Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: phragmites

  • Sand to Snow

    Sand to Snow

    Sunset photo over frozen Barnegat Bay in Harvey Cedars, NJ.
    Sand to Snow — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/15

    Harvey Cedars locked in ice. A beach paradise locked and bound in frozen bonds of wind driven snow, ice and unstoppable cold. The arctic has found its way south and wrought with it a landscape better tuned to penguins.

    Trudging through Harvey Cedars Sunset Park I felt myself alternating discomfort and awe. Foremost was the wonderment. I strode incredulous among magnificent shapes carved by the master hand of wind driven snow. Three to six foot mounds of stratified snow dunes in all directions. Features that would look more at home marking the desert sands. The juxtaposition made more striking contrasted against wide swaths of grass and stone blown free of any trace of snow. This is mind-boggling considering the foot plus that dropped up and down the New Jersey coast less than 24 hours ago. As the snow was busying itself building mesmerizing drifts it was leaving whole swathes of park untouched. Never before have my eyes seen its equal.

    Enhancing the displaced winter landscape was the transformation of Barnegat Bay. This familiar waterway left frozen solid and topped with reticulated patterns stretching to the horizon. Any vestige of the summer paradise fell away as it bent the knee before the reign of ice.

    Through my wonder a crippling west wind carrying biting cold air tested my limits. Setting up to shoot headfirst into 20 mph sustained winds posed a threat to exposed skin. Despite my layers and heavy dress I struggled for comfort. In a battle of diminishing returns against a relentless enemy I made a few dozen exposures over span of 45 minutes. I will share one or two more photographs in the coming days. In the meantime I am off to thaw a replay the magic frozen before me.

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  • Cold Movement

    Cold Movement

    Salt marsh photo of wind blown phragmites at blue hour.
    Cold Movement — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/100

    I’ve been listening to Walter Isaacson’s, Leonardo Da Vinci, on Audible. While I haven’t enjoyed it as much as his biographies on Steve Jobs, Albert Einstein, and Benjamin Franklin, I find I am connect more though Walter’s latest work. Being something of an interdisciplinary and a procrastinator there is a resonance with the famous Florentine. While at only a fraction of a percent on Leonardo’s scale I, too, have a wide array of interests powered by curiosity. A Jack-of-all-trades I want to know a little something about as many things as possible. Of course Leonardo took this to a mind-boggling level; a Leonardo-of-all-trades and the master of all. He stands as the pinnacle Renaissance Man, even if he left most of his work unfinished or unpublished. Of course, he was more interested in pursing art, mathematics, engineering, optics, fluid dynamics, and stage craft to acquire knowledge for its own sake. He was less concerned with finishing things and reaping external rewards that motivate many of us.

    Much of Isaacson’s biography covers Leonardo’s work as a painter. While I was a mediocre and frustrated painter at best who never enjoyed the practice, these chapters have sparked connection to my photography. Isaacson tells us Leonardo was a master of movement in his works. He instructs us that a work should not capture a moment as frozen and rigid. Instead it is necessary to convey what was happening one moment ago in the past transitioning to what will happen in the next moment in the future. This fundamental cornerstone built an emotional and narrative quality in Leonardo’s work. He wrote about its importance many times across the decades in his famous notebooks.

    Taking this maxim from the preeminent Renaissance master has me thinking I would do well to incorporate movement into my own work. I want to create photography that flows from one moment into the next. Better this than a stale image, emotionless and locked in time. In a weird way, armed with Leonardo’s thoughts on the matter, I can picture him judging my work with cutting critique. In this way I want to be sure I it will pass muster.

    Last night on the marsh I had my first chance at capturing movement under the auspices of Maestro. The first arctic air mass of the year arrived in New Jersey yesterday. With it a biting north west wind to serve as wake up call that winter is coming. The sky was cast with a deep orange-purple glow that only shows when a serious winter trough swings through. Set to this dreamy backdrop, invasive phragmites bent low before the stiff breeze; bowing in unified motion under the power of wind. Here was my chance at movement. Using my 35mm lens, soft focus, and a hint of blur the viewer can imagine where the phragmites were a glimpse prior. Now compare that with where they will be in the next eye blink. The movement brings action and reality to an otherwise still looking scene. This better conveys the cold, windy, unsettled reality on the marsh last night. This stands in narrative opposition to what could otherwise look like a placid blue hour on the marsh.

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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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  • I, Phragmites

    I, Phragmites

    Shallow depth of field sunset photograph of phragmites along Barnegat Bay
    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?

