This+Painting+Tells+a+Story

=The image:=

=Student Example:=

**7.1 Emily Easterling**
[[#x--I run. It’s the only thing I can think of to do after looking into the room, seeing him laying there. He was pale, sweat beaded on his face. His chest was scarcely rising underneath the quilt. Mother was perched beside him, wiping his forehead with a damp cloth. When she saw me, she stood up, set the basin of water on the nightstand, and crossed the room all in a series of quick, fluid motions. She quickly embraced me, then turned me so I wasn’t looking into the room and closed the door. She put her hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “Annie,” she said, that one simple word capturing all the emotions swirling around inside of her- pity, hurt, fear, loss, and many more. “Annie,” she repeated, softer this time. I stood stock still, my face an impassive mask. She wrapped her arms around my neck, leaning into me. I gingerly put my arms around her frail frame. She started sobbing into my shoulder, her body rocking with the force of them. Her tears soaked into the arm of my flour sack dress. I gently pried her off me, now putting my hands on her shoulders and looking her in the eye, I say “It will be alright, Mother. We will make it.” She nods and wordlessly turns and heads back into the room. I want to cry, scream, yell, curse the world, but I know she needs me to be there for her. She would never actually say it, but she is depending on me, her last child, to be strong. I start to head down the stairs, slowly, painstakingly, consumed in my fear of losing him, when I hear it. It startles me, causing me to crash back to earth. Then I know what that sudden, piercing, gut-wrenching wail means. I take off down the staircase, burst through the front door, and run until I can’t take another breath. I collapse in the dried grasses, gasping for breath, sobs wracking through my body. I want to go back into the house, through the shabby interior, up the creaking staircase, and into the room. I want the comfort her. But I can’t face it. Not now. Not ever. I curl into a ball, knowing he is gone. My rock. And I know, even though I don’t want to believe it, my father, along with the rest of my siblings, is dead.]] I run . It’s the only thing I can think of to do after looking into the room, seeing him laying there. He was pale, sweat beaded on his face. His chest was scarcely rising underneath the quilt. Mother was perched beside him, wiping his forehead with a damp cloth. When she saw me, she stood up, set the basin of water on the nightstand, and crossed the room all in a series of quick, fluid motions. She quickly embraced me, then turned me so I wasn’t looking into the room and closed the door. She put her hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “Annie,” she said, that one simple word capturing all the emotions swirling around inside of her- pity, hurt, fear, loss, and many more. “Annie,” she repeated, softer this time. I stood stock still, my face an impassive mask. She wrapped her arms around my neck, leaning into me. I gingerly put my arms around her frail frame. She started sobbing into my shoulder, her body rocking with the force of them. Her tears soaked into the arm of my flour sack dress. I gently pried her off me, now putting my hands on her shoulders and looking her in the eye, I say “It will be alright, Mother. We will make it.” She nods and wordlessly turns and heads back into the room. I want to cry, scream, yell, curse the world, but I know she needs me to be there for her. She would never actually say it, but she is depending on me, her last child, to be strong. I start to head down the stairs, slowly, painstakingly, consumed in my fear of losing him, when I hear it. It startles me, causing me to crash back to earth. Then I know what that sudden, piercing, gut-wrenching wail means. I take off down the staircase, burst through the front door, and run until I can’t take another breath. I collapse in the dried grasses, gasping for breath, sobs wracking through my body. I want to go back into the house, through the shabby interior, up the creaking staircase, and into the room. I want the comfort her. But I can’t face it. Not now. Not ever. I curl into a ball, knowing he is gone. //My// rock. And I know, even though I don’t want to believe it, my father, along with the rest of my siblings, is dead. The Story Behind the Painting:

