Voice lesson on detail
Choose a colour and describe a scene using at least three varieties of
that colour. Try to mix details of landscape and people. Share your
description with the class on the blog, and comment on at least one
other blog post (effects created through the use of detail,
effectiveness...). Due by Tuesday, November 28th (both your blog post
and your reaction to another post).
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThe fiery red in my comrade’s eyes reflected the pyre. His hands covered his face where I could see the bloody red coming out. His fury was so powerful that I could feel it in the air, his hate and disdain froze the air, not a word, not a move, not a breath, we were alone in this blue world, I could feel the redness of his rage.
ReplyDeleteReally liked the way you're contrasting your color as you make appear different shades of meaning through it...
DeleteThe contrast between the silent atmosphere and the strenght of rage is very cleverly revealed. Colin P
Her eyes were green as vivid as the meadow's grass when the sun was shining down upon it.
ReplyDeleteLife was bursting out of her jade green eyes. It was like a blooming of chrysanthemum, an explosive mix of tasty shades of green. She had a pendant with an emerald on it.
She was the most joyful person I've ever seen.
But who is she?
Is she a sort of mermaid emerging from the seaweeds, or a muse? Is she Thalia with her ivy crown?
All I know, is that her heart is as precious as an opal.
Shout out to my muse, Marie-Lou♡
I really like the different greens you used I think it really makes Marie Lou's mysterious personality come out ! 😁
DeleteI totally agree ♥️
DeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteMud on our faces, we just keep going. Last night was simply amazing, Hazel and I had just ran away on that bay horse ; his tawny mane in the wind, her auburn hair as well. When we had finally halted her mad chestnut eyes were back to normal, she needed that freedom to calm down. Captivated by that brunette, realizing how attached to her i had become, I didn’t notice that the gate I attached Chocolate to was rusty. She slept soundly, her head lying against my dusky chest. We were lying on the umber ground and I couldn’t help but stare at her perfect tanned skin. Around midnight, I noticed that the gate was on the ground and her horse gone. We have been looking for him ever since and he could be anywhere. But she has a feeling that he went home, looking for the comfort of his brown stable. Maybe we should to, maybe the horse wanted to tell us something: maybe home, with its brick walls and its coffee smell is where we belong.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
DeleteI love it ! All the references are very subtle, with "Chocolat" or "Hazel". Great job ! -Elise
DeleteThroughout my day I see all kinds of different greens
ReplyDeleteFrom the lime green in my fruity pebbles in the morning
To the emerald green dress the woman at the bus stop wears every Tuesday because she knows the bus driver she likes will look at her with his minty green eyes
From the pine green of the frogs on a rainy day singing their most beautiful tune in the Japanese garden
To the pistachio green eyes of the person I see everyday but who never sees me back
I think it's great but you forgot to put a period at the end! Your work never fully stops... I can really picture all the shades of green though!
DeleteI disagree with you Marie-Lou, maybe Juliet wanted to give this impression of never fully stopping, I kind of like it! And I loove the different shades of green that you used!
DeleteThe wind was whispering quietly in the leaves. Green was everywhere. The moss, the fungus and the trees, green flashes here and there, rays of emerald and carpets of light. Silence. Bird songs. He was standing, observing the spectacle, as he knew the forest better then anyone else. His face was brown and wrinkled, his eyes were electric green, his look was sharp. He was standing here, eyes opened in front of this vivid jade geode. Nature was colorful, nature was lively.
ReplyDeleteColin P
I can easily picture the scene you are describing: all the shades and the vitality of Nature. I also really like the peaceful atmosphere created by your short sentences.
Delete- Joséphine
I really enjoyed reading your piece ! I like how you picture this forest by appealing to the senses.
DeleteSometimes, I like going to the Promenade des Anglais, sit, and try to spot the color pink. Some are easy to spot : the soft pink of the sky, at dusk ; or the flashy one of the beach towels. Others are more subtle : the discret blushing of the girl when a boy flirts with her, and the coral pink of her nails when she nervously plays with her hair. But my favourite is the one I hear in the accent of the local people. The singing pink, flying away at the end of their words.
