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Filtering by Category: Art


Roni Delmonico

Now I know she'll never leave me
Even as she runs away
She will still torment me
Calm me, hurt me
Move me, come what may
Wasting in my lonely tower
Waiting by an open door
I'll fool myself, she'll walk right in
And be with me for evermore
I rage against the trials of love
I curse the fading of the light
Though she's already flown so far beyond my reach
She's never out of sight
Now I know she'll never leave me
Even as she fades from view
She will still inspire me
Be a part of everything I do
Wasting in my lonely tower
Waiting by an open door
I'll fool myself, she'll walk right in
And as the long, long nights begin
I'll think of all that might have been
Waiting here for evermore...

The Line Between Work and Play

Roni Delmonico

Artwork commissioned by Christine Doody for a friend who was battling cancer.  This piece now belongs to her husband and it hangs in their home, in memory of Aimee and the sunflowers she loved.

Artwork commissioned by Christine Doody for a friend who was battling cancer.  This piece now belongs to her husband and it hangs in their home, in memory of Aimee and the sunflowers she loved.

"The supreme accomplishment is to blur the line between work and play."

I love that quote and feel so blessed to actually know how it feels.  I finally finished rounding out my Client Corner and I'd love it if you'd take a look.  Many thanks to those of you who have collaborated with me or commissioned artwork over the past few years.  It is such a joy to be able to do something I love, every day and to bring joy to others in doing it.  I look forward to waking up every morning and heading out to a gallery filled with light, with art, and with you.  Such a wonderful gift.. you are.

Example of recent brochure designed by Roni Delmonico/The Photographer's Palette

Example of inside tri-fold brochure, designed by Roni Delmonico/The Photographer's Palette,  

Exercising the Creative Muscle

Roni Delmonico

We have so many tools available to us today in the photography world.  I'm really grateful for that because I imagine it's much like what having a jar full of brushes might be for a painter. People ask me all the time what digital painting is and I suppose if you asked ten different artists, you'd get nearly as many answers.  For me, it is a way to express myself visually, using the computer tools and camera skills I have acquired over time.  I select different digital tools to create an effect in the same way a painter selects a brush.  It starts with my camera and it gets all mixed up with my emotions, abilities, light sources and digital tools.  

I've been reading a lot about nutrition and wellness lately and one thing keeps coming up over and over again.  It doesn't take a lot to be well.  Not nearly as much as I thought it did, for a long time. Simple, clean foods, fresh air, sunshine, a quiet walk in the woods at a gentle pace, a massage, learning to actually feel my breath again and to hear my own inner wisdom, along with taking some time to slow down and recharge.  To simply sit and listen.  Just listen. 

By the same token I have given a lot of thought to how exercising the creative muscle doesn't need to take hours on end every day either.  It doesn't take agonizing, forcing ourselves to practice repeated and ridiculously bland ways of doing things because we think we're supposed to do it like that, because we've always done it like that.  That's the equivalent, in my own mind, of hours of endless running on a treadmill.  I am not a hamster!  

Pain stopped me from picking up the camera for months, and the fear that I might have to stop doing this entirely slowly took root in my spirit.  But somewhere along the line, I realized that I can certainly shoot one or two images worth keeping and I can spend just an hour at the computer and still create something lovely each day.  And I've also found that the same practices I am now using for body and mind, are also very good for my creative muscles. Breathing deep, relaxing muscles, appreciating life, slowing down.... how good it is, how important it is... to the health of my creativity. 

A Sign..

Roni Delmonico

May spills color on me playfully, singing.. "Summer is coming, summer is coming!"  And all I can do is laugh out loud and bathe in it, letting it paint my very soul.   - Roni Delmonico

I heard the best quote yesterday on NPR.  It said...

Laughter is the sign that you are not defeated.

Check. :)


Roni Delmonico

As a flower photographer, I developed a style early on where one small area of the photograph is in sharp focus and the rest of the image is very soft.. almost dreamlike.  It started with my love for any and all kinds of bokeh and later developed into my own distinct style that eventually became my signature and the way most people identified images that were uniquely mine. I have often heard it said, that the best way to create a niche for yourself, in whatever you do.. is to develop a style that does not even need to carry your signature, because your stamp is so clearly on it that it is recognizable as yours immediately.  I think of Georgia O'Keeffe, Anne Geddes, Ansel Adams, Vincent van Gogh, Steve Jobs..  It's easy to recognize their imprint.  They left a mark that was distinctly their own.

I was thinking about that today.. pondering how my own style has developed over time, and why.. and I realized that in many ways, the way I create is a direct extension of my own personality and inner core.  I do tend to live my life like this... focusing very tightly on one or two details and letting the rest become somewhat soft and blurry.  That is often a good thing; I can completely focus with dedication for long periods of time on a project I am working on.. and sometimes it's really not, like when I neglect everything else around me to accomplish my own agenda.  

