Greg Molyneux Photography

Tag: surf city

Roll It Over
Roll It Over — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/1250
Monday, June 19, 2017, saw an outbreak of severe thunderstorms fire up across the Mid-Atlantic. Eager as ever to make some photographs, Weather NJ’s, Jonathan Carr and I made way for Surf City Sunset Park. While things looked good at the outset the storms lost steam as they charged their way across New Jersey toward the coast. Sinking air spoiled the party as a once potent line of storms was waylaid right before our eyes. Disappointed but not shocked, this is standard fare for us along the coast. Storm lines have a way of falling apart more often than not.
What was more surprising, especially in the face of such ominous skies, were the bay beach goers keen to keep swimming. Oblivious, one family hopped in the water a mere 20 minutes before would be impact. Another woman arrived about 10 minutes later looking to get in some laps. She at least had the good sense to ask me to holler once the weather took a turn. I don’t exactly scare easy in the face of thunderstorms, but even I would have stayed out of the water with electrified air so close. Alas all is well that ends well, no calamity befell our implacable beach goers. Considering the storms were abating it seemed acceptable, otherwise I would have pressed the issue on account of their safety.
Of course storms fired back up after Jon and I bailed on our shooting attempt. For the next 90 minutes or so our region saw some decent storm action as a line of storms backed in from the ocean. Too bad we were too busy eating chicken at that time. And that’s the way it goes sometimes.
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June 24, 2017
East Watch by the Sea
East Watch by the Sea — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
The Saturday night burn was long and sweet. Like a lasting goodbye to the one we hold most dear. Sunset came, it saw, it conquered. Anxiety fell still to a palette so bright and unmoving it was as though the hands of time ceased to be. Seconds turned to minutes. The minutes, hours. And the hours into untold epochs circling the wheel of time only to flow back on itself. As if under a spell I floated from one patch of sand to the next. Bounding from spot to spot under an endless curtain of rainbow color. So bright was the evening air, as if by some device pinkish hues worked to seep upward from the ground as a warm bog might do when met with a cold morning. When time startled back to work the world fell slow toward a purple hush.
For millennia at least three has been an auspicious number, and so it stands with a triumvirate symmetry that I walk away with no less than three photographs from my Saturday evening jaunt in Surf City. With the first and second already published, it is here I give you the third and perhaps final moment from an evening that will long rest in memory. As I was first learning my craft I was so consumed with photographing the scene that the moment itself was often lost on me. It was an honest greed that consumed me. A singular desire for one great shot, and often little else. Now with more seasoning to my tenure I am back to take on the moment as a means to its own end. The photographs cast as a supporting role to bolster the memory of the mind.
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April 11, 2017
Fortify
Fortify — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
I’m always quick to notice the berm every time I hit the beach. After the sound of the ocean it’s immediately the next thing that calls my attention. It’d be easy to chalk this up to proximity. The berm is the first thing you walk through, but I suspect there’s more to it than that. It’s the form of the mound, the pattern of the sand and grasses, bound together through works of sand fence. Once a bit of time and weather has done its work it lends a hallmark look to Mid-Atlantic beaches. Unencumbered by boardwalk, this adds to the natural feel of Long Beach Island. One of many reasons I am overfond with my geographic neighbor, the slender barrier island to the east.
Built up over the past decade, LBI dunes have gone under a bit of a transformation. Large swaths of berm have gone from modest bumps to a deep running wavelength; added height and depth have fortified the island’s defenses and appeal. Perhaps it’s infringed on a favored view, but I for one find the look far more appealing. A firm separation between innumerable residences spanning the shore and the natural beach. In some sections the dunes shoulder up high enough to block out any semblance of settlement. Beyond the aesthetic this lends a tangible benefit: Protection from the next big surge.
As for this photograph, Saturday night on the beaches of Surf City was something special. This marks the second of three photographs I plan to publish from the session. If you haven’t already check out the first offering. While not made last night this shot reminds me of a bayside photograph I made in Holgate back in 2015. Both the colors and the balance of the composition have a strong likeness.
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April 10, 2017
It Starts My Mind Flowing
It Starts My Mind Flowing — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/25
The day broke clear. Northwest winds funneling crisp air across the coastal plain. One last battle in the fight between winter and spring. Unseen as it was. Sleeping late as usual the day made off with a quick start. Catch up after a long night redeeming Hyrule. I bounded about from laundry to bill pay, then started out to break my fast. Pinched between a Yankee game and a scheduled jog the clock ticking.
After a modest meal I folded some laundry and made for the park. Headphones in, feet moving in time. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot, left foot. Paced to the audible sounds of The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. As Black Riders closed in on Weathertop I could feel the pain of Middle-Earth circling. With a slip of the ring and the pierce of a dagger, Angmar draws first blood. An already long journey has somehow only begun.
Chapter ends and my run is over. Breathless from worry yet rejuvenated in my own realm I took note of cirrus wisps dancing above. Shy and coy upon a blue stage. With a strange speed they moved, and I stood for a moment upon a crest to look again. And again. A cloud dance, I thought. How quaint. Yet it was here I knew sunset would prove worthy this night. For the fiery eye in the land where shadows lie may never rest nor ever die.