ReplyDelete-Elise
I really like the way you announce the color you're going to deal with from the beginning, but you still manage to create surprises in the way you use it. I found the last sentence very poetic. (Plus congratz for the synaesthesia at the end !).
Delete-Solène
I love your way of approaching the color ! The examples are very diverse and nicely detailed which is really enjoyable and even surprising !
DeleteShe was sitting there, embraced by the last golden rays of the day, simply looking at the gigantic fire orb going down. Her blonde hair was melting with the wind and her nose was tickled by smells as yellow as lemons. Next to her, the last hesitant honey flames of the campfire were wavering slowly. And just like this, she closed her eyes flying away like a canary delivered from its cage.
ReplyDelete-Solène
Wow ! I wish I was this girl ( except for the blond hair ). The atmosphere you created thanks to all these shades of yellow is so pure and captivating. You did a great job. Could you just explain me what is the deal with synaesthesia ? It looks like everybody is using it ! Anyway well done ! (bonus for the canari simile which stole my heart)
DeleteHéloïse
I really like your paragraph !!It reallly drew out my 5 senses !! Other than that..... Well .... I don't have anything else to stay......Wow ?
Delete💛
DeleteMy feet are rocking in the emptiness. Above the great sea of grass I'm clumsily aping the birds. Steam is coming out of my mouth, ghost-like white, so ephemeral. Cold is paralazing my fingers and toes, slowly and softly. I don't feel it at first, too absorbed by the contemplation of the impenetrable whiteness of the sky. Time just stopped for a moment and I'm here , floating in a iterative movement, only sign of life in this frozen garden . Winter is preparing his entrance, erasing all the colors and letting only a fading white setting alight the world. I tighten my grip on the ropes. On the ledge of the window my cat is peacefully sleeping, insensitive to the bitting cold in his precious arrogant white fur. My hands are turning white, a pale white encouraging me to finally put an end to my hypnotizing flight.My feet meet the ground again and my sleeping legs take a few seconds to recover. I walk home letting behind me my swing , shaky in this shy whiteness.
ReplyDeleteHéloïse
I really liked what you wrote : I think it is full of poetry, emotions and very detailed, Well done !
DeleteJacinthe
I really like your work, and I think white is one of the hardest colour to write about. it's so poetic, and the and unexepected.
DeleteCéline
I love what you wrote and totally agree on how poetic and intimate it feels. I find very interesting that you kept the similitudes between your character's personality and your color transient and tacit.
DeleteMarlène
I really like your description, it is very poetic and I love how you managed to make such a simple thing (the swing) into an epic thing!! The end was predictable though, considering I knew what you were talking about since the middle of the first line .......
DeleteWe were sitting on the beach ; the sun was waning on the horizon in a light crimson halo. The fire was spreading heat on our skin leaving a warm and sweet sensation. He was very close to me ; I was able to see the vermilion reflection of the flames into his eyes and the auburn color of his hair. Everything was quiet ; only his voice was whispering a lullaby in my ear. The moment was carmine : full of tender passion.
ReplyDeleteJacinthe
I like the atmosphere of the beach. You found beautiful terms to describe shades of red.
DeleteIt was a lush garden, full of fuscia flowers, blooming above, below and all around her eyesight. It was the same fuscia that colored her cheeks when she got complimented. She was lazily gazing at the tall magnolia, not yet realizing that its baby pink color was softly reflecting on her skin, giving it the glow of a goddess. She decided on a whim to lay down on the grass and took out lychees from the trees around. She absently brought it to her mouth, the peach colored fruit against the cherry blossom of her lips. Although, as an afterthought, she lets it fall on the ground and joins it there to peacefully rest.
ReplyDeleteThanks to Olessia for the inspiration. Who else for a pink goddess though?
I just love it! And I looove lychees!!😍 I really like the way you mixed the fruits' pink, with the flowers' one. I've just a question? Do I really have fuscia cheeks when I get complimented? That's awkward😅
DeleteI was running out of pink shades...
