Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: monochrome

  • Fractured

    Fractured

    Two inch thick ice sheets fold, collide, and crack creating fractal patterns floating atop Great Bay. Photographed at 35mm and processed in monochrome sepia.
    Fractured — 35mm | f/5.6 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/20

    Like the good keyboard warrior I have tried not to be, I came to the came to the computer tonight ready to pop off on our accelerating societal decline. Then I remembered I am a photographer, not a writer, and this photograph reflects the sad state of affairs far better than my forced words. 

    All day disqueit asking what can I do? I have little clue, but I am grown disgusted the cowards stance I’ve limply taken that’s long been thinly covered in silence. A passivity that can be seen as at best, aloof and neutral, but at worst complicit. What I will do is pledge further introspection into my own blindspots, weaknesses, limitations, and fear to speak out on the things I find righteously wrong. This self-improvement is solely in my control. I can also lend my photographs and my words to advocate for love, respect, and the personal dignity of all people and do my best to model that behavior. Lead from the front otherwise get out of the way.

    And now if you’ll excuse me I will be busy regrowing my spine. Thanks for reading, and go give somebody a hug and ask yourself, what can I do? Let’s lift each other up. Let’s be better together.

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  • The Line

    The Line

    35mm blue hour photograph with the bay in the foreground and a razor thin strip of Long Beach Island in the background. Panning and a slow shudder brings motion blur into the peaceful, minimalist image.
    The Line — 35mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 0.4 sec

    Hello website, I am back. Back to autumn. Back to September 25, 2021. To the same Cedar Run Dock Road evening where I made another motion blur pan shot photograph, Peace Where We Can. In a trick of light, The Line is cast in the moody blue tones of the eponymous blue hour. Meanwhile Peace Where We Can smolders in the waning embers of sunset. Now you might be saying so what? Well so what is that I photographed The Line first. Depending on the direction you look the last light of day refracts different. More so it changes by the moment. These fluid transformations require the greatest focus of observation. Move your eyes across the whole ring of the horizon less you never see what colors behind you.

    Let’s talk nuts and bolts. This is a stripped down, minimalist image. It’s monochrome color scheme and open space allows the mind to range free. Your mind wants to build a boat to paddle out over to the far horizon. A razor’s edge at the end of the world. Is it a barrier? A gateway? A threshold? Is it the last refuge or the first place of welcome? Or maybe it’s just a place where people eat french fries? Well, it’s sort of all of that. It’s Long Beach Island. The line at the edge of my world since 1993. A place I’ve long looked out upon but never quite understood. Somehow always feeling a touch too far out to sea. My very own Tol Eressëa.

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  • Walled Off

    Walled Off

    35mm sepia photograph of an old wooden structure marked by leading lines, knotted wood, and a rusted iron locking loop.
    Walled Off — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/160

    And now for something completely different. I made my way to Batsto Village on Sunday. Autumn peak is still a ways out, but the short jaunt made for a solid photowalk regardless. Temperatures were warm with mostly masked park goers aplenty. It was one of those dress for all seasons kind of days. Toasty in the sun, cool in the shade. As my friends played about with their tiny humans, I meandered listlessly about the old iron works village. Some noticeable changes since my photowalk in 2014, including the loss of some large maple trees. Such is the passage of time.

    I spent ten minutes with my camera making photos of a building I once described as a weird barn-esque pseudo covered bridge type building sided in evenly spaced, repetitive wood slats. The leading lines speak to me. There is an old, weathered door with a rusted iron loop which once made part of a locking mechanism. Above is the photograph, treated in sepia to lend visual to the structure’s age. I’m not certain what to call this kind of photography? Street? Architectural? Nonsense? I suspect this is one of those photos I enjoy but doesn’t land well with the masses. But that’s OK!

    Music and the world lost an icon and virtuoso today. Rest easy, Edward Lodewijk Van Halen. The stardust of the riff master has returned to the universe.

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  • Working Class Hero

    Working Class Hero

    100mm low key macro photo of a single honey bee pollinating purple coneflower pistils. A strong single light source creates stark contrast of highlights and shadows. A deep blue monochrome treatment drives a dark, serious mood.
    Working Class Hero — 100mm | f/4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1250

    Dutiful honey bee plying her trade. Drinking her nectar and loading her pollen basket, she works with intent. With energy and purpose she minds her craft. Even alone the hive is on the mind. Her community needs her; needs her singular focus to feed and to provide. To sustain the group. Bounding atop pistils by day, she works the land spending hours at the harvest. Undaunted she holds fast to her task. Mindfulness dams distraction. Even the focused lens of the observer matter little to our indefatigable worker bee. She need not pay us any mind—she strives for the hive.

    As ever, thank you, John Lennon, for enriching our lives with joy. Thanks for your classic song connecting to this lyrically inspired photo. A working class hero is something to be(e).

