Ekphrasis: Now, that is a big word for a Friday afternoon.
It comes to us from Ancient Greece, and relates to the idea of writing inspired by or about art or visual images. The ekphrastic tradition is more complex than that, but we come across it in its modern form all over the place in English Literature. Some of my favourites include the poems I Would Like to be a Dot in a Painting by Miro by Monica Alzi and Musee des Beaux Arts by WH Auden. But more on those at a later date!
At this point I have to confess that I'm not really claiming that my bad photo of the steps outside the British Library that inspired the previous blog post count as art, far from it:
But what I do want to do is build on last week's stimulus of 'Near and Far' by using images to inspire our writing, bending the rules of ekphrasis a little.
This weekend marks the Queen's Diamond Jubilee celebrations and our school is ablaze in a conflagration of red, white and blue. I would like you to take a photograph of something that captures the essence of this idea, from near or from afar. Post it on your blog, then use someone else's photograph to write your own piece. You can use any form you wish.
Think carefully about the detail as we were doing last week, but also think about the significance (or otherwise) of this momentus occasion: a historical event celebrated only once before - in the reign of Queen Victoria. Will you write from the point of view of the object - perhaps something that has seen great change over the past sixty years? Or consider what the next sixty might bring? Perhaps you will focus on this precise moment in history. Whatever you choose, you need to link your iconic image and your descriptive writing with a deeper thought. Please comment below when you have posted your photograph, and I'll look forward to choosing one to inspire my own piece of writing!
This blog is an attempt to extend creativity beyond the classroom, encouraging writing by providing challenging stimuli. The title of the blog is taken from a poem by Seamus Heaney, 'Personal Helicon', in which the poet explores some of his motivation for writing. I hope that by 'setting the darkness echoing' the followers of this blog will themselves shine.
Showing posts with label objects. Show all posts
Showing posts with label objects. Show all posts
Friday, 1 June 2012
Jubilant Ekphrasis
Labels:
art,
description,
ekphrasis,
imagery,
objects,
photographs
Monday, 28 May 2012
Steps: Up Close and Personal
So far we have attempted some flash fiction, as well as trying to answer some 'impossible questions'.
This week's challenge is to think about perspective.
Try and write a piece entitled 'Near and Far', focusing on a single object. Begin by describing your chosen object from very close up, noticing the minutest details and interpreting them for your reader. You could pick anything you like: an ordinary household item, an item with special significance for you, or a piece of rubbish blowing in the breeze in the street.
Then move a distance away and see how the perspective changes. Think carefully about the vocabulary and any imagery you use. You may wish to only reveal what the object actually is at the end.
I have chosen to write about the steps outside the British Library, simpy because I sat on them for a while at the weekend and had a chance to observe them closely. I am including only my 'near' description for now:
Cracks, like pencil marks in the stone, trace the journeys and paths of a million footsteps. The fine lines swirl and age with each passing pair of feet. Tiny particles of dust trapped in holes make smooth again the damaged surface forming a time-worn, careworn concrete canvas: mottled, stained and pock-marked. Ancient chewing gum blocks a tiny crevice, new mortar for an impromtu repair. A single green leaf has fallen, uninvited. An upturned polystyrene cup rolls to and fro, detritus of a passing civilisation.
Three black tramlines mark each edge, reminding life's passengers of the danger of these obstacles. The steps are deep and wide to accomodate all shapes and sizes: the internal and external weight of the climbing and descending multitude. My two feet can stand one in front of the other on each carved ledge.
What do you think of the description? Can you identify any ways that I have used language to create a particular effect?
This week's challenge is to think about perspective.
Try and write a piece entitled 'Near and Far', focusing on a single object. Begin by describing your chosen object from very close up, noticing the minutest details and interpreting them for your reader. You could pick anything you like: an ordinary household item, an item with special significance for you, or a piece of rubbish blowing in the breeze in the street.
Then move a distance away and see how the perspective changes. Think carefully about the vocabulary and any imagery you use. You may wish to only reveal what the object actually is at the end.
I have chosen to write about the steps outside the British Library, simpy because I sat on them for a while at the weekend and had a chance to observe them closely. I am including only my 'near' description for now:
Cracks, like pencil marks in the stone, trace the journeys and paths of a million footsteps. The fine lines swirl and age with each passing pair of feet. Tiny particles of dust trapped in holes make smooth again the damaged surface forming a time-worn, careworn concrete canvas: mottled, stained and pock-marked. Ancient chewing gum blocks a tiny crevice, new mortar for an impromtu repair. A single green leaf has fallen, uninvited. An upturned polystyrene cup rolls to and fro, detritus of a passing civilisation.
Three black tramlines mark each edge, reminding life's passengers of the danger of these obstacles. The steps are deep and wide to accomodate all shapes and sizes: the internal and external weight of the climbing and descending multitude. My two feet can stand one in front of the other on each carved ledge.
What do you think of the description? Can you identify any ways that I have used language to create a particular effect?
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