Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: sunset

Sunset photography

Keep Swinging
Keep Swinging — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/5
Another exposure from last Saturday’s exemplar sunset. At the time of this shoot the Cleveland Indians and Chicago Cubs were midway through a World Series for the ages. Two legacy ball clubs met in the Fall Classic, each seeking to end championship droughts that run so deep the scorched earth of their past seems to predate the respective clubs storied existence. Cleveland last won it all in 1948, and for the Cubs you have to go all the way back to 1908—you know, before the planet was embroiled in its first world war. Despite both teams fielding plenty of championship caliber ball clubs over subsequent decades neither could ever seem to escape the bowels of their own history—the likes of which makes you take serious the voodoo of a cursed destiny. It’s a nasty business, goats be damned. For a fan of neither team, this made the 2016 matchup all the more special—one of these clubs was going to break the hex and send long entrenched narratives to the editor’s waste bin. I would be entertained without the agony/elation precipice these two passionate fanbases precariously stood upon. As a Yankees fan on firmer ground I was all in for the Cubs, though I would have been equally satisfied had Cleveland claimed the prize.
And so it went. Cleveland stormed out to a 3–1 series lead, firmly secure in their already established home field advantage. A lights out bullpen spearheaded by Terry Francona’s willingness to deploy the near unhittable Andrew Miller in the fireman role, backed a Herculean effort from Cy Young winner, Corey Kluber. Kluber, more throw back than modern day starter, was more than willing to pitch until his arm fell off this postseason. Shades of CC Sabathia down the stretch for the Brewers in 2008. My hat tips for you, sir. In the end, though, it was the Cubs’ time. Storming back to bring the Series to an elimination game seven, the two teams met for one last trial before fate and in the process produced an all time game seven experience. Despite an inspired Cleveland comeback, and Rajai Davis’ unlikely late game home run heroics, the Cubs were able to make history and set fire to a narrative that has shrouded a great franchise for far too long.
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November 5, 2016
Bayside Burn
Bayside Burn — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/8
Saturday night and the sky is all right. This weekend I got back on the photo grind and made off into the night with some kind of sunset. Mother Nature threw me a solid and brought out the big guns along the Surf City bayshore. Roughly a dozen sunset dwellers milling about Sunset Park were treated with one of those long burn smoldering skies that for the better part of a half an hour made the world stand still. Cellphones, mirrorless, and SLR cameras alike were put to good use documenting the light show; a frenzy of Instagram posts and rapid collection of likes ensued. For the few folks that rocked out sans camera, free-wheeling leg pumps on the area swing set made for idyllic, stress free viewing. For the few lovers among us the sky brought hearts to bear, setting to light the purity of their affections.
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November 1, 2016
Eye Up
Eye Up — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
I made this sunset photograph Monday, October, 3 out at my usual Cedar Run Dock Road stomping grounds. Conditions were solid and after several weeks of little to no shooting it was worthwhile just to be out there. I could nitpick the low-level clouds over the horizon that kept things from really exploding after the sun slipped below, but coming out a week of endless clouds and rain I was, and am still, in no position to complain.
Let’s get wonky
While I took time on Tuesday to run through my usual Lightroom to Photomatix and back to Lightroom workflow, I was too lazy to blog it up and fire it off for modest internet consumption. Taking a second look today, Wednesday, I started having second thoughts: I hemmed and hawed between two similar compositions with the lone difference being their perspective by way a horizon placement at the middle of the frame vs. placement of the horizon at the lower third—which is the photo shown above. It took a long hot shower and some dinner to move me to a decision.
As a general rule—and remember rules are made to be broken—I prefer a center mass horizon; this is especially true when working at wide angles. This minimizes the distortion caused by sharp angles diving toward the image’s vanishing point, which is exacerbated when you position the horizon in either the top or bottom third. In this case I deviated from standard operating procedure on account of ample cloud action to fill the upper two-thirds coupled with a less than stellar foreground of repetitive marsh grass. Were the horizon to be placed center frame the tide pool slides back to the middle ground and loses a touch of prominence. By taking a composition that favors sky real estate the tide pool is brought forward in the lower third—this has an added benefit insofar as the clouds are better reflected than its center horizon counterpart.