DeleteI still remember. The long walks with her,going everywhere - anywhere - as long as she would be alone. She walked among the lonely lanscapes, wishing but hating to be so much alike. I remember, she was the frozen green of the delicate yet brave blooms that had the firm intention to last the whole winter, even though none ever did. I remeber how she admired the green insouciance she lost and regretted. Maybe this is the reason why she never managed to save the hues on her lead-weighted paper, sitting in the frost. I remember the long walks among the dew that changed the opacity of snow into a paper-thin layer if diamond on the newlyborn children, hanging lightly but strongly from their branch. I remember she she watched with awe their determination, innocence, unaware of what is to come, ignoring that after the riping came the rotting. I remember she tried to find back this lost time too. I always did, but never told, even when she cried and pleaded me to let the memories flow. I never did. I remember when she threw a "I'm takin' a walk."at her parents and left, for hours, with me - alone. I would always try to drag her back home. She so rarely gave way. She just sat there, on the edge of the nearby channel, always waiting for something to happen ; but only a random bubble would barely ripple the flat surface of the water as an answer. So, I remember, she would just turned her head back at the grass invading the faded path behind her. She lied down and watched the blinding sun going down and emblazing the green quills, and her heart always crinkled at the dusk throwing flame arrows through the savage green of the soft grass and surrounding each blade with a golden halo. The fire always ran trough her chest, but she never felt the noney-soft light that blunted the pain. She asked me why, I never answered. I had a dozen reasons to give her, but I never spoke. It never stopped her from walking alone with me. I never understood how my mutism didn't infuriate her. She just kept walking, until she reached the the tip of that cliff, sat on the pontiest and highest rock, stared away. The copper leaves of the vines and azure of the sky never mattered to her. I remember she always watched the pine forests for hours. I remeber she had always found ironicalhow stoic they were. Their dark green remained unaltered by any notion of time, temperature or vital resources or anything else a living thing could die from. The wisdom and calm of each pine tree felt through the mass of dark stoic green. She loved that green, the hue of faith and stability. I remember she would grant me a second, offer me a resigned smile, and go back to her contemplations I could only glance at from time to time. Then she would stand up and walk back home. And leave believing I didn't notice her glance down at her feet. But I never told. I had a thousand things to say, but I never spoke.
ReplyDeleteWhat have I done to her ?
Marlène (who once again got carried away a little)
To my closest friend who became my worst ennemy.
I love how your piece is full of lovely colored details which embrace in a very touching way your piece and emphasize your words.
DeleteThe snow on the ground was sparkling so bright I was dazzled for a bit, but when I saw her waiting just outside the storm, I froze, not knowing if I was dreaming. Her lapis hair was covered in snow and her lips had turned into a light purplish blue hue because of the cold. The part she was standing in had nicer weather, with only a few light snowflakes falling. She was surrounded in icy tones from the snow-covered ground to the top of the trees. When she saw me, her lagoon tinted eyes brightened ad she began moving toward me, her midnight cloak floating around her. She stopped near the river bank, just under the frozen arctic blue waterfall. The iced river had now a greenish shade in its usual light blue hue. I could see all the way through to the bottom of the stream as I crossed it, and I was amazed about how many shades you could get from one colour. Just as I set foot on hard ground, she jumped in my arms. I finally realized I would be okay, and that she was really here. My sister.
ReplyDeleteCéline
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteI will always remember our encounter. He was standing there, facing the turquoise sea, wearing an old indigo jacket. He was admiring the peaceful sky before laying his eyes on me. His lips were purple and bruised because of the frozen winter breeze. He whispered something but I was so hypnotized by his beauty that it seemed unintelligible. He had such a penetrating gaze that I had the impression to sink, powerless, in his cobalt eyes. He looked so perfect, so flawless with his porcelaine skin revealing his baby blue veins that I had a weird impression : the impression of looking at someone unreal but yet alive. Was he an angel or a devil creature coming from the abyss of the ocean? I could not figure out...
ReplyDeleteYasmine
We were walking in this mysterious forest. Under our feet the amber and golden leaves were cracking. My eyes were attracted by a magnificent old tree. I was charmed by the ochre shades of its bark. The girl I was walking hand and hand with was walking with was wearing a nice terracotta coloured scarf. She was smiling and on her peach cheeks there were some enchanting freckles.
ReplyDeleteJilie
I really like the dark frenzy you create with your character and the mixed of golden colours, it makes an interesting contrast.
