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Ekphrastic Poetry

Throughout history, artists and poets have used their work to challenge injustice, give voice to the oppressed, and inspire change. In this task, you will research and analyse two protest works — one visual artwork and one poem — that address a social, political, environmental, or cultural issue.

For each work, write a short analytical response (100 words each) that explores:

  • The context of the work: Who created it? What issue or event does it respond to?

  • The message of the work: What is the artist or poet protesting or advocating for?

  • The techniques used: How do visual or literary elements enhance the protest message?

  • The impact: How effective is the work as a form of protest?

One Nation Under CCTV.jpg

One Nation Under CCTV 
By Banksy

1. Identify the visual features.

2.  What colours are used? Why did the artist choose these colours?

3. List the verbal techniques used.

4.  Write a paragraph on the message the artist is portaying.  How do the          visual and verbal features add to contribute to this idea? 

For those of us who live at the shoreline

standing upon the constant edges of decision

crucial and alone

for those of us who cannot indulge

the passing dreams of choice

who love in doorways coming and going

in the hours between dawns

looking inward and outward

at once before and after

seeking a now that can breed

futures

like bread in our children’s mouths

so their dreams will not reflect

the death of ours;

 

For those of us

who were imprinted with fear

like a faint line in the center of our foreheads

learning to be afraid with our mother’s milk

for by this weapon

this illusion of some safety to be found

the heavy-footed hoped to silence us

For all of us

this instant and this triumph

We were never meant to survive.​

And when the sun rises we are afraid

it might not remain

when the sun sets we are afraid

it might not rise in the morning

when our stomachs are full we are afraid

of indigestion

when our stomachs are empty we are afraid

we may never eat again

when we are loved we are afraid

love will vanish

when we are alone we are afraid

love will never return

and when we speak we are afraid

our words will not be heard

nor welcomed

but when we are silent

we are still afraid

 

So it is better to speak

remembering

we were never meant to survive.

 

litany.jpg
hunger.jpg
fear-vs.-anxiety-2.jpg

Litany for Survival 
By Audre Lorde

      • They are kneeling upright on a flowered bed

                                 He

                                       has just caught her there

                                                                              and holds her still

                                      Her gown

                                                         has slipped down

                                                                                           off her shoulder

                            He has an urgent hunger

                                                               His dark head

                                                                               bends to hers

                                                                                               hungrily

                                  And the woman the woman

                                        turns her tangerine lips from his

                                                 one hand like the head of a dead swan

                                                       draped down over

                                                                                       his heavy neck

                                                             the fingers

                                                                  strangely crimped

                                                                                 tightly together

                                         her other arm doubled up

                                                                against her tight breast

                                              her hand a languid claw

                                                                               clutching his hand

                                                    which would turn her mouth

                                                                                                     to his

                                     her long dress made

                                                            of multicolored blossoms

                                                                      quilted on gold

                                        her Titian hair

                                                          with blue stars in it

                                           And his gold

                                                               harlequin robe

                                                                                 checkered with

                                                                                               dark squares

                                               Gold garlands

                                                                       stream down over

                                                                                             her bare calves &

                                                                                                    tensed feet

                              Nearby there must be

                                                       a jeweled tree

                                                                 with glass leaves aglitter

                                                                         in the gold air

                              It must be

                                                morning

                                                             in a faraway place somewhere

                              They

                                      are silent together

                                                                     as in a flowered field

                                           upon the summer couch

                                                                          which must be hers

                                  And he holds her still

                                                                         so passionately

                                               holds her head to his

                                                                         so gently so insistently

                                                 to make her turn

                                                                             her lips to his

                              Her eyes are closed

                                                                    like folded petals

                              She

                                       will not open

                                                                He

                                                                       is not the One

the Kiss.jpg

The Kiss
By Gustav Klimt

Short Story on a Painting of Gustav Klimt
By Lawrence Ferlinghetti

The Scream
By Edvard Munch

Edvard_Munch_-_The_Scream_-_Google_Art_Project.jpeg

1. Discuss the figure’s body language, positioning and expression. How do these visual elements help convey the central themes of the painting?

2. Which visual techniques do you think best help Munch depict psychological distress and existential fear?

Impact & Interpretation

3. Why do you think The Scream has become such an iconic image in modern culture? What aspects of the painting make it memorable or relatable today?

4. Art can be interpreted in many ways. Do you interpret The Scream as a literal depiction of fear, or something more symbolic? Justify your interpretation with reference to visual and contextual elements.

5. Explain how you anticipate or expect a poet to interpret the painting in an ekphrastic poem and why? What structural, sound or figurative elements will they emphasise?

Phan Thi Kim Phuc Fleeing By Nick Ut

War Poetry.jpeg

War Poetry By Kate Daniels

A naked child is running

along the path toward us,

her arms stretched out,

her mouth open,

the world turned to trash

behind her.

She is running from the smoke

and the soldiers, from the bodies

of her mother and little sister

thrown down into a ditch,

from the blown-up bamboo hut

from the melted pots and pans.

And she is also running from the gods

who have changed the sky to fire

and puddled the earth with skin and blood.

She is running--my god--to us,

10,000 miles away,

reading the caption

beneath her picture

in a weekly magazine.

All over the country

we're feeling sorry for her

and being appalled at the war

being fought in the other world.

She keeps on running, you know,

after the shutter of the camera

clicks. She's running to us.

For how can she know,

her feet beating a path

on another continent?

How can she know

what we really are?

From the distance, we look

so terribly human.

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