Introduction to this Stone Soup Writing Activity This is a story about an afternoon when two people go to the same place, the woods, and do different things—a girl plays while her father paints. They are together, but they are not working, doing, or thinking the same things. This is also a story about a place. It is the story of the woods, its history long ago when it was a farm, and its current history when many different types of people come to use it, some for the quiet pleasure of being outdoors, others to cut firewood, others to dump trash. Project: Two People Who Are Together but Doing Different Things The father paints and his daughter plays. Write a scene or a complete story in which two people are together but each person is doing or thinking something different. Think of several situations before you start writing. For example, on a car trip one back-seat passenger might be looking out the window watching the scenery and thinking while the other plays with toys. Or two people might be in a room, one watching television while the other writes a story. Both characters are “quiet” in the same place, neither is talking, and they are engaged in very different activities and are, for the moment, worlds apart. In opera, there are often duets in which two singers are singing at the same time, but each singing their own thoughts. When writing about two people who act independently of each other but share the same scene, you might borrow an idea from Vanessa Beach, author of “What Will Happen to These Woods?” From time-to-time Vanessa brings her characters together. The daughter makes contact with her father, either by talking to him or by looking at him and thinking about what he is doing. This occasional contact between the characters gives the story its overall structure and at the same time offers insights into the characters’ personalities. Note, for example, the interchange between the girl and her father over the spider. What will Happen to these Woods? By Vanessa E. Beach, 11, Jackson, New Jersey Illustrated by the author From the September/October 1985 issue of Stone Soup Today I’m going off with my father. His hobby is painting, and sometimes he hops in the car with all his tools and goes off to the middle of nowhere and paints. Today he offered to take me with him. As we were driving along in the car, on this old dirt road, we suddenly bounced up in the air. “Look!” my father exclaimed. “Somebody has been along here with a bulldozer and ripped all these trees out. Now it really looks horrendous!” Silently, I agreed. I usually enjoy going off in the woods because everything is serene and beautiful. Now, I thought to myself, nothing will ever be the same in these woods. The car stopped. I got out and walked along a path. Suddenly a huge, fallen-down tree loomed in front of me. It looked very old, since all the bark had fallen off, and it was very smooth and gray colored. Vines covered the end that was lying on the ground. “Hey, Stu,” I yelled (Stu is what we all call my father). “What?” “Are these leaves poison ivy?” “No.” “Good!” I said and climbed onto the tree. I walked all the way up to the top. On the way I noticed a pile of sawdust and brushed it away. Sitting on the top where the tree had been broken, I saw that the limbs had been sawed off. “Somebody’s been getting a lot of firewood,” my father observed, coming over to the tree. “Yep! Somebody built a fireplace, too,” I said, pointing to a circle of cinder blocks, with ashes in the middle. “Uh huh. Did you know there used to be a farm here?” “No.” “Well, there was. Kept horses, too. And that tree you’re sitting on was brought here by someone. It’s a sycamore, and they aren’t native to the woods around here.” “I nodded and he walked off with his sketching board under his arm. “What are you painting?” I shouted after him. “Grapevines.” He must be working on leaf patterns again, I thought. I slipped down off the sycamore and onto the ground beside the fireplace. I followed two tire tracks. A car or truck had been here recently, and the tires had pressed down the tall grass blades. I passed a place where, inside a grove of young trees, there was a heap of junk. I stopped and looked at it. It was ugly; old tin cans rusted, parts of a mattress scattered around, worn tires, old scraps of things people hadn’t wanted. Someone had actually come all the way out here to dump their trash? Actually going out of their way to ruin a once beautiful and clean spot? I walked on. Field daisies bloomed all around me, and bright yellow dandelions too. The fresh spring grasses parted before my feet. Soon the fire tracks ended, and a narrow path took their place. I passed my father, sitting in front of a mass of vines yelling at a bee who was distracting him. I looked around me again. The field daisies had disappeared, and tiny white flowers bloomed in their stead. Darker shades of grass rose up to my knees and swished as I walked. I began to run. The path divided, but I stayed on the one I’d been traveling on. Tall green milkweed plants stood there like soldiers guarding a queen’s courtyard. Leafy little bushes grew like dwarves in a helter-skelter manner. I stopped running. The path went on into a cluster of trees. Beyond them it seemed like there was a clearing, and I could see the tops of higher trees farther away. I wanted to go on but didn’t. Something held me back, or maybe I was afraid of what I might find ahead. I stood there for a minute, then turned
