Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: sunset

Sunset photography

  • The Home Fire Still Burns

    The Home Fire Still Burns

    Sunset photograph of dramatic clouds painted in fiery pastels left behind after storms rolled through Long Beach Island.
    The Home Fire Still Burns — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/5

    Sunday began what is now day four in a stretch featuring potent storms, dramatic clouds, and fiery sunsets. While I’ve been tied down and largely unable to shoot, it’s been impossible to miss what has to be the best consecutive stretch of sky goodness in recent memory. New Jersey based social media accounts have been set afire with countless jaw-dropping photographs for the better part of a week. Thanks to ubiquitous smartphone adoption the degree of documentation has sailed far beyond unprecedented levels. Everyone is a photographer now, and I think it’s is great. Scrolling through my Instagram feed this week has been a total treat.

    Above is my small contribution for the week. This photograph was made at Surf City Sunset Park on Sunday evening. Strong to severe storms were powering across the mid-Atlantic, bringing strong winds and heavy rainfall. Unfortunately the line fizzled just as it made its way to the coast. While a proper shelf cloud never materialized over Barnegat Bay, it was becoming readily apparent the clearing would time up perfectly with sunset. My friends and I bailed from our Barnegat Light thunderstorm position and made our way south into Surf City. From there it all came together. To the east was a properly majestic double rainbow backlit by a stunning array of pink storm clouds. To the west, a potent sunset stretched across the sky. So powerful was the light differential from sun to storm clouds that auto white balance was rendered effectively useless; leaving RAW files cast in a strong purple hue if left untouched. When this extreme is achieved you know you are in the presence of some properly dramatic light play. For me, I was simply dumbfounded; left holding my gear, smiling ear to ear.

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  • Say Goodbye Don’t Follow

    Say Goodbye Don’t Follow

    Sunset photo of layered pastel clouds, wood pilings, and a smooth water reflection
    Say Goodbye Don’t Follow — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Easily the best scene/lighting/sunset/awesomesauce combo since this and this happened back in early December 2015. Six months, folks. The good stuff doesn’t come around all too often; and that is precisely what makes this hobby worthwhile. The hunt. The chase. The busted failures en route to most welcomed and ofttimes unexpected successes. Landscape photography is a great, albeit fickle beast, you guys.

    Ocean County, New Jersey was socked in rain for most of the day on Friday, but Mr. Weather NJ was on top of things. A look at the frontal passage on the water vapor loop let him know the break in the weather would more than likely time up well with sunset. Little did we know it’d be perfect. Serendipity, folks, it’s necessary when you’re photographing nature. We’ve gotta be there, sure; Mother Nature, however, has to bring the goods. That’s how it played out last night amidst the dank air of Cedar Run Dock Road. A multilayered cloud deck began to pull apart, and light poured through as we watched said clouds ignite into an array of pastel beauty. Combine that with the dying wind that brought a glass sheen to the surface of the waterway and you’re cooking with all the right ingredients for a real deal fist-pumper.

    Chilling on scene with Jeff and Jon we spent a good 45 minutes in relative silence and maximum awe. The only thing that cut through the silence was a loan boater that came creeping through—no wake zones are important, thanks for going slow—leaving perfect wrinkles upon what was moments before pristinely flat water. The look of the subtle waves left in his wake was mesmerizing. Pink and purple prisms moving eastward as though a table cloth was most gently removed from a grand table with the steady hand of years of precision. Better yet was the jam the young dude on the center console had blasting over the marsh. Whatever that slow jam was, I dig it. In fact, we spent the better part of the night fireside at Ben’s trying to puzzle out the tune. Alas.

    Within the quieted moments of sunset fulfillment I’m want to reflect on the ephemeral nature and never ending quest for the perfect sky. These moments come and go. Hold onto them as they arise, drop them as the leave. From there, with a smile on your face move on and work toward the next great moment. There’s a zen in all this infinitely worth seeking even when you’re kicking yourself during the next 10 busts.

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  • Please Don’t Go

    Please Don’t Go

    Pastel sunset photo reflected over a glassy lake at Stafford Forge Wildlife Management Area
    Please Don’t Go — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Mid-Atlantic folks know the sun has been scarce lately. Vacationing somewhere known as Not Here. And while it’s raining as I type the sun did show its face last night at Stafford Forge Wildlife Management Area. It was so nice. Lord, it was lovey-dovey. With the Forge unpopulated and the winds calm, glassy mirrored reflections were the order of the day. The perfect medium for bouncing pastel color illuminating cotton candy clouds. These are restorative moments, people. The doses of goodness that sustain us through the daily grind and ofttimes madness of the world. Let us be mindful of all that is great and right in this world.

