Author Archives: Robert Delahanty
Ron Wayne Chant tells the story of “Now I only see her when it rains”
Ron Chant, whom you may remember from this photo series awhile back, was in a music video that I shot this last spring. Ron writes his own a capella songs and is full of stories, many of which were in the footage of him that I took. Going back through it after the video was done, I realized how great Ron’s material was, but the sound was pretty rough. So we got together again recently and shot more footage of him singing and telling stories. I pretty much just turned on the camera and let it roll. In an hour and a half, we covered 18 songs and several stories. This short piece is about the inspiration for his song “I only see her when it rains.”
Rt. 12 Part II
Travelling along Rt. 12 from Portland to Missoula
[click on each image for full size]
Route 12 PART 1
Travelling along Rt.12 on my way from Portland to Missoula
I shoot, I think, I got nothing, I wish, (why didn’t I?), you edit, you look, you revisit, you are pleasantly surprised, that’s when you need to trust the process.
[click images for full size]
Happy Face II
[CLICK IMAGES FOR FULL SIZE]
Words by Anonymous
If only we could see ourselves through the eyes of those who love us. Or better yet, through the eyes of God.
Happy Face
Photographs: Robert Delahanty Words: Bobby Pinkham
Clouds. Swirling. Blue. Today. So great. I do it for you. When I lean in. When I lean out.
Now I look mean. “Look out, motherfucker. Look out!”
Your head on my shoulder. Show me love. Show me old. Show me young. At heart. A work of art. I said happy now.
We’re winning the race. We’re in the right place. Show me happy. Show me your happy face.
Meet Ron Chant
100ft off the ground hung a man in a tree wielding a chain saw. He wore a hardhat and spiked boots, and it appeared he climbed up there on his own accord.
I knew I needed to photograph this guy.
He obliged and invited me along on his next big project, “The Black Locust.”
What I discovered is a truly great man.
Ron Chant is 71 years old, and he continues to do a job in his 70s that most retire from in their 40s. He’s an arborist, artist, and a songwriter with an incredible constitution and passion for his work and his art.
One day last summer I received a package in the mail. Enclosed was a cassette tape of Ron’s songs sung a cappella, along with a letter that read, “I’ve always had the feeling that somehow, some way, these songs were meant to be heard by somebody besides me. And the way you popped into my life has really got me wondering.”
Below are two of his songs, and a sampling of the photographs I took of Ron. Continue reading
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