Teaching Children
Art Activity: Making pictures of your community, with ‘Local Houses’, by Khaled Abdulaziz Ateeg, 12
Introduction to this Stone Soup Art Activity This city in Yemen, Saana, is similar in architecture with the painting, below, of a town in Saudi Arabia. This photograph is of Sanaa, the capital of Yemen. The buildings are made of brick or mud brick with white decorations made of white paint. This architecture is similar to that depicted in the painting of Al Aflaj, Saudi Arabia made by Khaled Abdulaziz Ateeg, 12. Khaled’s painting was made in the 1970s. Judging by images that I find online I think that this is not what the Al Aflaj looks like today. In the painting, the town is still a city of traditional buildings. They will have been smaller than the ones you see in the photograph of Sanaa. And they will have been of adobe–of mud bricks. What is remarkable about Khaled’s painting is that the architectural style is clear–and at the same time he has had the courage of an artist to present the town as richly colored. Realistic. But also imaginative. Project: Make pictures of the part of town where you live, and pictures of the part of town where you shop. Include in each drawing the important details that make your community recognizably unique. Some of these details are the different shapes of the buildings, the spaces between the buildings, and the patterns the windows make. Also important might be the type and placement of trees and gardens, telephone poles, street signs, advertisements, traffic lights, street lamps and parked cars. Notice in the drawing of Al Aflaj the distinct shape of the minaret tower. If your town has a church or other distinctively shaped building or landmark you might want to include it in your drawing. You don’t have to finish your work in one day. In fact, you probably can’t. So take your time to make a picture you can be very proud of. Like Khaled, allow yourself to be free of the constraints of your community’s real colors. Saudi Arabia is a very hot place. If Aflaj had painted the buildings their authentic brown color the image would have looked drab. What the color achieves is giving the place a sense of brightness–and a desert town is bright even if it is brown. The colors also make the town look welcoming which a brown town might not have seemed. In other words, Khaled used color that wasn’t really there to convey impressions and feelings that he felt looking at his town. As you think of your own town, think of how you might change how it actually looks to get at a deeper feeling about how it looks or feels to you, that is then conveyed to the people looking at your picture. From the January/February 1985 issue of Stone Soup Local Houses, by Khaled Abdulaziz Ateeg, 12, Saudi Arabia
Art Activity: expressing and recording feelings, with ‘Spring’, by Myra Nicolaou, 8
Introduction to this Stone Soup Art Activity In a way, the new year really starts with spring. Spring is the time for planting the garden and cleaning house. It is the time when trees get new leaves and when you can play outdoors well into the evening. It is the season when cycles begin again. Plants come out of dormancy, fruit trees flower, butterflies and bees are out in force, and the fruits for later in summer begin growing. It is is a time of promise. This picture of spring is a painting by a seven-year-old from the island of Cyprus. Look at this picture. The tree, flowers, sheep, and vivid colors all crowded together recreate one of those important spring feelings—the feeling of bright fresh air, wonderful days bursting with new life. I’ve chosen this image by a young child because, in its exuberance, it has many aspects of abstract art. This is Spring as a riot of color. As a feeling of bursting. As energy. Project: Make a Picture That Records a Personal Feeling of Spring Close your eyes and make yourself feel the way you do on a warm spring day. When you have this feeling in mind, use your imagination to find an image out of your own life that matches this feeling. Maybe in your imagination you see a ball game, or you and your family working together in the garden, or birds in the branches of a tree, or something you saw in a park. Perhaps, like Myra, who painted this picture, your sense of spring is a fruit tree in bloom with bees and butterflies flying about. Your goal is to bring to life the smell and feeling of Spring using images out of your imagination that are based on things you have seen with your own eyes in the real world. Take from the style you find in this picture by a young a child the confidence of the young child — which is the confidence of the artist. Be bold. Take risks. Embrace color. From the May/June 1985 issue of Stone Soup Spring, by Myra Nicolaou, 8, Cyprus
