Our December Flash Contest was based on our weekly creativity prompt #130, a wonderful creative challenge issued by our Stone Soup intern, Anya Geist, asking you to make a piece of art inspired by a family tradition. Needless to say, given the time of year, we received lots of entries based on holidays, including Christmas, Chinese New Year, and Navratri, plus some regular family traditions that go on all the year round. As well as encountering a diverse range of traditions, we also received works of art in many, many styles and media: collage, drawing, oil on canvas, knitting, models made in paper and clay, paper cut outs and digital art. It was really exciting to see the range of materials and cultures represented in these stories from your families. Well done to everyone who entered, and thank you for bringing us so much holiday cheer! And thank you Anya, for a great seasonal prompt! In particular, we congratulate our Honorable Mentions and our Winners, whose work you can appreciate below. Winners Rangoli by Prisha Aswal, 8, Portland, OR Family of Pirates by Paris Andreou Hadjipavlou, 7, Nicosia, Cyprus Knitting up Memories by Audrey Hou, 11, Portland, OR Chinese New Year Windmill by Sophia Li, 9, Redwood City, CA A Paper Chinese New Year by Serena Lin, 10, Scarsdale, NY Honorable Mentions Chinese New Year by Yuxuan Jiang, 11, Portland, OR Secret Santa with my Sisters by Lucinda Mancini, 8, Glenside, PA Soaring in the Sky by Jessie Zhang, 9, Portland, OR Christmas Chaos by Joycelyn Zhang, 10, San Diego, CA Paper Art by Alexis Zou, 13, Lake Oswego, OR Prisha Aswal, 8Portland, OR Rangoli Prisha Aswal, 8 In our family, we celebrate a lot of traditions from all the cultures. One of my favorite festivals is Navratri, and during this festival we have a tradition of making Rangoli. Navratri occurs just before Diwali (the festival of Lights) and is celebrated to mark the victory of Good over Evil and Light over Darkness. A Rangoli is a colourful design, made on the floor near the entrance of the house, to welcome guests. Usually people make it with powder colors or colored chalks. It is usually made in a circle and then a pattern is repeated to complete the circle using bright colors. I love making Rangoli with my parents. For this project, I chose to make a Rangoli on canvas. Since Rangolis are usually round, I really wanted to use Earth as my design . It was not easy for me to make it perfectly, so I decided to go with an outline and chose red color to fill the land because red is the color of Love. I also put an oil lamp in the center as Light means knowledge and drives away darkness. I added Namaste, Hola, Bonjour, Ni Hao and Hello, to show that even though people speak different languages , their feelings are the same. Around my Earth, I used bright and colorful patterns and then colored the rest of the canvas in midnight blue to show the universe. Rangoli for Navratri by Prisha Aswal, 8, Portland, OR Paris Andreou Hadjipavlou, 7Nicosia, Cyprus Family of Pirates Paris Andreou Hadjipavlou, 7 Due to quarantine we have developed a family tradition of dress up. In this one we are dressing up as pirates, to hunt for treasure and explore the seas. . . Family of Pirates by Paris Andreou Hadjipavlou, 7, Nicosia, Cyprus Audrey Hou, 11Portland, OR Knitting up Memories Audrey Hou, 11 Knitting up Memories by Audrey Hou, 11, Portland, OR Sophia Li, 9Redwood City, CA Chinese New Year Windmill Sophia Li, 9 I made this for fun and gave it to my mom. It’s a Chinese New Year windmill that means good luck and health. I wrote thank you in Chinese on it and drew a dragon. Chinese New Year Windmill by Sophia Li, 9, Redwood City, CA Serena Lin, 10Scarsdale, NY A Paper Chinese New Year Serena Lin, 10, Scarsdale, NY My family is Chinese and we celebrate Chinese New Year every year. My artwork is made by hand with paper and clay, representing Chinese New Year. A Paper Chinese New Year by Serena Lin, 10, Scarsdale, NY
Writing Workshop #30: the Literary Vignette
An update from our thirtieth Writing Workshop! A summary of the workshop held on Saturday December 12, plus some of the output published below This week William presented on the idea of the vignette: a focused piece of writing, often in the midst of another longer, piece, but that is somewhat outside time or narrative. A vignette adds color or shape, but doesn’t necessarily move the story forward. After an introduction on the meaning of words (contrasting Humpty Dumpty declaring that words mean whatever he decides he wants them to mean with the codified wavelengths of colors, which simply are what they are), he showed some early photographs, pointing out that the photographic vignette is always presented in an oval: there is a focus on one thing, and no other context to distract. The Writing Challenge: Write a vignette: – a focused description of place – landscape, interior – or character – a focused look at a scene that implies a story The Participants: Charlotte K, Madeline, Lena A, Anya, Sophia, Georgia, Rachael, Lena D, Olivia, Peri, Tilly, Helen, Madeline S, Liam, James, Hera, Lina, Olivia, Janani, Margaret, Angela, Lucy