From One End To The Other — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Kicking it back to Sunday again. With light so good you know there’s gonna be at least a few photographs posted from what was a jaw-dropping 15 minute light show. With rain once again falling as the final moments of sun pulsed through a narrow opening in the cloud deck to the west an eastbound and down rainbow was all but inevitable. One quick turn to the oceanside and there it was—arcing majestically over Long Beach Island homes bathed in rich gold. With the pulse rate thumping I did the best I could to capture the rainbow while staying under just enough Sunset Park gazebo coverage to keep my lens dry. I’m not going to sit hacking away at letters on a wireless keyboard pretending this is the kind of composition I would have wanted, but considering the circumstances—notably falling rain and a ticking rainbow clock—this is the best I could muster. And so it goes, shot number two from Sunday. At least one or two more still to come.
Friday evening I hitched a ride with Jon Carr and we made our way to Great Bay Boulevard. The hope was twofold: 1) outside shot at a well timed break in the clouds for sunset ignition; and 2) with a segment of thunderstorms approaching from the west, lightning captures were on the table. While neither outcome panned out in the ideal the night wasn’t a total wash. Under the gun of days of stiff west by northwest winds, a blowout tide exposed a land bridge and thereby allowed me to shoot from a sand plain that’s far more often than not under the cover of brackish water. Advantage: Greg. This afforded me a rare angle on Great Bay Boulevard’s first bridge, and I did my best to exploit the opportunity.
Surely I wanted some high drama cloud to ground lightning from this vantage point, but considering we were about 20 miles south of the real action that simply wasn’t in the cards. Instead I tried to make the most of the cloud level flashes coupled with the low cloud deck that was bouncing the light pollution in a cool array of orange, pink, and purple hues. One of the reasons I added a 35mm lens to my bag was for some better lightning photography. More often than not the 14mm is just too wide, and unless you have the fortitude to let the lightning get right over your head the bolts are oft too far in the distance. My hope is the 35mm while bring in the right amount of intimacy while remaining wide enough to still capture a good piece of the sky.
Subtlety in Familiarity — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Fierce sky tonight, folks. Ominous. Brooding. Ever-changing. A fitting vibe on this the third anniversary of Superstorm Sandy. Context appropriate I made for an old standby location: Antoinetta’s Restaurant, down at the far east end of Cedar Run Dock Road in West Creek, NJ—an area that was beat up pretty bad from the storm. Now closed for the season, at least I think, this pointe will likely feature more regularly in my winter shooting rotation. So huzzah for that. For whatever reason I’ve had some great luck capturing dramatic skies from this spot. Perhaps none more dramatic than this. Or this.
Not content to simply recreate an oft used composition from this location, I used what nature gave me. In this case? Puddles and some undulating sand—it should be noted I’m obsessed with this kind of sand pattern. It’s a personal Shangri-La I’m always keeping a keen eye for. But we all know sand is fleeting so it’s all about being in the right place at the right time. Either way this combination made for an interesting and complex foreground and thus I set myself and my trip up further back than usual. The key takeaway is this: even though we as shooters return to the same location over and over again doesn’t mean our shots ever have to be the same. Between the sky, natural processes such as erosion, the change of seasons, and even a little rain and/or tidal flooding can make all the difference in rendering subtle changes to seemingly familiar surroundings. No two photographs are ever the same no matter where you stand.
Here on the Mullica — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Reclaimer of wood and photographer of things, Ben Wurst hosted friends for textbook late summer chilling and grilling this weekend. Naturally, festivities were preceded by an hour long sunset shoot at a location that was for the rest of us in attendance, a brand new spot! We found ourselves tucked away under the Garden State Parkway in Port Republic, NJ, set alongside the southern shore of the Mullica River. Offering both east and west exposures this is a versatile spot that will no doubt take its place in the rotation.
We were originally onsite so Ben could catch the full moonrise with his 400mm. Too bad it was obvious immediately that wasn’t going to happen; marine layer clouds were draped over the eastern horizon throwing a dripping wet blanket on those plans. The western side wasn’t much better with low level clouds riding the southerly flow. At this point I was milling about chatting with friends while Jackie remained steadfast to the photo plans, dutifully making shots. It was a good time, weather was perfect.
A few minutes before sundown, what you could see of a mostly cloud obscured sun disk was swallowed by the marine layer haze. With that it was looking more and more likely that a cloud out was inevitable. Driving the impatience further were some feisty appetites and a nice spread waiting back at the reclaimed home base. The natives were restless. Stalling twice for just three more minutes, I began to question whether my efforts were in vain. About 60 seconds from bailing I noticed an oh-so-subtle back build of pastel color brewing toward the east, over the Parkway span. Jackie! I said, we’re golden. And by golden I meant pink.
