Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: motion blur

Stop Motion
Stop Motion — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/15
Back writing at The Union Market and I have a problem. Sure I have loads of problems but for the purposes of this exercise I am focusing on one. My photography is wholly uninspired. For four years now I have set adrift atop the inevitable plateau of your talent’s going no where. No gains, no challenges, no growth. Only the muscle memory motions of habit fueled machinations left manufacturing the same caliber of work over and over and over again. It’s a cycle of mediocrity. This plain, man. It’s endless. I need off.
Feeling certain something has to give what are my options? Well let’s work the problem with a good old fashion bulleted list. We’ll even pretend it’s whiteboard style. To address my photographic dead end I could:
- Quit—pack it in, drop this hobby and drift upon the breeze until something new falls in my lap; this is both decidedly passive and incredibly on brand.
- Maintain status quo—stick to my modus operandi and don’t change a damn thing. Hover where I’m at but continue to find the most joy writing for the photos I make; this, too, is an extremely Greg thing to do.
- Buy new gear—the capitalist equivalent to let’s have a child to fix our relationship; the short term gain to long term pain.
- Identify a challenge—settle on a new photographic skill or technique; considering I only make landscapes and flower macros with the occasional bug thrown in I have mountains to climb.
- Step out of my comfort zone—mix it up, meet new people; if you’re the smartest person in the room, find a new room. The surest path to improvement is to surround yourself with people better and more capable than you. Learn from others who’ve been in your shoes. Worn soles long shot, weary treads long tired from their time atop the plateau. While I was never a great musician by any stretch, I got pretty damn good playing guitar, bass, and even the damn banjo, when I was jamming on the regular with musical types way more gifted and trained than me. Their juice finds its way into your bones by osmosis.
- Give a talk—combine some strengths! I am a shy ass person, few will say otherwise. Yet paradoxically I love to talk, especially in front of a live audience, and I’m good at it! Bringing together two skills into one thematic packable could be the juice I need right now. In the interest of full disclosure, I had a perfect opportunity to do this but totally flaked out. Great job, Greg. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.
Even though I am not as yet clear on what I will or will not do, I am glad I wrote this down. It helps to get your thoughts out of your mind and onto paper. It creates some separation. Some breathing room to think it through with the problem feeling a little less up close and personal. Change perspective to be objective. Even if a thing looks good it may not be serving us. The question is whether the discomfort is strong enough to precipitate change.
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November 29, 2020
Safe Haven
Safe Haven — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 0.3 sec
Last night proved a stunning evening on the Cedar Run Dock Road salt marsh. Absolute idyllic mid-summer magic on the wetlands. Serene and sublime, a pristine atmosphere intent on peeling back layers of stress and worry. You would be hard pressed to put a price tag on this kind of therapy. Always look to nature when in times of great healing. She stands ever ready to render big magic into our lives. We must but take a moment to look and see.
I am blessed to have Dock Road. Long has it reigned as a safe haven. My go-to destination whenever I my heart, mind, and soul needs a respite. I have faithfully kept a COVID-19 journal daily since my first entry on 19 March 2020, which happened to be Day 4 of isolation. Last night marked Day 121 where I shared the following:
Tuesday, 14 July 2020
Day 121 — The Salt Marsh
Location: [redacted address] Manahawkin, NJ
Time: 9:48 p.m.
Visiting the Cedar Run Dock Road salt marsh has been an essential go-to for the entirety of my adult life. Whether for storm chasing, leisure cruising with friends, or a solemn place to cleanse the mind palate. The later has been especially true since I began my landscape photography journey back in 2012. This is my spot to take a mental reset and make beautiful photographs. It truly is a place of wonder mere miles from my home. Trust me, the salt marsh wetlands will lift any mood—especially so in summer.
Tonight proved stunning on the marsh. Absolute mid-summer perfection. Temperatures were mild, humidity at bay, with a slack breeze barely palpable. Pastel sunset colors danced about the lower third of the sky, and the waters of Cedar Run laid flat, creating a pristine mirrored reflection. In ambient aural beauty birds and bugs sounded in the distance, completing the tableau. This is how I will always remember the mid-Atlantic summers on the salt marsh of coastal New Jersey. Such an underrated—and under appreciated—ecosystem.
