Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: sunset

Sunset photography

Holgate Time
Holgate Time — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Holgate, New Jersey. Long Beach Island’s southern most tip makes for some high drama in the dead of winter. Considering its south-by-southwest orientation it aligns splendidly for the southwest sunsets that render over the winter months; giving photographers options to shoot toward the southwest, or to maintain a southeastern angle to work the shore break into the frame. (As I did in the photo above.) I can’t act like Holgate was my idea. All hats be tipped—real or imagined—go to Jeff Ruemeli who called me a little after 2:00 p.m. to let me know he had it on good authority that winter storm Jonas wreaked some havoc down there, and he had heard other photographer’s lauding its praises.
While I did Instagram a cellphone photograph of one of the uncovered jetties, I went with a more conventional exposure for my main image. The undulating sand was impossible to ignore, and after a brief warm up in the car, I set to working out how best to convey the pattern. Admittedly I struggled determining the optimal height to expose the photo. I wanted to get close enough to draw the eye to the reticulated sand, but still wanted to ensure the shore break was discernible across the center of the image.
I went back and forth between posting this or a vertical orientation exposure that I made handheld from a single frame. While I compositionally prefer the other shot, because it was handheld at a somewhat sluggish 1/6 of a second shutter it just wasn’t quite as sharp as it needed to be. Certainly not sharp enough to render cleanly at a large enough size. Imperfections aside I still may post it here tomorrow as the leading lines of the photo are a real standout. We’ll see.
Big time shout out to the kite surfer battling the elements and working the shore break big time. He owned that steady wind out of the south-southeast, and was riding with noteworthy balance and endurance. He went non-stop for what must have been an hour, seldom if ever coming off his board. Yeah, and it wasn’t exactly warm out there, either. Cheers, buddy.
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January 30, 2016
Fired and Frozen
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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January 26, 2016
A Bridge Too Far
A Bridge Too Far — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
There would be weather they said. Follow the global models they said. Disregard the NAM they said. The heaviest bands will never push north they said. Well here we are one day after the Blizzard of 2016, and I’m sure many a backs are barking from a long day of digging out after wondering, dude, where’s my car? This was one for the record books, folks, and even though the biggest snows happened just a few miles to my north and to my west, the coast sure saw a battering at the hands of a fired up Atlantic Ocean. After spending the better of the weekend weathering the storm with friends, fretting over rain/snow lines only to later find myself and swan diving into snow after the changeover, my buddy and I finally made it out for some real deal photo making this evening.
After much hemming and hawing over where to shoot, most of which happened during a pitiful attempt to clear out my driveway, an unsolicited query from family friends on Dock Road asking my Mother if I was out shooting said road solidified the final destination. Understanding the marsh isthmus no doubt took a serious tidal beating, we didn’t exactly know what we were in for at the Road of Dock.
The scene upon arrival was otherworldly. Elevated sea levels and ice flows littering the marsh dominated the landscape. While the tide was mostly down at this point, its frozen remnants were not hard to parse out. The vestiges of a foul tempered nor’easter were visible horizon to horizon, and before long the power of the wind was clearly on display. No less than four telephone poles were down, with power lines sidewinding the single road for what must have been a mile. Yes the scene was surreal but that was quickly supplanted with the sobering reality that real humans live amidst this battered place of wonderment, and here they are tasked with wintering it out sans power in the wake of a powerful winter storm—one that will most certainly be regaled as historic in the pantheon of east coast storms.
While my picture making was at a minimum this weekend, yet this photograph marks my first documentation of New Jersey in a post Winter Storm Jonas world. Here’s hoping you fared as well as possible during this powerful weather system, and were able to make the most of your time indoors. Cheers.
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January 24, 2016
Perhaps this is Goodbye?
