This is the Time — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/20
Well folks, we made it. Another Memorial Day Weekend is upon us. The unofficial start of summer for we the people of the LBI Region. A time when hopes and dreams reach their zenith. School is ending. Love is fresh and life is in full bloom. Temperatures rise along with the excitement of a summertime full of memories to be made. Personally the stretch of days that run from Memorial Day Weekend up through and including the Fourth of July represents my absolute favorite portion of the Gregorian calendar. Hands down. I cannot—I will not!—be moved from this position. The days are long and the nights are full of wonder. While it may not be my best stretch for photos, it is a lifelong love affair with this time of year that far and away predates my time as Camera Man. It lifts me greatly from my usual anxiety fueled disposition. Let’s make this summer great. Let’s be kind to one another; let’s hit the beach; and let’s get out there and support our local businesses that rely so heavily on a productive summer season. We can do it. We can set the stage for a good time had by all. We can make it happen.
Kicking it back to Monday evening, back to Ship BottomSunset Point. (That’s two shots in a row!) Only this time I tried my hand with vertical orientation—or portrait orientation—camera work. Unlike run-of-the-mill horizontal orientation, it’s a technique that doesn’t come easy to me; but it’s hard to argue with its intrigue—particularly at wide angles. I think it works best when you have low level foreground with which to get up close and personal. From there angle your frame such that you have roughly two-thirds of the ground composed and you are good to go.
Now for some self-critique: I may have gotten a little too close to my foreground. My mistake is betrayed by the loss of focus in the very bottom section of the frame. Had I been more aware I could have 1) backed my tripod up another inch or two, or 2) stopped down to f/16 or f/22. I typically don’t like stopping down that much as it does start to diffuse your photograph’s overall focus. It does, however, widen the overall acceptable field of focus. Trade-offs, man. It’s all about trade-offs.
Monday night after doing the 9–5 thing I made my way to Ship BottomSunset Point. It had been a while since I did some photo things from this Long Beach Island location. It’s a cool little spot nestled bayside, and it holds a tender place in the Greg Molyneux memory bank. For three seasons (2003-2005) I spent my summer days working for Ship Bottom Public Works. Great times with great friends, and a cool full time staff of dudes to boot. I learned a lot those three summers, and I miss it from time-to-time.
Walking through the park my mind was oscillating back and forth between the then and now; first considering how well manicured and pruned up the park is, then panning to past memories and an unavoidable lament of where the hell the time has gone? Life is full of these moments I suppose. Past. Present. Future. Events and people long gone. This wasn’t a sad experience, however. Instead there was an upwelling, an appreciation for the opportunity and for the good times had by all. May the joys of youth forever shine.
Wild weather bore down on Surf City’sSunset Park yesterday afternoon. I was fortunate enough to be out storm chasing with JC of Weather NJ fame, and we set up shop on a favorite Long Beach Island bay beach. With a dead west exposure over Barnegat Bay, winds were already ripping from the same direction, and a well defined shelf cloud was easily seen contrasted by the dark brooding cloud shadows behind it. Most striking, however, was the eerie green hue that illuminated the roiling bay water. It was an unnatural savage green, amped by full afternoon sun pouring in unfiltered from the south that was magnified as it bounced off the cumulonimbus cloud bottom. This, in effect, created lighting conditions that would be something akin to millions of pool table lights draped only feet over the bay. It was one heck of a sight. I’m sure my Snapchat followers could hear my excitement. (Not to mention a few expletives born of exuberance.)
No less than two minutes after popping off the photo above, the gust front made landfall, temperatures dropped 20 degrees within 10 seconds (no exaggeration), and the winds went from about 35 mph sustained to ~60 mph. Severe storm criteria is defined as 58 mph winds or greater, and we were certainly there. Of course, the lion’s share of thunder and lightning slipped just to our north, but man it was fun being out there. Talk about a charge of energy. Here’s a short film JC shot to give you a sense of the sandblasting wind. (That’s me standing out there trying to capture cellphone footage.)