Get out there. Find yourself a safe haven. Pull your shot and streak the sky!
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July 15, 2020
Marsh Brush
Marsh Brush— 35mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/13
Take camera and lens. Set yourself a suitable focal length. (35mm demonstrated here.) Stand astride the salt marsh feet shoulder width apart. Pretend you’re the Colossus of Rhodes. Wait for sunset. As you depress the shutter, pan side-to-side in a smooth, steady motion—left to right is my go-to; sluggish shutter speeds work best. (I’m rolling with a lolling 1/13 of a second on my shutter in the photo above.)
Follow the steps outlined above and a blurred photo will zero and one its way onto your memory card. And if you’re somehow still reading you may be wondering why written steps to produce an out of focus photo is a thing—let alone a purposeful one. Enter the subjectivity of the three letter word that starts with A—art. I may be an n of one but I do love me some motion blur by design in photographs. If you have been following this blog over the years you may now recall seeing a few photographs cut from this cloth.
So what’s the rub? For me it is simple: executing intentional motion blur gets the viewer to the heart of an image. It cuts away the sharp focus, high resolution detail that can clutter and shroud the soul of a photograph. With forced motion blur we deconstruct down to basic movement, color, tone, and form. This allows the image to land on each viewer on a conscious level. Expectation breaks down and the photograph can exist as it is with no preconceived notions.
Of course even with sharp focus tabled for another day we still know exactly what we are viewing. The elements of the photo are clearly discerned as we look upon a salt marsh at sunset with clouds, tide pools, and grasses. Who needs sharp focus when a little bit of motion helps us see clear?
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November 11, 2019
Gradient
Gradient — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 0.5 sec
Take wintertime day glow, a lazy shutter, a bit of hand induced motion blur, and throw them in the pot. Add a fresh pour over of Lightroom and let steep. Add a dash of hope and your cauldron will yield a striking gradient mirrored across the great blue void. Cutting its center is sun streaked poise rendered only at day’s end. Now plate your study in color, movement, and form; landscape as emotion, a mirror world reflecting hope and fear.
So how did I make this shot? Quite simple, really. I capitalized on a day glow of intense blue to orange, calm Little Egg Harbor bay water, and my hands. With a smooth right to left motion parallel to the horizon I was able to introduce motion blur into an already minimalist tableau. I am drawn to the simplicity of this style of photo execution. It’s easy to get exciting over a high drama sunset with a slamming composition set off by first rate foreground, and don’t get me wrong, I love it, too. Yet there is something to being less. A hat tip to the understated—the introverts of the nature world. Perhaps it is my own predilection to introversion that brings me quite satisfaction in a far more subtle, nuanced world? Or maybe I am overindulging my self-importance behind the mask of understatement?
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January 24, 2019
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
Goodbye Sun
Goodbye Sun — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/15
Welcome back to Standard Time!—ugh. If you’ll allow me this moment for an airing of grievances. No fan am I of the cyclical cessation of Daylight Savings Time. Being a veteran on team Not A Morning Person I need to milk as much evening daylight as possible. Were it up to me we’d bask in perpetual latter day light on the forever Daylight Savings side of things—no more of the falling back/springing forward nonsense. I’ll concede the one day we get an extra hour of sleep is nice and all, but really it’s just a cheap marketing gimmick to help us try to feel better about ourselves; and let’s keep it real, when it’s ripped away from us each spring keyboard warriors take to Facebook and decry the personal affront felt by all. And while I’m sure many of you may find appeal in a world of no more time shifts I suspect you may find your allegiances hitched up to the Standard Time bandwagon. That’s OK but I’d like to ask just one thing: is the thought of 4:00 a.m. sunrises in summer really that appealing? No thank you, I will take my 8:00 p.m. summer sunsets year in and year out.
Quick photo talk time. I hit up Dock Road yesterday afternoon around 5:30—see the sun already sets early enough as it is!—and while it’s no doubt my go-to spot I wound up shooting from a vantage point I’ve yet to use in my half decade of photographing. Down at the far southeast end I posted up at the bulkhead of Stafford Municipal Boat Ramp and shot out over the bay with a southeast orientation. The light was great, and the clouds milling about the horizon were pretty great, too. Ditching the tripod and my usual bracketing I went handheld and executed my little motion blur technique—the one where I intentionally create a blurry, out of focus look on the exposure. Adding a bit of motion that brings a more painterly feel; it pairs nicely here with the otherwise minimalist look of the frame. That’s it for me, enjoy your next few months of 5:00 p.m. darkness.