Did I make the right decision? Who knows? This line of thinking may be pedantic but there’s benefits in challenging your own workflows and assumptions. The right balance of purposeful critique measured against the pitfalls of perfectionism will help drive you forward in any of your life’s endeavors. Or it’ll just drive you nuts.
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October 5, 2016
Stacked
Stacked — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Post number 300 is here and on this website, and I am pleased it’s a good one. I’m not versed in the psychology of it all but there’s something about round numbers that satisfies the human brain. In the grand scheme of things it’s no different than picking some other arbitrary endpoint as a numerical goalpost for random celebration, but sticking with base 10 numbering has a certain mathematical ease to it—see also why we should use the metric system. Ahem.
With the 2016 Labor Day sky showing much promise I made for my usual Dock Road stomping ground hunting for a sunset. Instead of hitting the dock pilings or my go-to marsh spot, I made for the far east end. I made for Antoinetta’s. I’m no stranger to this composition though it’s one I tend to avail myself of more readily in the winter months. Not only is the sun angle more workable, setting more to the southwest, the parking lot is bustling with cars and eager patrons during the summer months. It’s just an easier time to stay out of people’s way. As an added advantage to shooting Antoinetta’s during fall and winter is a lesser need to worry about our beloved terrapins nesting in the cold winter months—the wildlife offseason, if you will.
Initially I had a slightly different angle of my composition dialed in. I was swung a bit more to the east (left in this photograph) with a more westward orientation of the frame itself. Not to mention I was at full standing height with the tripod so as to get a better angle on the water. While I liked what I saw I quickly remembered a photo I had seen on Facebook recently that brought the stacked stones—would be cairns—into the foreground. Said photo was from a longtime resident of Dock Road and all around good guy. Inspired I collapsed my tripod to its lowest height, swung back toward the north, tucked in close to the stacked stones, and made my photograph with a more southwestward orientation—bringing the stones firmly into the foreground. From there the sun handled the rest. Myself and a few other revelers were treated to a warm, orange sunset on a gorgeous late summer night. I even did a live stream from my Facebook if you’re interested.
So cheers to round numbers and here’s to the next 100.
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September 7, 2016
Still the Sirens Call
Still the Sirens Call — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Listen with care to this, now, and a god will arm your mind. Square in your ship’s path are Seirênês, crying beauty to bewitch men coasting by; woe to the innocent who hears that sound!
Lady Kirkê, in spite of her transformative machinations that rendered men into swine, offered warning to Odysseus when discussing possible routes for a treacherous return to Ithaca. For after passing the Sirens Odysseus would have to make a choice.
It is easy to bow at the feet of the enchanted. To fall prey to the allure of false confidence when faced with sights so beautiful and sounds so serene. A transcendent manifestation of the senses that can bring even the most wary among us to feed at the palm of a menacing stranger’s hand.
As I stood along the banks of Cedar Run—that’s the creek you see before you—mind, body, and soul spirited to sanctuary where the pressing needs of the worlds demands were nary a whisper in the dark. A 360 degree Shambhala sparked to light in a ring of fire as the sky ignited around me in a chorus of pink, yellow, purple, and orange. Entranced in the wake of a sunset the likes of which I’d seldom seen a subtle symphony of sounds joined in to call me to the sea. Seduced, thoughts no more tangible than the moment of creation melded as one, fused in the blank canvas of a mind that for a brief unhurried moment knew no bounds. At complete peace, exposed to the reality around me.
As the blaze burned down to ember I stepped back from my malaise, freed from an enchantment of which I was so wholly subsumed to remember fell deeds awake. The extratropical remnants of Hermine will be impacting the immediate Mid-Atlantic coast in the coming days, and we’d do well to heed Kirkê’s warning and steer clear of the Sirens’ call. We must remain vigilant and whole for someplace far away Penelope is always waiting.