I finally got around to watching Jobs about a week ago and thought.. hmm.  He did a lot of wildly creative things while he was alive, but he also did some incredibly hurtful, awful things too.  The good doesn't cancel out the bad, by any means and I think he realized this at several key points in his life.. most especially when he was nearing the end.  Did it matter then that he made a ding in the universe? When he left this life and moved on to whatever came next for him.. did that Apple he dreamed up as a 20 something year old kid, really matter to him?  Or were the things on his mind then, of a far more personal nature? 

I've reigned in my idea of the universe quite a bit in the past year.  Because when it comes right down to it, the one I want to affect, is far smaller and more personal to me than I originally envisioned when I set out on this creative journey.  And it takes a lot more focused energy to take care of it... than I ever imagined.  

Morning Song

Roni Delmonico

Rarely, am I able to resist treating a photograph like a painter would treat a blank canvas. Sometimes I see in color.  Sometimes I see in texture, form, and light.  It never ceases to amaze me, how you can start out with something you are used to seeing every day (and can often take for granted), and create a completely alternate reality out of it.  For me, that's the beauty of photographic art.  I don't think I'll ever be a documentary realist when it comes to photography. The magic is just too alluring.  Keeping a photo journal has really helped me in a more personal way,  to appreciate the early hours of the morning, but it has also taught me to look at the exact same scene, repeatedly ... in new and different ways.  I am so fortunate to have this particular canvas to work with.  I know this, and I am really trying to treat that with the respect and gratitude it deserves.  

It's so beautiful how water meets the sky in this place I call home.  How they mimic each other and complement each other in absolute and unquestionable harmony.  I can't tell you how many times I sit on my bench down at the water's edge and think, wow... I wish I could share this with my friends in person. The way it feels when the mist is crawling softly across the glassy smooth surface of the water, as much as the way it looks.  How good it smells when you breathe deep and the scent of earth and water mingle with mother nature's interesting mix of floral perfume and pungent musk on the air.  The loud squawking of hundreds of species of birds, competing for your attention all around you as you try to untangle their calls and surprise yourself with how many  you have come to recognize. The joyful splashing sound of fish after fish, leaping and breaking the water's surface with glee, as if celebrating the absence of ominous lazy fisherman who smacked the alarm clock and went back to sleep with a groan.  Tomorrow ... I'll get up earlier to fish...tomorrow.... Ah but what will they miss, today?  What will I... if I make the same choice?

When I looked at this scene before me, I could almost imagine a Native American woman standing at the water's edge taking it all in before she begins preparations for another busy day. Her black hair lays in a silky waterfall down her back with just the slightest gentle breeze lifting it up and down at the edges. A small child with huge dark eyes stands beside her, silently watchful. Her hand rests gently on his head and they breathe together in unison. I quietly ponder whether I am seeing the echo of an image from the past in this place.  The spirit is strong here. They look up at me and smile and I smile back, before picking up my camera reluctantly, turning back toward the house, and once again whispering a prayer of thankfulness with a deep sigh for my home.  There are stories here. Echoes of lives that came before. Memories of my own children playing on this riverbank.  It all sounds so beautiful to me in these quiet morning hours.  And so begins another day...

The Color of My Laughter

Roni Delmonico

I had a conversation with my son recently about abstract art.  He has a difficult time understanding its purpose and why some painters like Jackson Pollock made so much money on paintings he thinks he might have been able to paint himself.  We have a favorite Mexican Restaurant in Syracuse where several abstract paintings are hanging on the walls and they consist primarily of bold colors and straight lines, with a few splashes of paint mingled in.  The entire table ended up in conversation about those paintings, with just about everyone shaking their heads and giving up trying to understand.  He's not alone in feeling disconnected from the language of abstract art, but he would be remiss to simply dismiss it, in my opinion. Attempting to understand other perspectives is always a good exercise.

As I pondered that last night, I realized... this is something I love about humanity.  We all have such different gifts and speak such different languages to the world and to each other.  The beautiful body of mankind looks like this to me.  Some of us are the thinkers/philosophers (brain), some are the do-ers (hands and feet).  Others are the arms... oh the arms!  How beautiful it is to fall into those, whose job it is to hold. (I hope you all have arms  in your life). The shoulders... a place to rest. The eyes.. those who are visionary.  And then we have those organs which you cannot see.  The internal ones.  The heart and soul... the artists and musicians.  Imagine if we took that away.  No more movie scores.  No more paintings on the walls.  No more family portraits.  No music on your ride home from work.

I read a book once about how we all speak and respond to five different love languages.  I always thought that was so interesting.  How if we speak our language without ever learning the languages of those around us, then we'll struggle forever to connect and never truly do so. I believe abstract art is a kind of language. It's the language of emotion and I speak it often in my own work so it is easier for me to understand it, than it is for my logic-minded son.

This morning I wanted to create something that conveyed the abstract language of laughter. I wanted to hear it and to feel it, bubbling up from my spirit because laughter is good medicine and I could use a high dose of it today.  I didn't expect to find it in the color blue.  I associate blue with melancholy and sadness most of the time.  But it is also the glorious color of a spring sky, or a new egg in a robin's nest, or the color of my hydrangeas which will be in full bloom in only a few months. And this morning... it is the color of my laughter. 

Every good artist paints what he is.
— Jackson Pollock