I, Phragmites — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/4000
Phragmites are an invasive species robbing valuable real estate from indigenous plant life due to the dense stands that’ll readily form and quickly grow. Efficiently conquering pristine lands like an imperialist in heat. To the uninitiated conquistador like me, they seemingly fit right in to the natural surroundings—adding almost picturesque sight lines that appear to fit right in to any naturally occurring coastal Mid-Atlantic landscape. It was only recently I learned they weren’t supposed to be here. But many of us aren’t supposed to be here, are we?
On just about any day that ends in ‘Y’ I certainly feel like a phragmites. A central Jersey transplant to Manahawkin, New Jersey, in the summer of ’93 I’ve always felt something of an outsider to the region. My insecure sense of being as coastal imposter only magnifies when I venture over to the nearby barrier island that is Long Beach Island. Here I’m twice removed; not just a Mainlander but a suburban sprawl transplant as well. You see no matter how hard I try, I’ll never climb the podium to gain acceptance as a True Local™. Sure I can wear flip-flops year round, pretend I’m clued into the the scene, all while living a few short miles from the beach, but I’ll never be one of The People. If only in my own mind.
But this is all our struggle, isn’t it? Just where to fit in?
Change Your Latitude — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/20
I made my way to Surf CitySunset Park last night with modest hopes of capturing a sunset. It’s been a while since I’ve produced some wide angle goodness, and I was eager to get off the schneid. Of course a low level maritime layer brought in a cloud deck to provide just enough blocking of the sun angle. It was a shame too, as the cold air was really firing the pastels on the high level cirrus clouds blocked out by the marine layer. Plans thwarted yet again.
After a few minutes hemming and hawing and with light fading fast, I opted to switch to the 35mm lens to try to make something out of nothing. From there any kind of skill went out the window in favor of unscientifically hoping for the best. Short on light I set my aperture wide open and dangled the camera body about an inch off the shoreline. From there I popped off a few shots hoping to get lucky and find something interesting waiting on my memory card. The result can be seen above. In hindsight I should have stopped down to f/2.8 and bumped my ISO to 400—maybe 640. This would have given me a bit more depth to my area of acceptable focus, and, coupled with the higher ISO, would have given me a bit more sharpness overall. Alas.
Better Off Bayside — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/80
I thought about ending this photograph’s title with a question mark to convey the right inflection to reflect my second guessing as where to shoot yesterday. After Friday’s snow I was back to my regularly scheduled sunset shooting on Saturday. Initially I was going to head to Great Bay Boulevard, but idling at the intersection of Nautilus and Route 72 I had a change of heart. Perhaps not up for the longer drive due to hunger I tossed the plan and made for Surf City’sSunset Park.
While this spot seldom disappoints I knew I was taking a bit of a gamble. Over the winter months, as well as the tail end of fall and early spring, with the sun setting at a more southwest orientation it’s sometimes difficult to make a good angle from this purely westward facing spot. For that reason I abandoned bringing the sun disk into the frame. Relying on theater of the mind the sun can be envisioned off screen quite far to the left of my frame. This all worked out, however, with soft wisps of clouds coloring up nicely over the lightly rolling three inch waves lapping the sand and pebbles just on shore.
It was a peaceful seen along Barnegat Bay, and several revelers made it to the shoreline to say goodbye to the day. At least three or four folks with their cameras, and what looked to be a gentleman tucked away in the northwest corner possibly making a time lapse. It’s always nice to see others making the most of the sunset muse. Yet with that my focus shifts back to the upcoming snow potential across the mid-Atlantic over the next 72 hours; because where there’s snow potential, there’s photo potential.
Leading Lines and Lazy Misfires — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/6 sec
GRUMBLE, GRUMBLE . . .