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  • Courage to Grow

    Courage to Grow

    100mm macro photograph of one purple coneflower with its blossom forming a crown. Processed in a low key blue hued monochrome.
    Courage to Grow — 100mm | f/3.5 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/250

    Challenges move as a summer wind. Storm clouds smoke to the horizon. Roiling cloud tops bubble and push to the sky, a fierce beacon girded in unyielding white. It makes a stark contrast to the gray underbelly paved in turmoil beneath. An archetype of the inevitable, the storm will rise. The gust front heralds its great coming. A flush of wind and the onslaught gale meets to the crack of thunder, our souls left scoured in the windswept rain. Life and land buckles, the seas pick up, and our world holds fast.

    And then, as if in an instant, the power yields. The wind sits, the clouds break, and the late day sun works through, driving a shaft of light to chase off the din. Passed is the storm; subdued fear left in its wake. The world wakes up—resilient and renewed. Bathed in rich light all is brighter, thoughts are clearer with purpose resolving in sharp contrast. Our spirit tempered and charged. Battered by the storm and buttressed by a resolve before unknown, left purified in the waters of renewal we find the courage to grow.

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  • Roll It Over

    Roll It Over

    Sepia landscape photo of storm clouds over the bay.
    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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  • Weather or Not

    Weather or Not

    Dramatic cloud photo as snow squall storm clouds streak across the marsh.
    Weather or Not — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 400 | EXP 1/60

    Strange weather has brought itself to New Jersey. In typical Mid-Atlantic March fashion we’ve seen all four seasons this month and we’ve yet to cross the Ides of March. Yesterday we saw temps approach 70 while today much of the state was greeted with slippery roads and heavy wet snowfall. Once this morning’s system moved through some snow squalls began to fire across the region—even with reports of thunders snow in Pennsylvania! You may be looking at the photograph above thinking huh, that sure looks like a thunderstorm and you wouldn’t be far off base. Snow squalls, unlike most other types of winter events, are caused from instability in the atmosphere—the same kind of dynamics that drive thunderstorms in spring and summer—unstable air with plenty of room for atmospheric lifting and you’ve got the same kind of setup, only here you’re greeted with a brief period of heavy snow.

    In between about four rounds of intense snowfall over a 60 minute span, I was able to hop out of the car and make some photographs of what was a full stop dynamic sky. It’s no exaggeration to say every five minutes rendered an entirely different palette of clouds, color, and light. It was something to behold, albeit intense and cold. Considering the speed with which I needed to move around the old marina, I ditched the tripod and went exclusively handheld today. You’ll note the ISO 400 with this photograph as I needed to speed up my shutter to get to an exposure of 1/60 so as not to risk blurring the photograph with unsteady hands. I switched between my phone when the snow was heaviest, and my main camera when the precipitation stopped and the light came out to play. I’ll be posting a few more shots from this evening over the next few days, but I figured it best to get things started with the heavy hitter from a dramatic light perspective.

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  • First Off

    First Off

    Sepia landscape photo of Cedar Run Dock Road salt marsh.
    First Off — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    First off I hope everyone enjoyed a relaxing, joyful holiday season, and that you’re primed and pumped for a memorable 2017. Say it with me now two thousand seventeen! Seriously, where does the time go? My brain is still somewhere in April 2007. But such is the way of things. Before we kick things off in this new year please take a look at my 2016 year in review—featuring my 12 personal favorite photographs from 2016—it’s always my favorite post of the year.

    Getting back to the present I realized it was the twelfth of January and I’d yet to make a photograph in the new year. In fact, I had yet to make a new photograph since December 21, 2016. A three week drought? Yikes. Anyway, I made it to Dock Road today just in time for sunset. Instead of going for the usual color approach, I opted for a sepia treatment similar to a photograph I produced back in November. I’m a fan of this monochrome hue and found it appropriate to leverage here. Nothing too crazy, nothing too fancy—just a means to get 2017’s photostream off to a sound start. Now onto number two. Cheers.

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  • Antoinette Only

    Antoinette Only

    Sepia landscape photo of phragmites and clouds at Antoinetta's Waterfront Restaurant.
    Antoinette Only — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/4

    Mayhaps, Marie, had the guillotine not intervened and the mechanics of time proved malleable, you may have found sanctuary here. Alas revolutions come and turbulent throngs shall be paid their pound of flesh just as Charon, too, must be paid. Never forget the will of the people, Marie, for they will not forget you.

    I’m mixing up a familiar motif going with sepia post processing treatment on this photograph. I could have went with my usual color approach but there’s something about the aged yellow monochromatic hue that tells a different kind of story here. I have photographed Antoinetta’s Waterfront Restaurant numerous times over the years, and I’ve always given it the full color treatment. Having gone down that road before I’m glad my gut wrenched me to sepia. Perhaps it was the eponymous Antoinette Only sign that turned my mind down a historical path? Scratching my subconscious to make this photograph look weathered and worn. Perhaps it’s a reflection of the cold unwelcome I felt shooting mere feet from a sign imploring me to keep out? You are not welcome here, sir. They’re an alienating thing, signs. A declaration of boundaries that while oftimes explicit ironically leave much open for interpretation—especially for the less secure among us. Who stakes claim to place? Who will come to usurp it?

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