Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: macro

  • Jane Says

    Jane Says

    Single Jane Magnolia bud photographed in macro at 100mm focal length.
    Jane Says — 10mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/5003.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/500

    I bought my home from my parents in October 2009. Built in 1993, my parents put in much work to cultivate a lovely yard through the years. Cue up yard work montage footage full of old clothes and dated hairstyle. And yes, I bought the house I grew up in. Under my ownership I have made great work undoing their great work. A once proud yard has fallen into disrepair under my watch. Where once there was lush grass there is the lingering remains of fescue. Where plants and flowers once thrived there is the unkempt overgrowth of perennials. All flanked by an uncontrolled spread of weeds. A groundskeeper I am not.

    For whatever reason a shrub that had been for years on the brink, has returned to its former glory. A least in part. A Jane magnolia, photo above, has undergone something of a renaissance in my side yard. It has flowered up better than at any point in the last four years or so. With it injecting a most welcome infusion of purple to the yard. It’s a pleasing contrast to the yellow explosion of otherwise out of control forsythia marking the property’s edge. While the wheels have come off my lawn it’s nice to have some picturesque reminders of better days.

    This lyrically inspired title comes from Jane’s Addiction, “Jane Says,” of course.

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  • Withering

    Withering

    Withered Japanese maple leaf macro black and white photograph.
    Withering — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 800 | EXP 1/320

    Winter rains descend unceasing. Blanketing the land in fog and gray. Dampness seeps into every corner. An unquenched avarice tasked to steal warmth wherever it may lay. There is no quarter. The wheel of time erodes the land upon its grindstone. Unconcerned with the changes wrought churning out universal meal. Always turning. Destroying. Creating. Transforming. Always turning.

    We grow. We flourish. We wither. We die. We renew. The great circle of all things coiling back upon itself. The world snake consuming its own tail. We are come. We are gone. We are return. And so the long night of winter with slow and ever present speed withers to the brighter light of spring. The rebirth is coming. The resurrection of that which sets withering upon the tree of all life ready to bud.

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  • A Farewell to Flowers

    A Farewell to Flowers

    Quick fire hydrangea flower macro photo.
    A Farewell to Flowers — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 400 | EXP 1/160

    Some pink to delight. A touch of green to soothe. An easy beige to calm. A spread of brown to hasten. Fall is upon us as much as this colorful bouquet would show otherwise. If looks could deceive this quick fire hydrangea would take a bow in the starring role.

    Come spring this bush blooms plain enough. Simple white flowers open up, as unassuming as they are unremarkable. Over the next few months playing host to a litany of eager pollinators. As the days turn to weeks and the weeks turn to months, a most curious transition occurs. Once simple white flowers transition into a colorful panoply of pastel beauty. A shield device painted by the unseen hands of the master power. By late fall the color sets in a striking kaleidoscopic array. One last reserve serried up in full regalia ready to wage one last battle of life before winter takes the war. And winter always takes the war.

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  • Eclipse

    Eclipse

    Black-eyed Susan macro photo top down perspective.
    Eclipse — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 400 | EXP 1/200

    A solar eclipse is coming. You know this. On August 21, 2017, cutting a 70 mile wide swath that will stretch from Oregon to South Carolina our Sun will bow before the Moon. For those along its path totality will last less than three minutes. In less than a blink in the cosmic eye observers will see existence as never before; eyes wide, forever changed. The universe and their sense of place therein forever altered, perspective transcended.

    Reflecting on this heavenly vision wonders sketch upon the corners of my mind. What a remarkable coincidence we humans care to observe. That in a moment our lone satellite orbits at perfect proportion. Passing through a gravitational sweet spot. An exacting position poised to blot our mother star with mathematical precision. A coincidence made more profound considering the Moon’s drift from Earth since its violent inception. Through the eons the Moon has been on a path outwards; as though adding length to the spinning lasso the mechanics of gravity are at work. We stand at right place at the right time to observe a perfect distance to size ratio rendering Sun and Moon as though identical in size. The incomprehensible unlikely hood that we are in the here and now, sentient and able to process is astounding.