K, Juniper, Samantha, Ava, Ma’ayan, Nami, Jonathan, Nova, Enni, Leah, Rithesh, Emi, Charlotte M, Emma. Anya Geist, 14Worcester, MA Ships in the Night Anya Geist, 14 Tick. Tick. Tick. The passing of mere seconds seemed eternal that night. The sea was dark and still; its waves rolled peacefully, quietly. On its surface, the only motion exhibited was the dainty reflection of stars on the water, which twinkled much like their counterparts in the sky; and the horizon seemed invisible; the sea and sky were the same on this night. The air was warm and salty, perfectly neutral, perfectly tranquil. Not a soul was heard. Tick. Tick. Tick. And then out of that endless depth of horizon came a monster. Cloaked in thick smoke it glided silently, stealthily across the water. You wouldn’t have known that behind its black walls was a hub of activity, men in sailor’s uniforms who pushed the mechanical beast along. Men who pored over maps, and scrutinized enemy war plans. Men who worked fluidly together to prepare their cannons to fire. Soon came another creature, another ship, similarly bloodthirsty, similarly silent, similarly hidden. But neither would be hidden for long. Neither would be hidden for long. Peri Gordon, 11Sherman Oaks, CA Stars Peri Gordon, 11 A star. A crystal, with a life of its own. White spikes gleaming, dancing, smiling in the sky. Teasing the moon, competing with the other nighttime jewels. Flashing silver, flashing gold. Brightening the sky for hours without tiring. Showing, disappearing, colorful, plain. Glimmering with life. Dappled with the colors of the rainbow, but transparent when you look right at it. Always changing, always morphing. Shining, glowing, ready for an adventure. Millions of these, twinkling, sparkling, winking at you. Dazzling us with flips and jumps and shimmers. Captivating; hypnotic; endless. Elizabeth Hwang, 10Great Neck, NY Becoming a True Hero Elizabeth Hwang, 10 Ruby was an 11 year old trained warrior. She had glossy red pinkish hair with beautiful soft, pure skin, and shining emerald eyes. One evening, she was lying down on her bed thinking about what she could do to be a better warrior. Then she heard her mother scream. She rushed over to her room and saw her intense, challenging master, a gigantic spider, who never backed down during a fight. He said, “Ruby, to show the true skills of being the next warrior and hero of our nation, you must capture the diamond of Everest and place it on the podium at the magical secret garden. This is found through the mystical white gates that will appear after you receive this powerful diamond to get your mother back. You will have three challenges. To pass the challenges, you must go against the giant sea serpent, retrieve the fang of the poisonous, purple spotted cheetah, and find the sacred golden leaf hidden in the village of Arcaria.” The giant spider opened up a secret portal. This was no ordinary portal. It had a purple swirling entrance with pink sparks coming from it. In the middle, was a little sphere that was the color emerald, just like her eyes. Once again, he said, “ You must take that little emerald and say, mission start. Once you say it, the timer is on and you must race to finish these challenges on time. When you go into this portal, the battlefield will appear and you must face these three creatures to receive the diamond of Everest. And one more thing, you have until tomorrow afternoon to retrieve the diamond. If you don’t make it, then your village will be in danger and your mother will not return.” “What!” Ruby exclaimed. “That’s not enough time! I’m just a child. I’m not ready yet. Why did you choose me when there are so many other warriors that are better!?” “Rules are rules, you cannot disobey them,” said her master. “There is no need to answer you now. If you pass, I will give you the answer you seek. If you don’t it will remain a secret. Let this be a little motivation for you. I will send you off with one more tip, look at things around you. They can help you survive. Now go.” Right when Ruby was going to argue to give a different warrior this mission. But she knew that he wouldn’t let that happen, so Ruby grabbed the little emerald sphere, and yelled, “Mission START!” Ruby ran to the portal as fast as she could hoping to not waste her time. She was starting to get a little nauseous from all the swirling from the portal. As she walked closer and closer, the colors seemed to change from purple, to blue, slowly to green, then yellow, to orange, and finally to red. Scared, a little dizzy but determined, she got her weapons ready to face her first creature, the giant sea
Writing Workshop #29: Rhythm, Phrasing, Cadence, & Narrative Arc
