Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: sunset

Sunset photography

  • Ice World Ignition

    Ice World Ignition

    Explosive 14mm sunset photo over disused docks and frozen bay water.
    Ice World Ignition — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Tonight made for a proper sunset. The essential cadre rolled deep and even brought the support staff. There was snowpack, sea ice, disused dock pilings, and a painted reflection brushed by a solar goodbye burning out slow with smoldering intensity. It was fantastic.

    Sure the temperature was biting and the wind unforgiving. Of course leaving the house with a pair of gloves would have made perfect sense. Hey, even a woolen hat would have proved wise. Yet when the ice world ignites the fire inside burns passion red.

    This is winter at the beach. This is when the power sunset hits, when the seascape on our eastern flank locks in ice and casts a panoply of color. The marshes, bays, and coastal ways captured by cold, locked tight to the landscape despite battle from tidal forces. The power needed to freeze the land and stem the tide is striking. Cold, weather, nature—it all means business. A reminder of impermanence and subordination to big ‘N’ Nature.

    Cold as I was, I was beyond pleased to be out exercising camera tactics amid the cold splendor. It was obvious this was the best shooting conditions I’ve encountered in months, even longer. The most promising since late last summer when I made a bunch of great shots only to have a corrupted file transfer render all data unretrievable. That moment had left a sour taste in my mouth for months. This evening cleansed the palette and froze it all away.

    After a low output 2018, I am pleased with efforts and outcomes in 2019. I committed to making this a better year for my photography. I am delivering against the commitment. Writing about it here helps hold me accountable. It makes it more real. A commitment to myself and to you welcomed website visitor. Yes, you.

    With any luck it is a touch warmer where you are at, and you were able to enjoy this photograph in comfort. Cheers, and thanks for your support and attention.

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  • When Winter Comes

    When Winter Comes

    14mm winter sunset photo made over frozen and snowy salt marsh.
    When Winter Comes — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    The onset of winter has me inspired. After a subpar shooting season in 2018, leave it to a modest snowfall to turn the tide. First came the photo I made at Stafford Forge—an inspired output that pleased the residents of your favorite social media platform. Two days later, when a fine splash of color made an appearance over the familiar expanse of Dock Road marsh, I was there, and I was ready. A calming sight—the serene scene. Ice creeping in atop staid tide pools, snow pack propping up marsh grass, and sublime pastels coloring the sky with a master’s touch.

    I had great company, too. My girlfriend’s two year old daughter made the trip with me. An excellent co-pilot if there ever was one. We hung out roadside taking in the bracing air and pretty pinks in an understated bonding moment. I even had her pop off a few shots of her own, hoping to bring joy to the next generation of photographers. It’s remarkable, really, the intensity and focus an untarnished brain brings to new encounters. I’m not sure where we lose that capacity as adults, but we are no doubt poorer for it. Oh for the wisdom of babes.

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  • A Window to Winter

    A Window to Winter

    Square format 14mm photo of fresh snow atop pine trees at sunset.
    A Window to Winter — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Somehow I made it through the entirety of 2018 without making a single photo trip to Stafford Forge. I know it was a down year for photo output, but sheesh. At least I am checking it off my list early in 2019, am I right? With fresh mid-January snowfall it was the perfect destination to capture the final light of day.

    The pines were magical. Cotton ball snow resting easy atop pine boughs as far as the eye could see. Fresh powder and a last gasp of golden pink light set a dramatic stage. More than the photography it was invigorating to stand outside in crisp, bracing air; taking in the unmistakable air of fresh fallen snow. There’s nothing quite like it. A true tonic for the soul.

    I was out shooting and catching up with Jonathan Carr—who turned 39 today, happy birthday, man—and we couldn’t help note how similar the whole tableau was to March 2015. A similar snow fell across the region and the skies broke right in time for a power play golden hour into sunset. I made three great shots that day, and you can seem them here, here, and here. That kind of setup never gets old, and I will take more of that, please.

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  • Familiar Spaces

    Familiar Spaces

    Wide angle winter sunset photo made over tranquil salt marsh.
    Familiar Spaces — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    This evening I made my way to my most familiar of spots: Cedar Run Dock Road. It is my local escape when the quickened pace of life demands a tonic of peace, nature, and a slow burning winter sunset. I am not alone here. Aside from the lucky ones who make this stretch of marsh their home, locals take slow drives on the regular to soak in the sights, sounds, and sunsets. Along the near three mile stretch of road you will never look far to find a slow-puttering car, dogs walking their owners, and friendly denizens commingling amid the splendor. If good vibes and a safe space for introverts to get about are your thing you can do far worse than this place. Of course, watch out for our terrapin friends making their turtle crossings come summer.

    It’s a fine open space. A sprawling stretch of salt marsh set about as far as the eye can see. Flanked to the east by Long Beach Island and hemmed in to the west by a stand of cedars and pines, it is far departure from the cluttered, angry, New Jersey suburban sprawl we see on TV. Nature is out there if you know were to go and find it. I’m lucky to never have to go too far.