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September 3, 2016
Transition
Transition — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
The calendar has flipped. September is here and with it meteorological fall. You see for meteorologists—of which I am not—the seasons align a bit different from the astronomical seasons of which we’re all quite familiar. Among mets winter runs December 1–February 28; spring occurs March 1–May 30; summer spans June 1—August 31; with fall happening September 1–November 30 on the calendar. So in some circles we’ve come to the fall season—if only technically. Yesterday on the Cedar Run Dock Road marsh evidence of the fall transition was all over the place—seabirds in lesser numbers, our sun setting much earlier, and perhaps most obvious to me, an increase in yellows and browns festooned over marshland that grows more dormant by the day.
For the landscape photographer the palette of early fall colors integrated in the marsh grass creates opportunity for visually appealing images full of depth and contrast. Things are even better when you have an ideally positioned cumulus cloud in the sky illuminated in rich pastels of the setting sun. Better still is when it aligns just so as to reflect pink and purple hues in a well positioned tide pool. It may not be a seven letter Scrabble worthy triple word score that has a ‘z’ in it, but hey, it wracks up a few points on an intangible scorecard somewhere.
While we’re on the topic of transition our weather along the coastal Mid-Atlantic is about to take a serious turn. The remnants of Hurricane Hermine are now moving through eastern North Carolina (as of 3:00 p.m. EDT on 9/2/2016) where it will eventually eject out over the relatively warm water of the Atlantic Ocean. From there forecast models continue to look worse and worse for my area—southern coastal New Jersey. As this storm slides northeast over water plenty warm enough to reignite storm growth allowing a transition back to a warm core system, Hermine may again return to hurricane status as it eyes up our vulnerable shoreline. My concern is growing by the hour, and for folks living on the water please stay vigilant and heed any and all warnings and emergency response team recommendations. I’m sure I’ll have more on this in the coming days. Suffice to say the marsh you see above, and have seen so many times in my photographs, will be under feet of water as Hermine pounds the region with days of potentially dangerous storm surge.
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September 2, 2016
Solemn Shores
Solemn Shores — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
One more photograph from August 25, 2016. After making my first frame I periscoped my tripod head right to left from a west to southwest orientation. My reasons were twofold: 1) the high level cirrus clouds were a more impressive pastel color toward the south, and 2) I wanted to get a different angle on the jetty rock situated in the foreground. It was a simple adjustment while largely staying in place that breathed new life into the composition. Plus it brought more of the compacted wet sand into the frame. Churned up sand festooned with countless random footprints does something fierce to my OCD. As it is I’m always drawn to a palette of untainted sand.
A now for something slightly different: I made a video! A brief, 87 second job from the same position and setup as this photograph. Obviously I need some practice—not to mention a noise canceling microphone to dampen the wind—but it’s a start. Someday time lapse and film will become a thing for me. Hopefully.
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August 27, 2016
Ship Bottom Retreat
Ship Bottom Retreat — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
I made my way over to Long Beach Island last night. It was a beautiful evening and considering the calendar’s rude notion that summer is quickly winding down it seemed worthwhile to capitalize on a resource that will soon be in short supply—warmth. Initially I defaulted to my usual LBI summer spot, Surf City Sunset Park. As I pulled into a parking space, however, I was met with an innumerable populace milling about the bay beach performing all manners of bay beach acts. Selfies, swimmies, chair sitters, gazebo dwellers, swingers (the park swing kind, people—let’s keep it on the up and up), walkers, basketballers and the like were also making the most of this resource known by some as a warm summer’s eve. Daunted, I fell back to Plan B.
