It is in evening blue light when the day’s last comings glow, ebbing slow each night as the final light of day goes. It is a soft kiss, a gentle embrace as day shares love with her partner night. For a few moments the two poles dance together, igniting passion in the pastel embers of yearning. It is devotion writ large, a passion play painting tenderness on nature’s most dramatic stage. Ensconced our lovers intwine but twice each day, and they are here to teach us whenever we choose to learn.
Out of Exile — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
A weary traveller, chastened and humbled returning from isolation made his way out of exile to this sacred place of restoration and life. To the marsh he’d seen so many times before. The same marsh he’s photographed for more than eight years with dutiful care. To this holy marsh where centeredness and peace comes easy. It is at this place he bears witness to its cyclical grace of death and rebirth marked by its annual rise and fall. The comings and goings of its grasses, the arrival and departure of migratory sea birds, the summer flourish of bugs to feed the ecosystem, and all manner of life in between. It is the marsh of his youth that will god willing serve as the marsh of his golden years. It is the marsh to which he will always return when called out of exile.
Last Light of Eve — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Made back on Christmas Eve, I have been sitting on this photograph for a week now. No real reason other than way too much life happening right now, and far too little of it the good kind. Nevertheless the capstone holiday for many children the world over met well with a fine burn over southern Ocean County. Doubtless the North Pole swarmed and pulsed with its final pre-flight check as the sun kissed its goodbyes.
Tonight begins another round of goodbyes. Goodbye to both a year and a decade. It is time for the ’20s whether ready or not. No choice but to embrace what is and what is about to be. My wish for the new year is more love, hope, patience, and tolerance for us all. Less reacting and more understanding. Less judgement and more forgiveness. Less emptiness and more fulfillment. Appreciate all you have—for having that which matters most is always a temporary condition. So love full and love complete, and know yours is a life well lived.
Thanks again, everyone. Happy New Year to you and yours. I wish continued blessings to those whose cups are full, yet I will not miss the chance to recognize, love, and honor those whom struggle with loss and loneliness during this time. I see you.
Wait for It — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Yesterday afternoon was a treat. A late stage pulsing sunset served a tonic for the soul. An overcast deck held sway even as the sun dropped below the horizon leaving grays and blues dominating. Yet I waited. There was enough breaks to the cloud and enough experience chasing sunsets to know I ought lend time to the sky. Five minutes passed and sure enough a touch of pink begin building to my south-southwest. Over the next five minutes a panoply of pastel color flourished. The game was afoot.
Unfortunately, a fellow sunset reveler about a quarter mile away threw in the towel too early. They packed up early and missed the show, reminding me too often people bail on the sunset too soon. So one quick tip I’m more than happy to share: Wait at least 10 minutes after the sunsets before punching out. (20 minutes if you have time to spare.) This simple change will take your sunset photo making to the next level. Far more often the best color comes 5-10 minutes after sundown. Remember this and please apply accordingly. Now get out there and wait for it.
Short Days — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
The sun sets early this time of year. Snuffing out daylight early and often. Long nights leave us vexed, corrupting our internal sense of time. How is it only 6:00 p.m.? It feels more like midnight. Premature exhaustion settles in by 8:00 p.m. and the call to hibernate is real. So is the struggle. When midnight hits so does the second wind and the time destroying whims of winter come full circle. Morning alarm goes off and we rejoin the dark waltz again.
Yet winter and its stunted days are not without benefit. Here’s a quick hit list of its boon:
Holidays! Halloween through New Year’s marks a run of festivities to cover all manner of secular and religious celebration. Hell, we’re even afforded our chance at the annual airing of grievances.
Time off! Dating back to our childhood we associate this season with winter break and snow days. Even into adulthood we appreciate the breaks we earn.
Snow! Many hate it, I love it. For my money it’s the only weather that makes living in cold climes worthwhile. Let’s all agree to slow down a bit more and stay safe when we have to drive upon it.
Video games! In honor of capitalism, entertainment companies drop all manner of first rate AAA titles upon button starved consumers. This pairs nicely with long nights and time off. As a lifelong Nintendo fanboy there’s nothing like questing through Hyrule on a long cold night.
Movies! Whether it was the early 2000s dropping The Lord of the Rings in three successive Decembers or the Star Wars drops of the late 2010s, winter blockbusters are a cozy way to spend an evening.
Sunsets! Sure they happen early, but nothing compares to cold fuel winter sunsets. It’s when the vivid pastels paint the sky, and the ever elusive purple comes to play.
Fresh starts! New Year’s gives us a chance to begin again. Wipe the slate clean and make new things happen.
What are some ways you make the most of long nights delivered at the hands of short days?