The best sunsets always straddle the fine line of oh yeah or oh no. It’s a razor’s edge of hope that there’s just enough gap underneath the clouds along the horizon to give the last photons of the day a chance to get an angle and deflect off the clouds. That’s just what happened Saturday: a near colorless sunset that ignited a good 5-10 minutes after actual sundown, only to smolder for another 15-20 minutes after that. On this day, our position in space and the physical laws of nature were on our side. Oh, and some luck too.
Update: unbeknownst to me, Ben captured me in the wild setting up for this shot with his 135mm. Good stuff, Ben. I didn’t even see it coming.
Litter Knows No Bounds — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/320
Travel anywhere in this world and you won’t have to look hard for the litter to find you. Not that I know this from experience, but so I’ve been told—I’m not really one for wanderlust. This is especially true for those of us living along the coast where our waterways turn into a de facto mass transit system for our discarded interests. Our refuse gets around easier than we do. I’m sure somewhere on the antarctic ice sheets emperor penguins are bee-bopping next to a transient piece of plastic. I just hope they’re not choking on it.
As I was traipsing about Dock Road this past Sunday, basking in some serious golden hour light pouring over the salt marsh, I began popping off some handheld shots that differ from my more typical tripod only wide angle compositions. The twisted guardrail you see barrel rolling across the frame has caught my eye for years, but I’ve never put it to any kind of compositional use. It wasn’t until I was kneeling to frame up this shot I noticed the trash. For a moment I thought about removing the water bottle from the frame in order to capture a more pristine “natural” shot, but then thought, nah, I’m gonna keep this piece of garbage in my shot. Maybe I had a temporary moment of journalistic integrity and wanted to capture the shot as it really was? Who knows?
In the interest of full disclosure I have never set the world on fire as some kind of environmentalist/conservationist, though my desire to protect our Spaceship Earth has grown stronger with age. I have to give credit to my good buddy Ben Wurst for setting a fine example for myself and the rest of our cohort to follow. He has certainly opened my eyes and caused me to think differently. Though I get a big fat ‘F’ for not picking up this here water bottle to bring it to its rightful place in the bottom of my recycle bin. I am ashamed.
Mid-frenzy and flanked by powerful light during Sunday morning’s sunrise shoot I broke rank, disengaged camera from tripod, and went handheld to make some more spontaneous frames of my immediate surroundings. Rich golden light was pouring in from the northeast, and I wanted more than anything to capture the vibrant strength of the sun’s first light. Stronger than usual, just as I was experiencing it.
The signs seen here sit right at my go-to Dock Road photo spot. They always draw my attention—especially the quirky homemade TURTLE X-ING sign. It gets serious points for character, and the turtles need our vigilance! Since I’m almost always at the spot for sunset, the change in light source direction illuminated the signs in a way I just don’t get to see on the regular. Enchanted, I kept creeping closer and closer and closer with my wide angle lens—bringing the scene tighter and tight together.
I’m pleased with this vertical orientation photograph. I’m particularly pleased with the signage pointing off to all the sunrise light drama happening to the northeast (left) side of the photograph.
Tonight I had solid clouds to work with but no color. Not exactly sure what to shoot I knelt down roadside, hands cupping my camera no more than an inch above the asphalt. The first test shot showed a promising composition. A second later I heard a car approaching, roughly a half a mile out.
Knowing the photograph I hoped to produce, car approaching, camera aimed blind in nothing more than a general direction, I depressed the shutter. A quick glance down at the viewfinder showed luck was on my side. Success.
Fun fact: This is post number 100 since the January launch. Woohoo!
Seldom have a rolled the dice with a minimally charged battery. As a photographer with a habit of shooting sans CF card, I figure the least I can do to bolster my workflow is ensure my battery is charged. Just not on this day.
The skies were filled with some ominous clouds this day and sunset shooting seemed a must. Instead of my go-to Dock Road spot, I took a bit of a longer drive to Great Bay Boulevard. The extra gas paid off. As I was shooting an incredible sunset casting deep blues and fierce purples my battery indicator began flashing. Red. Pause. Red. Pause. Breathe. Pause. Red. Pause.
It was then that I turned around. And yeah, this happened. With my battery on its last and my heart pounding, I spun my camera’s tripod mount, framed my shot, and exposed. I was able to rifle off the shots I need and come up with this picture. Other than a touch of sharpening, this color is straight out of camera—I’ve yet to see the natural light so pink. What an awesome day.
