Simonetta Ronconi

Canto

simonetta — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 13:14:29 +0000

Yes, I know, we have been manipulated long enough to pay attention to this date, the fourteenth of February. And, yes, I know, we abhor corny lines and sticky declarations of affection when we feel no real sign of it. Still, there is always something, somehow, that catches our attention and let us remember our pure feelings for somebody today, apart for our beloved ones, of course.
When I saw this bouquet, few moments ago, I had to think about an amazing American singer and the deep impact she unwittingly had in my life. Two of her songs accidentally reached my ears in two pivotal moments of my existence and left an indelible mark. Her words supported and sustained me in such an intimate way that I can only celebrate the unlimited power a song can have, as a pure message to humankind, when all the ingredients merge in sheer bliss. In her first song she sang about the Greatest Love Of All, her second one was I Will Always Love You. She passed away few days ago and I bow to her accomplishments and complex mission on Earth.

Simonetta Ronconi

Dispassion

simonetta — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 22:06:48 +0000

Vondelpark, the green heart of Amsterdam, has always a story to tell and today, a glorious winter day, it allowed me to discover this elegant hydrangea, covered in snow but serene and graceful as if it were still in bloom. I admired its shape and perfect snow hat and marveled at the delicate nuances Mother Nature gives its petals in every phase of its life. Later I promised myself that I would look up for its meaning since I know that each flower has a specific connotation, according to Victorian floriography. The language of flowers was at that time a means of communication in which various flowers and floral arrangements were used to send coded messages, allowing individuals to express feelings which otherwise could not be spoken. Few months ago I was introduced to this specific code while reading a novel written by Vanessa Diffenbaugh, The language of flowers. Her first novel. Usually I read essays and leave novels aside but this book was a cherished present and I read it in one go. Great.
Well, to my great disappointment hydrangea stands for dispassion, i.e. the state or quality of being unemotional or emotionally uninvolved but if you look at my picture you might actually accept this explanation in a positive way. The hydrangea dispassion and detachment is exactly what makes it beautiful and divine.
Victoria, Vanessa Diffenbaugh main character, finds out soon enough that the same flower can have quite different meanings and this reminds us of the arbitrary use of definitions. A hydrangea is a hydrangea is a hydrangea.

Simonetta Ronconi

The Flax

simonetta — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 17:07:10 +0000

My gift for the New Year, and precisely for the Winter Solstice which took place on the 22nd of December 2011, is a fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen: The Flax.
It is an amazing story with a profound meaning that will certainly inspire you.
My first magic encounter with the flax took place some years ago among the hills of Chantilly, France, of all places. I had never seen flax fields before in my life and all of sudden, while riding in a car on a hill top, my sight was inundated by a sea of fragile and delicate blue flowers stretching on several hills. An amazing emotion!
One day, not so long ago, I was looking for an image for or information on “il lino” the flax and I stumbled upon a lovely website with the story of the famous Danish author.

Enjoy your reading and Happy New Year!

Simonetta Ronconi

And if you feel like listening to the Italian version of this story, just click on the links below

Il lino – HC Andersen – narrated by Simonetta Ronconi Part 1

Il lino – HC Andersen – narrated by Simonetta Ronconi Part 2

Pearls

simonetta — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 20:52:21 +0000

Pearl strings and webs, I thought such things existed only in fairy tales books but last week I was glad to have my first close encounter with some of them. I was strolling in an old fortified city in The Netherlands, Heusden and for the first time in years the country was covered in the thickest fog I have ever seen. Saturday morning is usually quiet there but it was even quieter then. The old city was silent and it seemed almost empty. Those tiny water drops, nicely assembled on the spider webs, were trembling in the gentle wind; I feared they would fall apart any moment. It was difficult to part from them. I knew it is something you do seldom witness if you live a city. Their impermanence made them perfect, a gift for the lucky passersby. The coat of arms of Heusden is a wheel or a spinning wheel. I just adore to discover these “thin connecting threads” when I visit new places and weave my web of associations and meaningful surprises.

Simonetta Ronconi

Heavenly blue

simonetta — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 21:18:48 +0000

There is something mysterious about this stunning flower, the Ipomoea. Its twisting habit, its daily dance with the sun and the moon, has always captured my attention, wherever I happen to find it. It is so tender and yet so determined in its stern ritual, that Carl Linnaeus, the XVIII century botanist, included it in his Horologium Florae, the flower clock.
On a splendid island in the middle of the Adriatic sea I was offered a magnificent view. While walking in a tiny alley in the scorching sun of the early afternoon, just behind an unsuspected corner, I saw a huge and lush blanket of heavenly blue ipomoeas covering an abandoned backyard and cascading on the neighbors’ fence and gate. I was transfixed by their richness and I could not understand how such delicate flowers could stand that temperature and parade their beauty with such a superior attitude. The following days I would pass by just to marvel at its twisting in the evening and early in the morning.
What a lovely memory.