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November 6, 2016
Play Your Hand
Play Your Hand — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/50
Your eyes do not deceive you. This is a blurry photograph. Its execution by design. Why? you may ask. While the question gets right to the heart of it, my answer makes up with simplicity what it lacks in profundity. Personal style. As simple as I like it. Every now and then when I am out shooting I will take the camera handheld, hold it out in front of my chest at a comfortable arm’s length, and rotate at the hips panning from left to right parallel to the horizon at an even pace. During the rotation I will depress the shutter to create an image that introduces motion blur, intentionally removing sharp focus from the exposure.
While it’s hard to articulate exactly why I like this atypical landscape I think it comes down to a few attributes. First is movement. Motion blur adds a rotational element giving the viewer a sensation of spin. Look up at the clouds. Do you see the parabolic swoop from left to right that plunges downward toward the horizon at the center of the photo? Good. Notice how its inverse arcs with a rainbow arch at the bottom of the frame? Perfect. If you drew a line vertically in the center of the photo it would appear as though this image is spinning like a top. Reflective of the earth itself spinning about its axis. For me it’s a photographic reminder that we’re all objects set constantly in motion.
Second is form. When you strip away a photograph from its sharply focused constituent parts you’re left with its raw elements. Its shape. Its essence. With the sharpness gone you don’t have to become bogged down in the details. Instead I invite you to take in the elements of the photograph on a more holistic level. What do you see in this photograph even though you can’t see it well? The clouds? The tide pool? Or is it a pond? Is that marsh? A wheat field? Or something else? How does your mind fill in the details? I suspect our answers may differ as our own preconceived notions will render this image to our own bias. Is that a house to the left on the horizon? A car? Maybe a boat? These questions, are they necessary or are they beside the point? Like this photograph the answer is purposefully blurred.
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October 19, 2016
Weather Moves
Weather Moves — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/4
Monday, July 25, 2016, saw severe thunderstorms batter much of the mid-Atlantic; the early morning hours featured the first round, a natural alarm clock potent in its own right, only to be outdone by the main event during the afternoon and evening hours. The widespread storm outbreak managed to hold together all the way to the New Jersey coast. The perfect storm of high CAPE values, substantial sheer, diurnal heating, and sky high dew points and temperatures fostered a caustic atmosphere for powerful storm development and continuation of the line for hundreds of miles.
Out on Cedar Run Dock Road, Weather NJ’s JC and I did our best to document the essence of the storm. While I didn’t pull down any good lightning shots—they continue to elude me—I did manage to make a few photographs that convey the anger and intensity of the sky and the subsequent winds that came with it. Even in the shot above, which was made a good 15 minutes before the severe warned storm hit, you get a sense for the ferocious nature of the ever changing cloud deck. Converging air masses were seemingly ripping the sky apart. The marsh betrays the wind intensity that would be otherwise invisible to a photograph. Even at a 1/4 second shutter speed, you can clearly see the foreground marsh grass folding like a tent. At this point I would guess winds were in the 30 MPH range. (With peak storm nearly doubling that speed.)
On a personal level the pressure of the moment becomes a lot to deal with. You know you’re under the gun. You know strong winds and high voltage is fast approaching. You know wind driven rain will soon be upon you rendering a camera effectively useless thanks to soaked lenses. Rolling thunder in the distance coupled with lightning strikes on the horizon gets the heart rate up, and it’s a real struggle against nature and your best instinct to remain calm and patient enough to make good shots. It’s a far cry from the relaxed pace of a predictable, slow moving sunset that’s for sure. Of course, it’s this adrenaline surge that’s a big part of the fun.
In the meantime I have one or two other photos to post from Monday, and JC went live on the Weather NJ Facebook page and produced the following video (approximately 36,000 views at the time of this posting!) documenting deteriorating conditions peak storm. Check it out.
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July 27, 2016