take in the day’s last goodbye with friends and loved ones. Almost immediately I was joined by a mother-daughter combo making photos on their iPhones. They noted my gear and ostensible seriousness which always makes me a touch self-conscious as I feel it ups expectations of my photo output. Admittedly this is most likely self-conscious me overthinking an otherwise benign situation. Not long after I was joined by my Team Valor patriots and we went about our time spending the next half hour taking in a glorious Saturday evening in August. With my health in flux these past few months the calming scene and beaming sunset rays filled me with a wellspring of hope for the future.
Saturday, August 6, 2016, the unexpected came to pass. Mrs. and Mr. Weather NJ came by to scoop me for a little weekend dinner action on Long Beach Island. We brought along the camera equipment just in case the sunset would pop. We were cutting it close on time and originally decided that Cedar Run Dock Road would be our best photo destination considering the time crunch. Instead—and in true Jon Carr fashion—the turn for Route 9 South was completely missed and with it so too was Dock Road. Insert audible. With what appeared to be a cloud out at our back we made for Surf CitySunset Park. Crossing the new Manahawkin Bay Bridge my expectations were low.
Upon arrival at the park the place was loaded with revelers and cellphone cameras. I always feel good when I see folks out taking in the sights and taking their shot at landscape photography. The more the merrier, I say. To the south a crescent moon could be seen, while to the west a mean shelf cloud was barreling eastward. We had known a line of storms was heading to the area, but honestly the radar was not all that impressive. Are you noticing a theme of underselling the evening yet? Eager to capture the shelfie, I took out the camera and swapped my 100mm lens for the ultra wide 14mm. It seemed like the prudent move except the humidity had a better idea. Instant fog problems—my lens was immediately coated in moisture. That quickly put the kibosh on my shooting—or so I thought.
As the clocked ticked away the initial line of thunderstorms moved through. Aside from a solid gust front and some dramatic clouds, it didn’t produce any lightning or rainfall at our location. Just a few bolts of lightning to the north. A few minutes later things started to get interesting. About 30 miles to our west, over Hammonton, New Jersey, a storm cell began to redevelop. Radar proof need not apply as its growth was betrayed by a towering cumulonimbus cloud growing before our eyes. Like something off the set of Ghostbusters this monolith of water vapor and energy grew larger and closer. Its cloud tops reaching high enough to begin sheering off into an anvil. It was awesome. The gust front, it seems, provided just enough of a trigger to ignite the latent storm growth. As a shooter this presented the perfect opportunity: an isolated cell from the perfect vantage point with no rain to mess up the shot. Also, by now enough time had passed to free my lenses from their foggy prison. I was back in the game.
From there on it was all about finding the optimal frame to capture the Manahawkin Bay Bridge; the impressive cumulonimbus tower; and the pastel glow that reignited at dusk thanks to the angle afford by the high cloud tops. It was the perfect storm—from no expectations came the best storm setup I have encountered to date. From there on out I put my 35mm lens to work, making long exposure after long exposure, hoping to time up a shot just right with a lightning strike. Fortunately I got some cloud to ground action mixed in with a truly dramatic sky. I couldn’t be happier with how things panned out. I now have in my possession my best storm photograph to date.
Oh, and as for food—an LBI dinner never happened. That, too, was an audible to Element on account of large crowds. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow.
Light Up The Senses — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/6
Here it is—photo number 4 from Sunday, June 5, 2016. Real life has negated any and all attempts at photography the past week or so leaving me desperate to go to the well once more. At least its a deep well. A fresh well full of cold, clean water. Sustenance of the highest order—figuratively speaking in this well. Honestly I wanted to post this photo much sooner, but again, see comment regarding real life. Time to digress—
I like this shot. I like it a lot. Sure, the rain drops on my 14mm get in my perfectionist craw, but I will try to embrace the “rawness.” Going vertical for the composition allowed me to bring the sky drama into a more comprehensive view. With the whole of the sky torched in pastel fire, the more conventional landscape orientation wouldn’t convey to the viewer the height and scope of the sky. Fortuitously a little bay wave came crashing over at just the right time, with just enough lazy shutter, to bring movement and detail to the foreground. This serves as an ideal counterbalance to a sunset sky loaded down with endless detail.
With the weekend finally here maybe I can sneak it some time to do a little shooting?
More Sunday action, people. One more to go and then I can finally move on from last week. As far as the sequence of shots goes, this was the first photo made. Before the rainbow and before the sunset I first posted. Rain was just starting to fall and I was enthralled by the orange glow bouncing off the stormy cloud deck. All was awash in orange, and while I was left to hide under gazebo cover as the rains came I made this handheld shot. (Hence the ISO 400 to get the exposure time up to 1/30—no tripod for this one.)
What drew me to this composition, aside from notable light, was the symmetry of the scene. While I try to bring balance to all my shots it’s rare when I center up all the key elements of the frame. That’s essentially what we have here—with the sun just a tick to the left of center. It’s a soothing shot. A calming photograph leaving behind two empty benches to fill in with your own story.
From One End To The Other — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Kicking it back to Sunday again. With light so good you know there’s gonna be at least a few photographs posted from what was a jaw-dropping 15 minute light show. With rain once again falling as the final moments of sun pulsed through a narrow opening in the cloud deck to the west an eastbound and down rainbow was all but inevitable. One quick turn to the oceanside and there it was—arcing majestically over Long Beach Island homes bathed in rich gold. With the pulse rate thumping I did the best I could to capture the rainbow while staying under just enough Sunset Park gazebo coverage to keep my lens dry. I’m not going to sit hacking away at letters on a wireless keyboard pretending this is the kind of composition I would have wanted, but considering the circumstances—notably falling rain and a ticking rainbow clock—this is the best I could muster. And so it goes, shot number two from Sunday. At least one or two more still to come.
The Home Fire Still Burns — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/5
Sunday began what is now day four in a stretch featuring potent storms, dramatic clouds, and fiery sunsets. While I’ve been tied down and largely unable to shoot, it’s been impossible to miss what has to be the best consecutive stretch of sky goodness in recent memory. New Jersey based social media accounts have been set afire with countless jaw-dropping photographs for the better part of a week. Thanks to ubiquitous smartphone adoption the degree of documentation has sailed far beyond unprecedented levels. Everyone is a photographer now, and I think it’s is great. Scrolling through my Instagram feed this week has been a total treat.
Above is my small contribution for the week. This photograph was made at Surf CitySunset Park on Sunday evening. Strong to severe storms were powering across the mid-Atlantic, bringing strong winds and heavy rainfall. Unfortunately the line fizzled just as it made its way to the coast. While a proper shelf cloud never materialized over Barnegat Bay, it was becoming readily apparent the clearing would time up perfectly with sunset. My friends and I bailed from our Barnegat Light thunderstorm position and made our way south into Surf City. From there it all came together. To the east was a properly majestic double rainbow backlit by a stunning array of pink storm clouds. To the west, a potent sunset stretched across the sky. So powerful was the light differential from sun to storm clouds that auto white balance was rendered effectively useless; leaving RAW files cast in a strong purple hue if left untouched. When this extreme is achieved you know you are in the presence of some properly dramatic light play. For me, I was simply dumbfounded; left holding my gear, smiling ear to ear.