    I carry this reflection further by drifting back deeper into the past. My thought experiment settles on the effect this must have had on our species sans scientific enlightenment. This supernatural feat could only have been the work of the heavens. Powerful gods. Deities exerting their will to bring night where there was once day. Like the arrival of a comet observers must have cowered before ominous portents. As best they could the wise would convey esoteric messages upon their people to explain away the signs. Yet in our darkest periods there may not have been systems for any such explanation. At some point before oral histories passed this would pass as unique and terrifying event. What a time to be alive that we can observe this event and appreciate its machinations as they are. With humble understanding we are but a spec standing on a precipice of unbelievable timing and circumstance. Yet as it was in our more primitive past there remains so much we do not know. And so the eternal journey of waking continues.

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  • The Small Blue

    The Small Blue

    Macro photo of eastern tailed blue butterfly atop purple coneflower.
    The Small Blue — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/500

    Editor’s note: [July 29, 2017] This is not a small blue butterfly. It is an eastern tailed blue butterfly. It’s the small thin tail that earns this distinction. Shout-out to Dave Blinder who coincidentally posted a shot of an eastern tailed blue on his Instagram today thus unveiling my error. It’s always good to learn something new. I’m keeping the title as is—it’s still a blue butterfly small in size.

    A favorite bug friend came to feast upon a favorite flower. Macro serendipity multiplied. It’s been years since I’ve photographed a small blue butterfly. (Note: This is not a small blue) So you can imagine my happiness when I spied it doing its nectar thing atop a purple coneflower.

    Outside with my gear I got to work making photos. Pleased the dive bombing carpenter bee that was harassing the silver-spotted skipper earlier had left its post, the little small blue eastern tailed blue was able to feast unmolested. While small this little fella packed plenty of courage. He paid me no mind as it drank about the coneflower, dexterously darting its tongue amid the orange spires. With notable discipline the small blue eastern tailed blue worked clockwise about the coneflower stamen at a steady pace. The predictable clockwork fashion aided my shooting. I was able to get close and anticipate its maneuvering with ease.

    From here I worked the full midday sun into advantage. It afforded fast shutter speeds to aid handheld sharpness. More beneficial, it infused the exposure with strong contrast. This creates the deep blue-black behind the small blue and amplifies the dramatic streak of highlight running atop the edge of its wings. Lending a theater quality that might shine upon the actor during her soliloquy. The small blue eastern tailed blue muse was not lost on me.

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  • Liquid Lunch

    Liquid Lunch

    Macro photo of silver-spotted skipper feeding on purple coneflower nectar.
    Liquid Lunch — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1000

    I made the most of strong midday sun and an anxious butterfly battling for a sip. While I may have contributed to this silver-spotted skipper’s general unease, to be sure it was a dive bombing carpenter bee who proved the true villain. Selfish to the last this boring bee, not content with undermining wooden structures, also suffers from an insatiable need to dominate the local plant life as well. Unprovoked harassment aside, the skittish butterfly proved tenacious and drank surreptitiously upon a purple coneflower nectar in fits and starts.

    As the drama unfold I remained the steadfast dispassionate observer. Channeling my best, albeit deficient, Sir David Attenborough, I permitted nature’s battle unmolested. Instead of meddling in the travails of bugs I sat back with my 100mm macro lens and popped off exposures. I worked close and fast relying on handheld work to make my frames.

    Five minutes feel about 20 when you’re front and center with nature. Time dilation further magnifies when viewed in macro. Tunneling focus sets in as your whole world collapses down to lens physics making large of the small. It’s as if descending into an enlarged world of minutia brings with it a slower perception of time, reinforcing its relative nature. It is not without other lessons. The speed of the big world evaporates. The worry over text messages, tweet storms, and emails that need answering two minutes before receipt fades in full. It’s as if nature is trying to tell those who will see what does indeed matter.