I am overfond of this oxbow feature of Cedar Run. It is a peaceful turn in the gentle meandering of a low key run of brackish water in the Cedar Run Dock Road marsh. It sets behind my usual sunset orientation from my most used spot to make photographs. Under a sky spanning sunset, even this northwest orientation colors up full and sets the oxbow aglow.
So it was on November 15. Minutes before I captured this smoldering sky fire to the west, I set tripod and lens about a pastel swoon. Pinks and yellows casting a near transparent gossamer glow upon the sky and the land. It is a boon from beyond when your surroundings offer up the chance to make multiple photographs, in multiple directions, with manifold compositions. It is an embarrassment of riches, and it makes for A Good Day. In this photography is like fishing: Skill, preparation, experience all count, yet it is right place, right time which matters most.
Big week in the 609 for sunset. With no fewer than three Good Ones™, Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter have burned with content. Sky fires everywhere Buzz and Woody meme dot gif. Of course I missed out on the first two setting my insides aflame searing FOMO blisters with impunity. Life is hardly a burner when you’re but a passive observer.
Yet Friday was my day, except it almost wasn’t. All day skies were light overcast, which suggested an it can go either way outcome. SunsetWX, after a red hot week, was lukewarm over New Jersey fueling the wavering. I continued to work. I continued to monitor.
Four o’clock came and so too decision time. Clouds had thickened and the 4:41 scheduled sunset seemed lost. Well, 4:30 hot power vinyasa it is. It was 4:15 and I was driving to yoga class. Still it gnawed at me this choice was the wrong one. 4:25 and I am exiting onto Route 9 north. I descry the slightest break in the clouds a razor’s edge above the westward horizon. 4:27 at the traffic light I sit—30 seconds from yoga, six minutes from home, and 14 minutes from sunset.
I drive toward home to change into warmer clothes and grab my tripod and camera. 4:35 I am back on the road. 4:41 is nigh and I am 12 minutes from my Dock Road spot. A little math and we sit with a 4:47 ETA for a 4:41 sunset. It was a this point I knew I made a mistake. I even tweeted as much. The clouds seemed thicker than ever and hot power vinyasa already flowing. I would lose out on sunset and exercise. On I drove to Cedar Run Dock Road catching 5 red lights along the way—also known as every single one.
4:43 I turn onto Dock Road heading southeast. In my rear view I notice some light red and pinks beginning to spread along the westward horizon. As I continue to drive it continues to grow. By the time I hit my spot at 4:47 near on half the sky was on fire. The game was afoot. I had chosen poorly in thinking I had chosen poorly.
90% of photography is being there, and this timeline of unextraordinary events encapsulates said maxim well. Nature’s brush was putting in all kinds of work, as it has all week, and I had but to stand there pressing button. A photographers’ work made easy with a red sky alight.
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?
Great Bay Boulevard has sat out of the rotation for far too long. This photograph, made in late September, was my first shot made at Seven Bridges Road (GBB’s other name) since February. Great Bay Boulevard is like Cedar Run Dock Road with a multiplier. It is southern New Jersey marsh life writ large. The marsh extends for miles in all directions, at times leaving the observer with a solemn feeling of stark isolation. The road doglegs to the southwest running out the miles over several small wooden bridges. Alternating one way traffic is the order of the day in spots, minded by lonesome traffic light sentinels, adding to the area’s sense of place. It is splendid.
Specific to the photograph above I went about my business a bit different than usual. Using my 14mm wide angle lens I executed a shallow depth of field exposure, sitting wide open at f/2.8. This is a tactic I typically reserve for my 35mm and 100mm lenses. With wide angle work I lock into hyperfocal distance to capture sharpness throughout the entire depth of the image. This is born out in the hundreds of the wide angle sunset photographs I have published.
The remnant piece of wood, worn and eroded, marking the foreground, caught my eye. Its coloration, weathering, and grain draws the eye, and with some decent sunset light I wanted to make it the focus of the photograph. So with an open aperture I got down low, keeping the camera no higher than three inches of the ground, and worked some frames. Originally I deployed a western exposure, straight out into the sunset. Then I spied the telephone pole off to the south set over my left shoulder. I split the difference with a south-western exposure brining the pole into the frame. The shallow depth of field and off focus casting the pole in diffuse symbolism.
Photographs capture scenes to convey narrative in a visual medium. The story can be simple and straightforward, or it can mask in layers to tell multifaceted stories. It allows the viewer to imprint their own stories shaded by beliefs and experiences to connect in a personal way. This is the beauty of photographic storytelling.
Here the telephone pole will appear to some as a cross looking down upon a weathered wooden relic. An aged grained wood with a prominent knotted eye looking deep into the viewer under the auspices of Golgotha. There will be an obvious religious connection for many while others will absorb this motif in a different way. Both are correct and neither wrong. Here is the magic of imagery.