No, original NES Link, I’m not a hungry Goriya looking for a free lunch. Instead I’m just a dude (probably hungry) who’s going to spend a few hundred words whining a bit about what might have been. I like this photograph. I like it more than the one I posted last night—and here comes the but—but man did I turn this into a rush job. A rush job thereby leaving me without the stillness and subsequent sharpness I come to expect of myself and my photographs. Sure there’s a time and a place for soft edges and blurred lines, this was not one of those times.
It’s not uncommon for me to remove my camera body from its tripod head once I’ve settled on my shot of the night. Last night was no different. With a few minutes of time to kill, and a stunning pastel light show happening opposite of sunset over the ocean toward the northeast, I popped off a few handheld shots. Here’s where the lazy misfire comes into play. In my haste to make a shot I should have noticed that my shutter speed was down to 1/6 of one second. At a 14mm focal length this pushes sharpness to its limits. As a general rule when I am photographing handheld I try to never shoot at a shutter speed less than the focal length of my lens. So if I’ve got my 100mm on I tend to stay north of 1/100 of a second; rocking my nifty fifty I stay above 1/50, and so it goes. Of course there are exceptions, and if I take the time to still my legs, slow my inhale and depress the shutter in between breaths, I am able to push this further but I digress.
I took neither the time nor the care to make sure I was appropriately still yesterday, and have been kicking myself for it ever since seeing this shot in Lightroom. In hindsight I should have done one of two things: 1) move my tripod to reposition for this shot, rendering the sharpest and cleanest possible outcome, or 2) I at least should have dialed up my ISO to 400 to give me a quicker shutter speed for a sharper image. (At 400 ISO the shutter would be 4 times faster than at 100 while at the same aperture).
Now if you’re sitting back looking at this photo thinking Greg, you’re crazy! well you wouldn’t be wrong, but you also wouldn’t be entirely right. Viewed small enough this photograph appears quite sharp, quite clean. But if you blow it up and look close enough, particularly at the shells in the sand, you will clearly see the absence of sharpness. The ghosting around the shells gives my misfire away. It shows just enough camera shake during the 1/6 exposure. Enough shake to keep this from being a candidate for any kind of medium to large print. Le sigh. As to whether this is a lesson learned the hard way, we shall see. If you made it this far thanks for listening to me vent, I think it’s important to openly share our mistakes.
Holgate Time — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Holgate, New Jersey. Long Beach Island’s southern most tip makes for some high drama in the dead of winter. Considering its south-by-southwest orientation it aligns splendidly for the southwest sunsets that render over the winter months; giving photographers options to shoot toward the southwest, or to maintain a southeastern angle to work the shore break into the frame. (As I did in the photo above.) I can’t act like Holgate was my idea. All hats be tipped—real or imagined—go to Jeff Ruemeli who called me a little after 2:00 p.m. to let me know he had it on good authority that winter storm Jonas wreaked some havoc down there, and he had heard other photographer’s lauding its praises.
While I did Instagram a cellphone photograph of one of the uncovered jetties, I went with a more conventional exposure for my main image. The undulating sand was impossible to ignore, and after a brief warm up in the car, I set to working out how best to convey the pattern. Admittedly I struggled determining the optimal height to expose the photo. I wanted to get close enough to draw the eye to the reticulated sand, but still wanted to ensure the shore break was discernible across the center of the image.
I went back and forth between posting this or a vertical orientation exposure that I made handheld from a single frame. While I compositionally prefer the other shot, because it was handheld at a somewhat sluggish 1/6 of a second shutter it just wasn’t quite as sharp as it needed to be. Certainly not sharp enough to render cleanly at a large enough size. Imperfections aside I still may post it here tomorrow as the leading lines of the photo are a real standout. We’ll see.
Big time shout out to the kite surfer battling the elements and working the shore break big time. He owned that steady wind out of the south-southeast, and was riding with noteworthy balance and endurance. He went non-stop for what must have been an hour, seldom if ever coming off his board. Yeah, and it wasn’t exactly warm out there, either. Cheers, buddy.