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  • Winter Wisps

    Winter Wisps

    14mm wide angle sunset photo over salt marsh.
    Winter Wisps — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Thanksgiving has passed and winter works its way across the marsh. The season of contrasting relationships makes way. The sting of biting cold brings the cleansing fresh air. The deep breathe to purify the soul. The truncated days lend us long nights close together. The cold brings fire. The sublime state of snow paints nature’s purest beauty. The deepest freezes set skies alight smoldering deep until the stars burn bright. Winter wisps await upon our fingers’ tips.

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  • The Auspices

    The Auspices

    Wide angle pastel sunset photo over salt marsh.
    The Auspices — 14mm | f/8.0 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Do you make much of signs? Omens, auguries, celestial alignments? Perhaps we but note the signs we wish to see dismissing the rest as noise? Confirmation bias made visual and symbolic. Yet does it matter if we construct our own signs? Or own futures? When nature mainlines your being to confirm the positive in our better selves we all stand better for it. The mechanism, contrived or divine need not matter. Drink in the tonic it will not harm you.

    Today was full of opportunity. A chance to seize and to share. A chance to be better than yesterday. To move forward to new beginnings. It packed all the emotions of wracked nerves to wide the wide open expanse of ease and elation. Today and all its opportunity capped itself in an illumination of natural pastel.

    I knew it had been a long while since I last made a sunset photograph. I did not know that gap spanned back all the way to June, 30. Damn near 25% of the year gone without a capture. I know my photography has taken a dip in output and it is my sincere hope the auspices of today are a portents of things to come.

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  • Some Summer Night

    Some Summer Night

    Wide angle HDR sunset photo over marsh grass and reflected in water.
    Some Summer Night — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Aside from a fervent two hours of commissioned photography where I popped off some 260 frames back in mid-June, of which I suspect I did a poor job, yesterday, June 29, marked my biggest output of 2018. Shooting flower macros by day and wide angle sunsets by night, I clocked in some ~150 frames. There is, of course, much more to photography than raw numbers. Volume does not the photographer make. Nevertheless, it was rewarding to be out doing my own thing on my own terms. Especially after tweaking my introversion to the max at an afternoon event. Which social phobias aside, was splendid by the way. Nature’s nightcap by way of a sparkling sunset conferred its own restoration to my soul. A bug strewn boon I met with open arms. Insects aside, rich hues of green, purple, and pink cast glory upon the Dock Road marsh.

    Come some summer night in late June the marsh is in peak form. Teeming with color and life there is a palpable energy infusing the air. Birds feed and fish run aplenty, all the while bugs and winds sing harmony to the coastal tableau. The color potency of the marsh grass takes my breath away. A powerful panoply of peer green pumping with life. Everything feels so new, so alive. Its ephemeral nature amplifies my appreciation. I know in mere weeks reds and browns will work in upon the marsh as the gregarious greens fall back to more muted tones. Instead of lamenting this change it allows me to focus more on the moment. It brings clarity to each sunset I capture around this time. Moments may indeed be fleeting, but their impact surely lingers on.

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  • Back on the Fire

    Back on the Fire

    Sunset photo of pastel color clouds over reflective water and green salt marsh.
    Back on the Fire — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Two sunsets in one week? Two sunsets in one week! This is like three months photographic output at my paltry 2018 pace. Photography has been on the back burner this year yet I am keen to get back on the fire. As it was earlier this week, I made a last minute 8:00 p.m. decision to drop the apathy and get out to the marsh. Standing in my driveway I saw Mammatus clouds were setting up over head. It looked to hold through sunset. To my gear I bolted.

    From there it was the usual drive out to Cedar Run Dock Road. Engaged in rapid knee bouncing to exercise the am I going to make it in time? low grade anxiety. I arrived in 12 minutes in a world of peak green. At a salt marsh imbued with the emerald glow of life and energy. Nothing beats it when a pastel sky sets up over top casting a subtle pink veil over the sea of green landscape. Especially when the pink tones reflect powerfully in the small pools of brackish water cutoff from the main estuary flow. The pink and the green compliment each other so well rendering a scene made to transfix.

    Getting back into the sunset flow and returning to the basics that brought me this far I set up low on the marsh. Tripod and camera a little more than a foot above sea level, nestled in a patch of eel grass. Once I’m dialed in it is little more than bracket city from there—making exposures and day falls to night. The fire is back and the pace will quicken.

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  • The Turn Around

    The Turn Around

    Pastel color sunset photo over green salt marsh and tide pools.
    The Turn Around — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    I am glad I got off the couch. Exhausted, I arrived home from work at 7:00 p.m., turned on the Yankee game and immediately fell asleep. I did at least catch Brett Gardner’s first pitch dinger. Fast forward forty minutes and I woke up on said couch. So began the stay here you’re so warm and cozy versus the no, go out and make a photograph battle.

    The latter won out—and thank goodness. With a quick scramble for suitable clothes, I grabbed my gear and stashed them in the trunk. I made my way east to Cedar Run Dock Road listening The Order of the Phoenix. I cannot get enough of all things Hogwarts these days—albeit more than a decade late.

    Over the next four miles I was oscillating between sunset anticipation and sheer disdain for Dolores Umbridge. Checking the clock obsessively in between to calculate how much time I’d have to set up. I was cutting it close to sunset.

    With a few minutes to spare I was on the marsh and making the most of a quality early simmer pastel sky. Cotton candy coloring overtop a rich green carpet of fresh marsh growth. I am glad I got off the couch.

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