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  • In the Flower of My Youth

    In the Flower of My Youth

    Black-eyed Susan macro photo with bokeh and shallow depth of field.
    In the Flower of My Youth — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/320

    The flower’s life moves with speed. Governed by uncontrollable forces from dust to dust it will rise, flourish, and whither. Rejoining to the earth bearing the wear of a life well lived. Brief as that life may be. At its height a culmination of beauty, strength, and vigor owns the spotlight magnifying the magnificence of life. Anchored by our frame of reference onlookers glimpse life for what it will be, is, or once was.

    Ruminating upon my own flower this reality has come into particular, and ofttimes uncomfortable focus. Viewed against a litany of health problems experienced over the past 13 months I face the age of 35 at month’s end. Throwing into high gear the acuteness of transition from is to what once was. My youth is fallen from me. Torn from my fingers without even a moment to slip. Like all transitions change augurs uncomfortable truths. Yet facing the truth brings the necessary knowledge for the next step—the next triumph. Honor what once was and embrace what wisdom awaits.

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  • See Me

    See Me

    Hosta blossom macro photograph in low key.
    See Me — 100mm | f/2.8 | ISO 400 | EXP 1/1000

    I’d be lying if I said the hosta plant was high on my list of favorite flowers before getting behind the lens. In fact, I’d be lying if I said I ever took much note of them at all. Here again photography proves a great teacher, turning attention to where before there was none. More precise, it was this time a year ago I first fixed focus on a hosta with my macro lens. In a frame not dissimilar to what I share today, a hosta bloom unfurls with a kindness into a delicate array of petals bathed in pastel tones. Layers peel away and lend depth to provide a softness and intimacy that passed heretofore unnoticed. Unnoticed at least to my once uncultivated eye.

    Hobbies are great. Hobbies that teach us, humble us, surprise us are even better. It’s one thing to find something you’re good at and helps while away the hours. It’s a whole other thing to find something that challenges you in unforeseen ways and breaks the well worn foundations which bind us to our ways.

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  • Picked by You

    Picked by You

    Black-eyed Susan macro photo with bokeh.
    Picked by You — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/400

    Oh beloved flower macro forever I hold dear. Time and again I’ve written about macro’s special place in my photographic journey. Were it not for my 100mm lens during 2012’s daily photo project I’m most positive I wouldn’t be the landscape photographer you know today. In truth, I wouldn’t be any kind of photographer today.

    Specific credit must go to flowers. A legacy of my home’s previous owners—my parents—is an array of perennials the liven up the property from April through October. Cutting my teeth in 2012, flowers, beautiful and without judgment offered an approachable muse for this shy shooter. Allowed to hone my posture, technique, and stillness I took to handheld macro shooting with some dexterity. Learning to depress the shutter between breathes as becoming an able marksman.

    From there I built upon composition principles. Applying the rule of thirds, maintaining balance and symmetry in my frames. It was during this nascent stage my eyes opened to the mechanics of bokeh and depth of field. Once oblivious I had no idea lenses produced areas of non-focus in such an appealing manner. Taken by this effect with earnest, I’ve been an advocate of open apertures for my entire body of non landscape work ever since. I even made a connection to my adolescence as a struggling painter. In all my works I tried to paint all aspects of the composition with perfect rigid detail. Had I eased and let non essential portions blur focus I would have brought more attention to the subjects that mattered. This is vital in portraiture or a still life that features a key subject—akin to the flower above. It’s remarkable to learn your lesson over a decade later from little expected places.

    To come full circle I made this photograph at my parents’ new house. Ensconced yet again by a rich array of perennials. Here it was a breed of Black-eyed Susans that called to my camera and me. You may recall I published one photograph already from the batch of photographs I made last Sunday. I was glad to dust off my 100mm macro lens to revisit from whence I came.

    Editor’s note: Shout-out to everyone on Instagram and Snapchat who came to my aid. You helped me decided between color and black and white for this photograph. This title is a hat-tip to you. More news: I published a column for Breaker Zine’s debut Beta Issue and my article is now online. If you enjoy reading about how I got started with photography be sure to check it out. Thanks!

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