An update from our twenty-ninth Writing Workshop! A summary of the workshop held on Saturday November 21, plus some of the output published below This week William returned to talk about rhythm, phrasing and cadence in writing, with a focus on the impact of short sentences, and the relationships between music, painting, and writing. We read sections from Song of Hiawatha (Longfellow, 1855) for its rhythm, Moby Dick and A Tale of Two Cities for their defferent versions of extra-long sentences, aloud, thinking about they impact of these stylistic choices on the reader. We listened to some performances of evocative music such as Beethoven’s 5th Symphony (the short sentence of its “Da-da-da-da”) and Rimsky Korsakoff’s “Flight of the Bumblebee,” comparing and contrasting with more lyrical, flowing phrases. The Writing Challenge: Chose one of these three approaches to your piece of writing: – Short first sentence… – Start in the middle with long ranging stances that may be held together with the glue of dashes. Don’t be overly concerned with perfect grammar on this first pass. – Write in short sentences. Entirely or mostly. The Participants: Madeline, Helen, Liam, Keyang, Anna, Lucy, Samantha, Charlotte K, Anya, Jonathan, Tilly, Margaret, Olivia, Angela, Ava, Emma, Maddie, Enni, Ying, Analise, Nova, Rachael, Madeline S, Juniper, Janani, Lucy, Georgia, Elbert, Suman, Lena D, Sophie, Tegan, Peri, Lina K, Charlotte M, Nami. Araliya, 11Sandy Hook, CT The Statue Araliya, 11 I ran as fast as I could. Dashing through the thick brush. The moon followed. I heard loud footsteps behind me. I ran faster. Then I came across an abandoned building. I ran towards the building as a dark figure approached the clearing I had been at before. The dark figure looked around to see where I was. With no luck of finding me, it walked away. Once the dark figure left, I went to look around the abandoned building. I came across a statue of a raven. I looked into the ruby red eyes of the statue as though to be alive. As I walked away, I looked back to see that the raven statue was gone. I look around wondering where it could be because I know that it could not have just come alive and walk away, could it? I ran out of the building terrified. I ran back into the woods just to find the dark figure running towards me. I turn around and I run into the raven statue. I look back to find the dark figure and then it hit me. The dark figure was the raven statue. The dark figure was a shapeshifter. Lena D., 12Coarsegold, CA A Room, My Room Lena D., 12 The floorboards creaked as I entered the hallway. My bedroom door was open a crack, so I pushed my door back as I entered my dark room, the fan looming over me like dozens of eyes. I turned on my lamp which hadn’t been dusted in weeks The photos of my photo collage stared at me as I remembered when I took those photos. Me when I was eleven, with my brother on the day before Easter. A photo of my grandparents’ cat. All of those memories enveloped me like a blanket that secured around me. The sun shined in my eyes as I closed them, wondering what it would be like when I grew up. I leaned against the cold wall against my bedroom and wished that this pandemic would stop. Underneath the photos, there lay a cardboard shelf, which I hadn’t put anything in there in days My desk, which I got when I was ten, had a bunch of stuff on it. Christmas cards for my friends Sketchbooks for me to draw on. A photo frame with pink fabric that had a rainbow embroidered onto it. On the left there lay a turtle lamp, which my grandmother gave to me. On the right, there lay a can of my pens that I hadn’t used that much. Next to my bedside table, there lay a bookcase, which I turned into a dresser. I bought a mirror with my own allowance, and beneath there lay my hairbrush. Dust. Nothing but dust. Clouds came into the distance, pouring sudden raindrops as I looked out my window, listening to music with my headphones plugged into my ears. Not a noise. I took my headphones out of my ears to hear loud birds chirping in the distance as I crawled under the blankets to hear my dog barking, at a package that just arrived. Peri Gordon, 11Sherman Oaks, CA Uncontrollable Peri Gordon, 11 It would only spread. It was huge. It was larger than any other that I’d seen, even on television. It was picking up speed faster than I could bear, faster than anyone could control. It ravaged buildings, which couldn’t control their stillness. It murdered people, who couldn’t control their small size. Orange, red, yellow, who knew? It was all those things that we are not. We are not powerful, or unstoppable, or undefeatable. The fire was still picking up speed. I ran. My friends ran. My family ran. We all ran. We didn’t know where, or why, or how. We were weak. We were tired. The fire was angry, punishing. Why? I didn’t know the answer. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to save anyone. I couldn’t bring my home with me. I hoped to bring my friends with me, my family with me. Because I understood something. The fire wasn’t controllable. But neither were we. Enni Harlan, 14Los Angeles, CA Cunning Enni Harlan, 14 The sea is dark. The sky is darker. The waves are murky. The air is clear. The floor is shaking, this way and that, jerked around like a kite in a storm. I cannot see my feet, and yet I feel them trembling, planted on the moving deck. Waves crash against the scarlet hull–at least I know it was scarlet in daytime. At night, where we stand, the