Perhaps this is Goodbye? — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Be it superstition, confirmation bias, or an actual demonstrable trend to which I have neither the data nor scientific awareness to prove, pre-storm sunset skies always seem to deliver. Today sure fit the narrative. Anticipating winter storm Jonas’ arrival has ground my personal perception of time to a relative halt. Since Monday night the hours, such as they are, have ticked by like days as I click weary-eyed from one model run to another, waiting interminably on weather to arrive. Yet no matter what the models show me, and despite the Blizzard Watch we’re sitting under currently, the pangs of last year’s bust at the hands of Juno gnaw away at my insides. I just want the snow to get here, stay here, and with any, luck bring little to no rain to southeastern New Jersey. Of course that toasty Atlantic Ocean looms large, ready to push warm maritime air onto our shores if the center of low pressure creeps close enough.
But let’s push my selfishness aside for a second, coastal flooding and beach erosion is the real concern here. But as the far less sexy story overshadowed by the high probability of widespread 12″ snow across much of the Mid-Atlantic, the tidal implications of a roiling ocean have been lost in the shuffle. We’re looking at an extended storm with a duration over 24 hours complete with a broad wind field of tightly packed isobars slinging wind gusts of around 60mph onto New Jersey shores. It’s subsequent storm surge will be aided by an ill-timed Full Moon giving an unneeded boost to already moderate to major tide heights. At least three high tides will be affected from Saturday morning through Sunday evening.
It is with this reality I title my post. Understanding the marina is now state owned and seemingly set to restore to its natural state, there’s a good change this little cove will look quite different as soon as Monday. These derelict posts of wood that once gave aid to docks and quays may soon be little more than a memory. This is why in considering where on Great Bay Boulevard to photograph today I recalled the wise words of Ben Wurst, instructing me to shoot here as often as possible fore it may soon be gone.
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January 21, 2016
Cold Milestone
Cold Milestone — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Anyone in the mid-Atlantic who even bothered to step foot outside today will find no shocking revelation in my declaration of today’s cold. Sure it was below freezing all day, but holy cow did the biting cold and piercing winds level up out on the marsh of Cedar Run Dock Road. The wind ripping across a rapidly freezing marsh plane was eye watering and hand destroying. Not even some impromptu jumping jacks were making a difference. It was no fun touching the cold metal of my tripod, clumsily thumbing the extension latches to unfurl the legs. But these are of course the chilled hazards of the job.
In hindsight extending the tripod legs wasn’t even necessary. This evening turned into one of those shoots where I wound up going with my very first set of brackets. This exposure was made with the camera and tripod low to the ground; tucked into the frozen marsh grass to draw the viewer into the scene. A big part of why I’m posting this shot is because it’s the only set of brackets that still had enough sunlight to catch the pink glow painting the frozen edge of the marsh grass. Thus bringing visual warmth to a scene that was otherwise and quite literally devoid of it. Those sunbeams didn’t hurt, either.
Celebrating Two Years
Fun bit of housekeeping: this here website is celebrating its second birthday today. Since I first uploaded Beyond the Gray Sky two years ago I’ve added 240 photographs good for 232 posts. I’m beyond pleased with my small little home on the internet, and I hope you’ve enjoyed my modest contribution to what I hope is solid internet content. Here’s looking forward to a promising third year. Thank you.
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January 18, 2016
For Colton
For Colton — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
This evening my cousin and his wonderful wife welcomed their first child to the world. A happy, healthy boy named Colton. He’s only been around for a few hours now and he’s already proudly sporting a foreboding Molyneux head. Suffice it to say today was a good day. Knowing the labor battle began early this morning odds were good the latest addition to our family would make its arrival today. I use its only because until the time of birth we were all in the dark on the sex—though my gut was telling me it was a boy the whole time. The gift of hindsight now makes my prognostication air tight.
With good karma filling the air and frontal boundaries driving the air, I had a strong sense the universe was on my side for producing an all out drama light show. The universe for its part delivered. We had rain showers develop overhead. We had complex cumulus cloud structures turning and tearing as the first front moved through. We even had rainbows. The sky was a fast paced play, with Cedar Run Dock Road its stage, and Jon Carr and I its captive audience. I kept remarking to Jon over and over that tonight was about as good a period of 60 minutes of light play that I could remember. With no exaggeration there were great exposures to be made in any and all directions. Conditions were that good. As far as I’m concerned this was all Colton—Molyneuxs know how to make an entrance—and Colton arrived about an hour or so after I exposed this photograph. This was how you finish what started off as a dark, rainy January day.