=
**From Wikipedia:** Christina's World is the most famous work by American painter Andrew Wyeth, and one of the best-known American paintings of the 20th century. Painted in 1948, this tempera work is displayed at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. It depicts Christina Olson, who had an undiagnosed muscular deterioration that paralyzed her lower body—likely Charcot-Marie-Tooth Disease[1]—dragging herself across the ground to pick vegetables from her garden. She is the subject of a number of other paintings by Wyeth (many including Christina's brother). Surprisingly, although Christina is the artistic subject of this, Wyeth's masterpiece, she was not the model -- Wyeth's wife Betsy instead posed for the painting.[2] The house in Cushing, Maine, where Wyeth had been staying when he saw the scene that inspired the painting, still stands, although Wyeth took artistic license in its depiction, separating the barn from the house and changing the lay of the land. Known as the Olson house, it is on the National Register of Historic Places. ** From the Museum of Modern Art: Andrew Wyeth. (American, born 1917). Christina's World. 1948. Tempera on gessoed panel, 32 1/4 x 47 3/4" (81.9 x 121.3 cm). Purchase ** The woman crawling through the tawny grass was the artist's neighbor in Maine, who, crippled by polio, "was limited physically but by no means spiritually." Wyeth further explained, "The challenge to me was to do justice to her extraordinary conquest of a life which most people would consider hopeless." He recorded the arid landscape, rural house, and shacks with great detail, painting minute blades of grass, individual strands of hair, and nuances of light and shadow. In this style of painting, known as magic realism, everyday scenes are imbued with poetic mystery. ===== Some Student Comments:  =7.1 Emily Easterling= I like how you decribed everything with emotion and thickened the plot to make it seem like the prolog of a book. || 7.2peary Good Job! I loved this peice. All of the decreptive words and a solid but very interesting plot that made me want to continue reading it. I also loved to drama between the charactors and i especialy loved when you said"It will be alright, Mother. We will make it.” That just really made me want to read more! Do you mind continuing the story for me. One again, Good Job!!! || 7.2paige Good job Emily, yours was by far the most book like. And i like that! I really liked the ending! Who was exactly in the bed dieing? What a great piece of work you've posted Emily! Keep up the fasntabulous work! :) || 7.2delaney  Emily, i love how much detail yours has. I also love how you emphasized the important things, like I run, and is dead. One line that I realy loved was " I gingerly put my arms around her frail frame." once again good job Emily! || 7.2madeline  Emily! You should be a writer when you grow up!! Its amazing!! My favorite part is-"I run. It’s the only thing I can think of to do after looking into the room, seeing him laying there. He was pale, sweat beaded on his face. His chest was scarcely rising underneath the quilt." I love how you Made the first 2 words in bold! LOVE IT!!!!!! See ya chica!! :0, :) || 7.2hannah Emily I really liked your story.You had so much details. I also liked how you made the first two words and the last two words capitalised.My favorite part of the story was "I gently pried her off of me".Good job. || 7.1abigail  I LOVE your story, you did an amazing job! I liked how you used such discriptive languge, like when instead of you saying she sat, you said she was perched. My favorite quote is "His chest was scarcly rising underneath the quilt. Mother was perched beside him, wiping his forhead with a damp cloth. She stood up, set the basin of water on the nightstand, and crossed the room all in a series of quick, fluid motions." You can really imagine this. Great Job! || 7.1harrison  Emily I have one word to describe this story. amazing!!!! i really like all of the descriptive words but my favorite quote was "I pried her off of me". || 7.1christopher I liked this story alout. very good detail and I liked the phrases that really gave a feeling to the story such as, "It will be alright, Mother. We will make it.” || 7.1thomas Great job Emily! I had a good time reading your story and you made it very interesting. I liked how you described the situation about Annie's family. ||
 * [[image:http://www.wikispaces.com/i/user_none_lg.jpg width="48" height="48" caption="7.3nick" link="http://www.wikispaces.com/user/view/7.3nick"]] || 7.3nick
 * [[image:http://www.wikispaces.com/i/user_none_lg.jpg width="48" height="48" caption="7.3nick" link="http://www.wikispaces.com/user/view/7.3nick"]] || 7.3nick
 * [[image:http://www.wikispaces.com/i/user_none_lg.jpg width="48" height="48" caption="7.2peary" link="http://www.wikispaces.com/user/view/7.2peary"]] || **re: 7.1 Emily Easterling**
 * [[image:http://www.wikispaces.com/user/pic/1284643722/7.2paige-lg.jpg width="48" height="48" caption="7.2paige" link="http://www.wikispaces.com/user/view/7.2paige"]] || **re: 7.1 Emily Easterling**
 * [[image:http://www.wikispaces.com/i/user_none_lg.jpg width="48" height="48" caption="7.2delaney" link="http://www.wikispaces.com/user/view/7.2delaney"]] || **re: 7.1 Emily Easterling**
 * [[image:http://www.wikispaces.com/user/pic/1284643403/7.2madeline-lg.jpg width="48" height="48" caption="7.2madeline" link="http://www.wikispaces.com/user/view/7.2madeline"]] || **re: 7.1 Emily Easterling**
 * [[image:http://www.wikispaces.com/i/user_none_lg.jpg width="48" height="48" caption="7.2hannah" link="http://www.wikispaces.com/user/view/7.2hannah"]] || **re: 7.1 Emily Easterling**
 * [[image:http://www.wikispaces.com/i/user_none_lg.jpg width="48" height="48" caption="7.1abigail" link="http://www.wikispaces.com/user/view/7.1abigail"]] || **re: 7.1 Emily Easterling**
 * [[image:http://www.wikispaces.com/i/user_none_lg.jpg width="48" height="48" caption="7.1harrison" link="http://www.wikispaces.com/user/view/7.1harrison"]] || **re: 7.1 Emily Easterling**
 * [[image:http://www.wikispaces.com/user/pic/1284652121/7.1christopher-lg.jpg width="48" height="48" caption="7.1christopher" link="http://www.wikispaces.com/user/view/7.1christopher"]] || **re: 7.1 Emily Easterling**
 * [[image:http://www.wikispaces.com/i/user_none_lg.jpg width="48" height="48" caption="7.1thomas" link="http://www.wikispaces.com/user/view/7.1thomas"]] || **re: 7.1 Emily Easterling**