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April 9, 2017
Clear View
Clear View — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/10
Life comes in moments. The best are calm, soft, unpredictable moments. Moments where past and future fall quiet before the present. Moments of awareness proving what the relaxed mind can be. A mind free of worry and regret. Free of what was and what may still come.
Such a moment hit me looking out over Barnegat Bay last week. On the boards I stood transfixed by a sublime gradient of light passing on from sunset to dusk. Its tempo put to time by subtle undulating movement upon an otherwise still sheen of water. Daylight’s last burn playing soft tricks upon its surface. An elemental merger of fire and water.
At one with the moment I stood synchronous with slow, steady breathing. In perfect time with a relaxed heart. A moment where time fell still and the world stopped turning. Sans camera I stood. Breathing. Watching. Observing. The moment and I, together as one.
Back to the real world I looked back toward my trunk and thought, I better make a picture.
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March 29, 2017
From Stone to Sand
From Stone to Sand — 14mm | f/2.8 | ISO 400 | EXP 1/60
The wheel of time pays little mind to the trappings of ephemeral life. Its burden is the long game. Tireless at work upon the great mill of the universe grinding all back to the stardust from whence we came. The wheel’s is a blind justice—never to grant favor, never put off its task—the laws of physics its only master. As the arrow of time points forward the blossom of our creation journeys back to dust, and onward the mill turns. On and on; working, grinding, rounding. Bringing wear to young life as it works stone to pebble to sand to dust. A spinning wheel of entropy eroding us back to our most basic of constituent parts. This is the game to which we have been cast. Forever turning. Forever worked upon at the cosmic millstone until we are cast back together shone in new light.
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March 26, 2017
Imprinted
Imprinted — 14mm | f/2.8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/100
After making Friday’s sunset photograph I turned my attention to the waterfront and decided to do things a little different. While I kept with my 14mm lens, I did switch from manual focus to autofocus and stopped up from f/8 to f/2.8—the latter being wide open on my wide angle lens. From here I opted to mess with some selective focus on a footprint marked upon the sand. I thought it might make an interesting foreground prop were I to get close enough. From a distance of roughly three inches I engaged back button focus on my camera and let technology take over the focus ring. Once it found its mark giving a reassuring beep of approval, I depressed my shutter and exhaled. Instead of rendering a tack sharp image from edge to edge of the frame, as is my usual execution when shooting wide angle landscapes, here the background is able to fade away keeping the attention on the dollop of tread upon sand. It’s easy to get stuck in our routines, executing the same process over and over, so it’s liberating to cut loose and throw a changeup every now and then. It is spring training time, after all. Baseball is back, baby!
This shoot wasn’t all sunshine and roses, however. When doing my thing in Lightroom I waffled on whether or not to go with a 3:2 ratio—what you see here—versus a 2:1 crop. I liked them both for somewhat different reasons, ultimately settling upon the former because the sunset sky is a bit more balanced with the foreground. Granted the 2:1 brought more focus on the footprint and the individual grains of sand, but there was something about leaving the upper third of the frame as sky that made me a bit unsure. Best stay with the 3:2 in the sake of balance here. Or not. As I’ve written many times, while it’s good to have our rules it is also good to break them.
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February 27, 2017
False Spring
False Spring — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures
It’s been warm, folks. Strangely warm for February. Temperatures have ranged in the low- to mid-70s the past two days and it has many wondering if spring is already be upon us. Its tempting to give into the notion with nascent buds and bulbs beginning to show themselves early around much of the Mid-Atlantic. And while it’s easy to party like short sleeve weather is here to stay I cannot help but think back on the past few backloaded winters that have crushed any and all dreams of an early spring. With March looming I worry if we’ll pay the price for what has been otherwise a spectacular February. Will a prolonged cold snap of freezing temperatures lay waste to the early plant and flower growth leaving us with a less than stellar bloom? Time will tell—but hope springs eternal. Pardon my pun.
On Long Beach Island this evening to make photos things were less warm. While temperatures still hung in the mid-50s cold bay and ocean water cast a reminder that we’ve still got a way to go. The micro climate is always something of a marvel. My house, which sits about five miles west of this photo as the crow flies, sat a good 15 degrees warmer than our barrier island. That’s just the way it goes; late to cool down in fall thanks to warm water, and late to heat up in spring thanks to cold water. That’s the ocean, folks—it’s big and it matters.
My choice of title is surely a tie in to the early warmth and its transient tease (probably), but it’s more surely a hat tip to Mr. Cool Hat, George R. R. Martin himself. The sage of Westeros and author of A Song of Ice and Fire. The year of the false spring occurred at the time of the tourney at Harrenhal—a tournament which proved a watershed moment in triggering Robert’s Rebellion and the ensuing events that have become well known to book readers and television watchers alike. Winters are long and cold in Westeros, you guys, and climate change be damned at least we’re not dealing with the Long Night in our realm as yet. For the night is dark and full of terrors.
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February 24, 2017
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