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  • Fired and Frozen

    Fired and Frozen

    Vertical orientation photograph of an explosive sunset over frozen marsh and phragmites
    Fired and Frozen — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    I avoid vertical orientation photography, and I’m doing myself a disservice. Despite its obvious place and application in landscape photography I remain reluctant to exploit it. Unpacking my reasoning and there’s a few things at play here: 1) I dropped my camera pretty early on and its gyroscope—and thereby level—is useless, rendering level horizons a bit harder to dial in when the camera is upright; 2) my website homepage renders all images in a traditional 3:2 crop ratio (standard crop you’d get from any 35mm film camera); 3) when viewing a single post page—such as this one—from a desktop the left-justification of the photo is a little bit wonky; and 4) I’m just not comfortable making them. To confuse things further, I prefer to shoot vertically from my mobile device as opposed to landscape. Without contradictions, I am not. It was actually a photograph I shared to Instagram last night that led me to go back and process my DSLR version of Sunday night’s sunset this evening.

    Yet as I walk through the reasons cited above one thing becomes immediately clear—only one of those reasons has anything to do with photography. While all four in some degree or another shed light on the pitfalls of perfectionism, two of those reasons are remnants of my past life as a web designer. To be fair it’s not entirely a past life as I do have this place to still dabble in the front end web world, if only a little. In the immediate future, however? I will make it a point to shoot vertical more often. Not only is it the lone path to improvement, it’s a key piece to the landscape photographers repertoire. I can no longer choose to sit out. In the meantime my buddy Ben excels at the technique and took a mean shot this morning. That coupled with my Instagram shot sort of set this line of thinking in motion. He also shows off several exemplar vertical images on his 2015 best of post.

    In order to scratch the perfectionist itch maybe I’ll carve out some time to address my web layout issues with vertical photos. Maybe.

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  • On Second Thought

    Square format landscape photograph of phragmites and Barnegat Bay at blue hour
    On Second Thought — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 0.6 sec

    Sometimes your shoot won’t go exactly as planned. This is OK. This afternoon my buddy Jon and I were hoping for some sunset drama. As it does the big time boom or bust sunsets ride a razor’s edge of yay or nay. Today it missed. It happens.

    Walking back to the car and at peace with said miss, my eyes quickly looked north to find sweeping blue clouds. Then downward to the illuminated houses out on the horizon; finally setting on the phragmites up in the foreground. The blue hour tones were soothing and the contour line of the jetty rock perfectly aligned with the left to right swoop up in the clouds. With a few clicks of the tripod this entire process was over and done with within a span of 20 seconds. Sometimes shots happen fast. At home in post processing I opted on the square format display ratio, deciding it tightened the overall composition.

    In their own way I hold a fondness for shoots like tonight. It’s a good test for the eye to come up with something else when your plan falls through. It’s a useful exercise in staying open to new possibilities, and as an added benefit the time crunch of fading light gets you to work fast relying on instinct.

  • Set Among Them

    Wide angle landscape photograph of phragmites and salt marsh at sunset
    Set Among Them — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/20

    Yesterday I posted what you could call the natural partner to today’s photograph—with all the same ingredients—a handheld shot of phragmites just after sunset. While the clouds front and center in yesterday’s offering were impressive, I think I prefer today’s rendition from an overall shot of the day standpoint. In case anyone is totally confused, today is Sunday and both photographs I’ve mentioned here were made on Friday afternoon, 6 November. More often than not I like to go with one posted photograph per session, but sometimes you come away with a few keepers to share.

    If I had to express what it is I like most about this photograph it would tie back to color, perspective, and movement. I’d also add a elevated sense of preference creeps in because of its departure from my standard workflow, as I discussed yesterday. Here again was another handheld shot, but also from a perspective I don’t regularly utilize. I was up close and personal with the phragmites, sitting among them with my lens no more than 3 feet from the ground and no more than a foot behind the plants at an angle of roughly 15 degrees above the horizon (I’m spitballing here). This coupled with a lazy enough shutter of 1/20 of a second and just enough wind able to create the areas of motion blur you see among the stalks, adding to the sense of place. Close your eyes and you just may hear the breeze.

  • The Other Side of Things

    Wide angle landscape photograph of pastel clouds over phragmites and marsh at sunset
    The Other Side of Things — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/30

    I went old school yesterday—making single bracket handheld exposures along Dock Road just around sunset. Gasp! I took a step back from the usual Tripod Only, Brackets Only, Sunset Only wide angle workflow to which I fall prey. Creature of habit and all. But sometimes you have got to break away.

    Yesterday afternoon offered the chance. Sunset was shaping up to be so-so at best.  So tasked with figuring out how best to salvage to shoot, I took a gander behind me to the northeast exposure and noted some detailed cloud shapes behind me. Photogenic clouds, even. Thinking these may color up when the sun slipped down, I disconnected camera body from tripod and walked across the street. And from there, directly opposite to my initial position, it went. A few purposeful exposures working in the invasive—albeit visually pleasing in the right light—phragmites as a foreground element. The shutter was lazy enough at 1/30 a second to produce a hint of movement in the pesky plants. I’ve got another shot from last night that I will post next that maximizes the movement and lines of the much maligned phragmites.

    The lesson? Always keep your head on a swivel. No need to jump right into the act of shooting. Take the time to scan your environment, observing the landscape from different angles. Break the mode and let go of the status quo.