Instinctively I knew where to retreat. Like Washington stealing his army out of Brooklyn and into Manhattan by boat under the cover of darkness and right under General Howe’s nose, I sought refuge at a place that has long provided sanctuary to the man called Molyneux. OK so this wasn’t like Washington’s daring retreat that saw no loss of life at all, but considering that happened in late August—August 29, 1776 to be exact—I figured I’d drop a real non sequitur into this post. You may thank me for your new fun fact that will aid you in your barstool trivia quest later. You see, jumping back to things that are actually relevant I spent three summers working for Ship Bottom Public Works. From 2003–2005 I spent May–September toiling away with friends and coworkers alike, doing our best to keep the public facilities of Ship Bottom free and clean. In doing so I staked daily responsibility to Ship Bottom Bay Beach. From 7:00 a.m.–9:00 a.m. sweeping away parking spots full of sand, pitchforking a night’s load of seaweed from the bathing beach, and the obligatory Dumping of the Trash with the Slacker was the order of the day. Keeping things in tip-top shape, our pride.
To the northern end of the bay beach sits a park. Ship Bottom Sunset Point to be precise. A small park filled with all the things that a park make. Things like benches, placards, flowers and shrubberies, memorial bricks, a gazebo and a bird hotel that puts my own residence to shame. Somehow this is all crammed into a space of about 5,000 square feet of sandy land if I had to guess. Yet when it is grown in full at peak season it affords all the coverage and privacy one could wish for. To its western edge sits a sandy beach running the course of the bay. It was along the jetty rock of said beach I made this photograph last night.
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August 26, 2016
Ray of Hope
Ray of Hope — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Much needed rain falls and here I sit content at my computer hammering out a post for a photograph I made last night. It was only yesterday happenstance and convenience brought me to Harvey Cedars Sunset Park after an art show at Long Beach Island Foundation of the Arts and Sciences. You see it was only two days ago I learned I had a photo in an art show, and it was only yesterday I learned said art show’s opening was set to take place only hours later. Considering my recovery attendance was hardly mandatory, but in my own head it would be welcome. Feeling well enough and eager to get out of the house I made my way.
The evening went on well enough. Finely dressed LBIF patrons donning pastel polos, flowing linens while strapped in sandals with casually done up hair and designer sunglasses milled about the main gallery. Seasoned veterans of art and culture made purposeful gazes and meaningful nods while doling out learned platitudes toward many of the pieces on display. Trapped in my own ignorance I was just there for the food—and was wearing a polo of my own. Before me a fine spread of items I can’t pronounce, ingredients I don’t understand, and elaborate skewers contorted into the most circuitous of shapes. I supposed that’s one way to cut down on the speed with which one eats? This offered quite a juxtaposition to the Coors Light bottles posted on the table’s right flank. Perhaps a purposeful dichotomy? Or is safer to assume one cannot get through an art show without a touch of irony?
After the show’s juror said some kind words toward a few of the real standout pieces, things really got serious as the evening made a welcomed pivot to a Pokémon GO gym takedown. My first such battle. With our Team Valor ranks full we made our stand and usurped power from the gym perviously held by Team Mystic. I didn’t know what the hell was going on as I fervently tapped the screen but we won, and maybe I’ve at least made it sound cool? OK, no? Moving on…
With the digital madness behind us I made my next pivot of the evening to the cloud structure and crepuscular rays fanning out across the marsh behind the Foundation. Clearly it was time to go for the camera. For the next 20 minutes or so I put the 35mm to work at LBIF. Golden hour was peaking but my muse turned toward sunset—my inescapable mistress. Knowing Harvey Cedars Sunset Park was but a few miles south I declared my intentions to my friends, my clan, my Team Valor, and made my egress and turned toward the park. Sunset was now the name of the game.
As I walked out to the jetty rock I set up shop with tripod and camera. The park was well attended—as it should be on a stellar summer evening—and many folks were set about the benches to take in the day’s last goodbye with friends and loved ones. Almost immediately I was joined by a mother-daughter combo making photos on their iPhones. They noted my gear and ostensible seriousness which always makes me a touch self-conscious as I feel it ups expectations of my photo output. Admittedly this is most likely self-conscious me overthinking an otherwise benign situation. Not long after I was joined by my Team Valor patriots and we went about our time spending the next half hour taking in a glorious Saturday evening in August. With my health in flux these past few months the calming scene and beaming sunset rays filled me with a wellspring of hope for the future.
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August 21, 2016