Welcome, cousin. I cannot wait to meet you and watch you grow. Love you, buddy. To Tiffany and Daniel: congratulations, you guys. You’re going to be tremendous parents. Today was a good day.
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January 10, 2016
Here Again
Here Again — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/60
Happy New Year
It was my first time back at it in 2016. Yesterday I ventured out to Dock Road and returned to The Eye to photograph a sunset. Conditions were hardly perfect, but I sure had the itch to get out and shoot. It had been a while. Driving out on the marsh I was immediately surprised by the ice. While it’s been cold these past few days it never crossed my mind that it was cold enough to freeze the brackish water of the marsh over the course of a 48 hour arctic outbreak. But here we are. A nice bonus as it brings the proper seasonal feel to the marsh. It’s a joy of mine to document its temporal changes and the pictures left behind serve as a nice little timestamp at a place defined by flux.
Follow Along
Quick reminder! If you’re on Instagram of Facebook you can easily follow along with my pictures there. Instagram followers get an added bonus as I share my mobile photography there as well—nothing taken with my cellphone has yet to appear on this site.
Shop News
Since recently launching my online shop I’ve decided to make most, if not all, of my photographs available for purchase from this point forward. Considering we all enjoy different things and should thereby celebrate our personal subjectivity I hope to have something for everyone. This should also ease the burden of potential customers having to reactively reach out to ask to have their favorite shot added. So let’s give this a try!
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January 8, 2016
But wait, there’s more!
But wait, there’s more! — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
While I already posted my 2015 retrospective last Thursday, I have to say this photograph would have garnered at minimum a passing consideration for the best of list. The depth and definition in the clouds of yesterday’s sunset sky was something else; undulating clouds positioned at multiple levels set the stage for dramatic interplay of light and shadows. The whole scene started out pretty mundane but once the sun dropped below the horizon a slow but steady pastel pulse colored in the clouds over the next 10 minutes. Soon the whole of the sky was ablaze. Wisps of stretched cotton candy stretched and pulled in the atmosphere winds setting the backdrop for the low-level cloud deck you see encroaching from the right, just above the horizon in an intimidating Star Destroyer lurch.
Taking a step back my hope is that this sky opens the gate for the glory of winter sunsets. This color was associated with a frontal boundary that finally brought seasonal temperatures to the mid-Atlantic. We’ve been impossibly warm this December and while some unplanned warmth is sure to prolong flip-flop season, it’d be nice to get some arctic air drama lighting up the sky as it did yesterday afternoon on Dock Road. Polar Vortex I implore you.
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December 28, 2015
Lookout Landing
Lookout Landing — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
Does this count as self portraiture? I’m not certain but this may count for salvaging a sunset shoot. How salvaged? Only you can be the judge of that. Sunset sits the saddle of boom or bust. For a moment yesterday seemed headed for boom town, but instead just kinda petered out into grey-blue darkness. But that’s all good.
Eager to make something out of nothing I thought why not hop into my own picture for a change? Could be cool, right? Simply set the timer to 10-seconds and find a spot that seems to be on one of the outer thirds of the frame. Hard to go wrong with the rule of thirds. Once in position I remained as still as possible knowing I was popping off 7 brackets. Total excess I’m sure, but hip-hip-hooray for digital storage.
The last bit of the workflow brought some cross processing in post production. A final effort to complete a different look that seemed fitting for what was a different kind of shoot. It seemed fitting to layer over a washed out veil of mood. With a new year fast approaching it only makes sense to look ahead to the future with equal parts trepidation and wonder. I’m trying to collect my own thoughts to figure out where my photography should head in 2016. Do I try something completely new? Like portraiture? Revisit some kind of photo project like the one that got all this started in 2012? Identify an area of weakness for focus and improvement? Or maybe try deeper forays into shameless self-promotion? Of course I could follow the Greg Molyneux as water M.O. and seek out the path of least resistance to keep doing what I’m doing? Or some kind of mash-up combination? That said there are two things I do know: 1) I want to do more black and white, and 2) in the very near term I need to get cracking on my best of 2015 post so it’s ready to go come Christmas Eve.
December 21, 2015