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  • Max Relax

    Max Relax

    HDR sunset photo of a pastel sunset sky over a green marsh
    Max Relax — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Between the hour of 7:20 p.m–8:20 p.m. Cedar Run Dock Road was the unequivocal place to be for denizens of southern Ocean County. Conditions were perfect. I’m talking A+. 10 out of 10. Would do again. And folks, I’m not even talking about the sunset. It was one of those salt marsh nights you’re more than like to read about it a book. An evening that comes around maybe a handful of times per year. Room temperature conditions with zero wind, fully absent humidity; bugs nowhere to be found; crips, clear golden light pouring over the emerald green sedge grasses; with migratory birds making way with their evening meal. Pure perfection. Maximum relaxation achievement unlocked. That sunset? While beautiful and serene in its own right was little more than icing on the cake.

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  • Hasn’t It Always Been So?

    Hasn’t It Always Been So?

    HDR photograph of a pastel sunset at Stafford Forge Wildlife Management Area
    Hasn’t It Always Been So? — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    A sunset stopped by this past Monday while I was tucked away among the trees at Stafford Forge. The usual spots were occupied by human types, and the isthmus was flooded over by elevated lake levels. Short on time I buried myself in the trees along the lakeside.

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  • Spring Marsh

    Spring Marsh

    Wide angle landscape sunset photo revealing spring's return to the marsh with the greening sedge
    Spring Marsh — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    I made my way to Cedar Run Dock Road Sunday evening. While I wasn’t greeted with the exact sunset I was hoping for, I was welcomed with surefire signs of Spring. Ospreys perched on their platform; various seabirds I cannot identify—an ornithologist I am not—plucking out easy meals in the friendly confines of harbored tide pools; and sparks of green signaling the sedge grass’ return to life. A sight for sore eyes all after months enduring the Great Browning. From here on out conditions on the marsh should only get better. The sedge will grow and thrive, providing ample cover for productive marsh habitat simultaneously becoming more picturesque. Before long tall waving grasses colored in deep rich greens will fill our foreground and middle ground. Good times.

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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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  • Change Your Latitude

    Change Your Latitude

    Shallow depth of field landscape sunset photo of small bay waves lapping on shore
    Change Your Latitude — 35mm | f/1.4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/20

    I made my way to Surf City Sunset Park last night with modest hopes of capturing a sunset. It’s been a while since I’ve produced some wide angle goodness, and I was eager to get off the schneid. Of course a low level maritime layer brought in a cloud deck to provide just enough blocking of the sun angle. It was a shame too, as the cold air was really firing the pastels on the high level cirrus clouds blocked out by the marine layer. Plans thwarted yet again.

    After a few minutes hemming and hawing and with light fading fast, I opted to switch to the 35mm lens to try to make something out of nothing. From there any kind of skill went out the window in favor of unscientifically hoping for the best. Short on light I set my aperture wide open and dangled the camera body about an inch off the shoreline. From there I popped off a few shots hoping to get lucky and find something interesting waiting on my memory card. The result can be seen above. In hindsight I should have stopped down to f/2.8 and bumped my ISO to 400—maybe 640. This would have given me a bit more depth to my area of acceptable focus, and, coupled with the higher ISO, would have given me a bit more sharpness overall. Alas.

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  • Reframe

    Reframe

    Sunset photograph of Antoinetta's Restaurant in West Creek, NJ
    Reframe — 35mm | f/5.6 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    This shot? Again? Really? If you’re thinking we’ve been here before you’re certainly right. In an effort to get comfortable shooting landscapes at a 35mm focal length, last night I returned—if not in triumph, then in repetition—to the familiar stomping grounds of Antoinetta’s Restaurant. The logic was twofold: 1) I was short on time leaving Dock Road as one of few sunset options, and 2) if you’re testing out the landscape prowess of a new lens it’s probably best to benchmark from a location and frame you’ve successfully photographed before. Having made some winners from this spot in the past, it made as much good sense as any.

    Having made my first set of brackets fixed atop a tripod using manual focus, my initial thoughts of the 35mm wide angle in comparison to its 14mm ultra wide angle focal length counterpart are as follows: (For referenced I’ve included a similarly framed shot of Antoinetta’s photographed at 14mm below.)

    • Staring down the 35mm makes you appreciate just how remarkably wide a 14mm focal length is—I’m roughly in the same spot as in the 14mm rendition below, yet you get the sense I’m substantially closer in the photo above. It’s a significantly tighter frame.
    • With a tighter focal length, though still technically wide angle, the 35mm creates less distortion in the perspective. You’ll notice the restaurant (pictured top right) has straighter, less angled lines—particularly obvious along the roof. The perspective moving the eye toward the vanishing point is far less extreme than at 14mm.
    • For a first pass the color and sharpness seem pretty good. At this point I am fully confident with dialing in manual focus on my 14mm. To such a degree I don’t even check to ensure I’m dialed in. I simply need to look at the position of the focus ring. It’s going to take some time with the 35mm, but through early testing the 35mm is proving plenty sharp.

    Roughly three weeks in, and I am satisfied with my latest gear acquisition thus far. Still a work in progress and despite being another prime lens, the 35mm focal length is proving its versatility.

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    Wide angle HDR landscape photograph of ominous clouds backlit by a pastel sunset at Antoinetta's Restaurant
    Subtlety in Familiarity — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

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