Simonetta Ronconi

Canaille

simonetta — Fri, 09 Sep 2011 21:59:56 +0000

Has anybody ever published a study on the influence of a specific language on the mind of a menu reader and on his or her taste buds? Probably the language influence is quite marginal, what counts is the meaning of the names of the various menu items, their descriptions and the images and associations it may create in the reader’s mind. Call me old fashioned but I am still fascinated by the French language when it comes to menus, not to mention desserts.
A couple of months ago I visited the charming city of Montpellier for the first time. It was a glorious sunny day and I could wear my sandals again. What a joy to feel the warmth of late springtime and play hide and seek in the shadows of the numerous little alleys and squares of that old and erudite city. It was time to sit somewhere and enjoy some fresh air to cool down and relax. The choices I had were many but I found myself all of a sudden in a blessed place: Place du Petit Scel, just in front of the elegant Church of Saint Anne, with a distant view of the plain and a divine breeze blowing upwards. The little square had a couple of great trees and lots of simple tables with big and white sun umbrellas. It was not pretentious and you could easily notice that many visitors found their way to those tables. I had no expectations but I could feel that it was not a mere touristic café. When the waiter brought me a menu, I slowly opened it and was instantly hit by a word: Valrhôna. – You might know that Valrhôna Cocoa is basically the Rolls Royce of the chocolate industry – I immediately upgraded Chez Canaille (great name) to the best ice cream salon in Montpellier. What happened afterwards had a lot to do with the French language, though. I was toast already but the enchantment of the ice cream names and their description took me in a different dimension. Please, try to read some of them in the context I have just painted and let me know if I am exaggerating when I say that it is pure poetry…

GLACES ET SORBETS
Maître Artisan Glacier

CARAMEL BEURRE SALE
au caramel, au beurre et au sel de Guérande
POMME CANNELLE
à la cannelle infusée avec des morceaux de pomme caramélisées
PISTACHE
à la pâte de pistache de Sicile avec éclats de pistache
THE VERTE A LA MENTHE
thé infusé et menthe douce
CHOCOLAT NOIR
au chocolat et au cacao Valrhôna
PAIN D’EPICES
au véritable pain d’épice d’Alsace
VANILLE
à la Vanille Bourbon et au beurre d’Echiré et aux oeufs
FAISSELLE AU PERLEE DE FRAMBOISE
glace à la véritable faisselle avec ajout de perlée et coulis de framboises

Enjoy!

Simonetta Ronconi

Elks in the city

simonetta — Fri, 09 Sep 2011 20:21:02 +0000

Amsterdam has a special way of spoiling her inhabitants: she presents you with an amazing variety of exquisite buildings that are so rich in details that you can keep on finding new ones each day you stroll in her streets. The same detail can also transform itself in the specific light of a specific day since the weather can change even seven times a day in this cheerful city (I personally counted these changes one day). You can choose to create your mental archive but a real picture is worth a thousand words. One day I discovered this lovely and enigmatic decoration in a street close to Elandsgracht, the Elk’s Canal. It was not the first time that I had such a pleasant surprise but this decoration was so strong and delicate at the same time that I had to stop and take a very good look at it. I could easily make a connection to the Elk’s Canal but the story behind that decoration was far more complex and it blended perfectly with many other details in the façade of this small workers’ house. For a moment I was almost going to ring at the door and ask the lucky owner or tenant of that house about its real meaning but I ended up taking a picture and musing on its secrets. Associating it with the Northern Europe mythology was also quite obvious and with that in mind I started a quick search online. The search engine magic led me to this page on Monica Sjöö’s website and to the following paragraph of an article taken from the book “The Norse Goddess” by Monica Sjöö:

Many arctic peoples believed that the Great female Bear constellation Ursa Major, that circles the pole star, was the point of entry to the Upper world. Some believed that Ursa Major is the Cosmic Elk cow with Ursa Minor as her calf, and that the Elk ran out of the Heavenly Taiga and carried off the Sun on one of her antlers. These beliefs are rooted in hunting societies of great age in Siberia and elsewhere. The Elk cow and the Bear Mother are embodiments of the great Arctic Mother of the animals who was also an Amazon and a great hunter. In later times she was called Artemis/Diana.

You may argue that this paragraph does not really explain the presence of that Lady in the center and all those elks. For the time being I would like to create my own version of the myth: The Arctic Mother accompanied by all her beautiful daughters disguised as elks.

Simonetta Ronconi

The blackberries’ Lady

simonetta — Mon, 29 Aug 2011 19:54:13 +0000

I had almost forgotten what it means to find yourself in a foreign Mediterranean city that shares aspects of your nation’s history, culture and tradition but with a completely different language, a language that you cannot even try to understand, no references whatsoever. You know that its inhabitants understand your way of thinking, your emotions, your reactions, still a thin and invisible veil hangs between you and them. I must admit that I enjoyed every moment of it since it gave me the possibility to relax and observe their behavior without being “disturbed” by the meaning of their dialogues.
It was with this mindset that I visited the lively and cheerful daily market of Split, the Dalmatian living museum. What an abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables, not to mention all their herbs and dry fruits! Their colors were dazzling in the sun and I could only smile imagining the sheer delight of being inspired by such a view as one of my daily rituals.
While strolling among the various stalls and listening to the sound of the enthusiastic conversations all around me, I came across a delicate scene: a beautiful old lady sitting in front of a tiny table displaying two buckets full of blackberries and cranberries. She had the sweetest expression I ever saw in an old lady, a mixture of humbleness, mirth and elegance. Her simple but gracious long skirt and blouse were old fashioned as if she belonged to the nineteenth century. She looked like a young girl, actually, with just a couple of wrinkles and wise light blue eyes. I had the impression she was there for the first time. Another old lady, sitting close to her, had a completely different look and attitude and it was as If she was instructing the blackberries’ lady on how to sell and pack her berries. It was also quite clear that the blackberries’ lady had found those fruits in the woods and that she was trying to raise some extra money to pay her bills. Maybe I have read too many fairytales in my life but she looked like one of those old ladies that appear all of a sudden in a specific place for a specific purpose only to disappear soon after, forever, without even telling their names.
After buying some of her divine berries I asked her if I could take some pictures, I had to. Her face lit up like a diamond in a mix of shyness and joy and she nodded her assent.
Out of respect I will only publish a picture of her “crown”, a crown fit for a Queen.

Simonetta Ronconi

A writer’s dream

simonetta — Fri, 26 Aug 2011 13:35:14 +0000

While walking in one of my favorite areas in North Holland, following a path leading to a lovely lighthouse, I discovered a brand new feature in a backyard garden: a writer’s dream.
Admiring that perfect setting for a desk, I smiled acknowledging the great sense of humor, harmony and space of the decorator. Who masterminded such an inspiring place? Maybe a girl just needed a place for her homework in the summer days or maybe her mum or dad wished to make a statement for the passersby or for the small community living on that peninsula.
One thing is certain: I will always remember that place whenever I feel like writing a story. It is like translating the concept of a blank page ready to be written in a landscape.

Simonetta Ronconi

Inspiration

simonetta — Thu, 17 Mar 2011 10:17:55 +0000

It is fascinating to discover how people get inspired and exactly by what and when. We are assaulted nowadays by information and pictures of any kind. Still there are images that elicit specific reactions in us, while other leave us indifferent. The moment I took this picture in Venice, at the Biennale, I was completely captivated by the lights, the colors and the interesting patterns they created on the floor and on the walls.
This space is supposed to contain works of art but it is a work of art in itself.
If I look at it now, I associate the colorful lights on the floor to my translation work, the semicircular shape on the wall to one of my voiceovers and the lozenge on the left to my recording software. The color combinations are spectacular and so whimsical. I could look for hours on end and follow the stream of associations and consciousness that my mind is able to produce.
Nature, art and architecture are a never-ending source of inspiration for me but two years ago I found a new, comfortable and mesmerizing source of wonder both in internet and in real life: ted.com – ideas worth spreading.
You might already be more than acquainted with ted.com but for those of you who have never heard of it, I warmly recommend you to visit this site and discover the wealth of information and “riveting talks by remarkable people, free to the world”. One of the latest talks that blew my mind was by Deb Roy: The birth of a word. I quote “MIT researcher Deb Roy wanted to understand how his infant son learned language — so he wired up his house with video cameras to catch every moment (with exceptions) of his son’s life, then parsed 90,000 hours of home video to watch “gaaaa” slowly turn into “water.” Astonishing, data-rich research with deep implications for how we learn”
What inspires you lately?

Simonetta Ronconi