DeleteI will always remember this moment: the whole new greyish shade of the sky which I've never witnessed before; all those shadows dressing before my crying eyes; the rotten smell that filled my nostrils when i entered the room and, most of all, this gate which trancends human beings that separated me from my beloved yet absent grandpa. My mother's hand, trying to console me, the painful sweetness that envelopped my entire being at the time. The men that closed the hole with darkish mud, closing once and for all the small gap that contained my love, my fears, my happiness and most of all, my grandpa.
ReplyDeleteLisa (such a cheerful description though!)
So much emotions ! The colour you chose reflets extremely well the atmosphere dark and depressive you wanted to create ... Unless you wanted to create a cheerful atmosphere, in that case you suck...
DeleteHéloïse
I looked upon the public garden, and saw in the middle of the amount of mistietoe leaves a woman standing alone. She turned her emerald green eyes glittering with mischief on me. She was not smiling, at least not with her mouse. But deep down I knew her eyes were. She closed her evergreen jacket because of the wind and went down the alley, towards me without breaking eye contact. I could observe her in more details now that she was getting closer and closer,she wore jade's earrings and a small necklace. I felt deep admiration for this women, falling from nowhere. She looked at me one last time and smiled. Now the only thing I can remember of her is this light green piece of salad stuck between her teeth.
ReplyDeleteROMANE
I think your post is really good, you had a clever and aesthetic use of the different shades of green. The details of your post create an intimate and romantic atmosphere with this unknown woman coming towards the narrator and who seems to be beautiful and intimidating. Well... until the end of your passage, which is completly unexpected. It really made me laugh. LEA
DeleteI’ll never forget the shiny black of her long hair, and the deepness of her coffee eyes. Those eyes, so dark that staring too long at them seemed scary.
ReplyDeleteThere were our breakfasts at midnight, when the sky was jet-black and thick. All stars were gone, leaving us with our coal-black thoughts.
One afternoon we were sitting at my window. There were the dark grey of the ashes that fell from her cigarette and burned my sweater as she told me how happy she felt to be here, with me.
Some other times, there were the shadows dripping down her cheeks when she cried, when she screamed that she was alone. That nobody loved her.
I’ll always remember the obscurity of her eyes, darker than ever, when I told her it was over. We were over.
There were the black of the ink covering the postcard she sent me six years ago, ink stained with my salty tears as I re-read it. Realizing I’ve lost her. Realizing we were over.
Léa
A very powerful description conveyed through the use of many details and shades of black, I love how all these "memories" are linked together with one single color, it creates a melancholic and dramatic effect that make the emotion even more powerful.
DeleteOn the vast ocean of green grass meadows that covered the region; there were throning ponds lighting as green emeralds in this infinite. Reminding all these strange memories, the smells were grabbed by the bitter green seaweeds.
ReplyDeleteJoachim
wow ! very poetic ! I am amazed, you managed to create a painting in my mind.
DeleteColin M.
I remember my childhood in the USSR when the war was killing everybody and blood made the streets red ; like their flag ; all bright red, shining above our balcony.
ReplyDeleteMy uncle had a dark red scarf. He wore it all the year, even in summer. It was cold in Russia. Winters were long and freezing. We built fires in our house. The logs beamed in a faltering halo of vanishing red-orange.
Some warmth in the ice and the bombs.
Colin M.
What a brilliant atmosphere you create there with this "sanguine" tone. Congragulations! Best regards
DeleteI was standing on the porch of the house, dreamily observing the fields with their unbroken white blanket; marveling at the ivory expanse before me. The ghostly whites of last night's snowfall were gone, replaced by shining new shades of alabaster under the pale morning sun. Far away, the mountain peaks glistened in the cold air; and even the roof of my grandfather's house had donned the mandatory frost-white coat. And as I took in all these visions, I knew they would always stay in my head somewhere, etched in ice; untouched by the summer's heat.
ReplyDeleteFlorent
I love the atmosphere you created !
DeleteI saw the sky, meeting the sunlight, that erupted in an explosion of blazing reds, mixing with the clouds.
ReplyDeleteA red that reminded me her cheekbones, an ashamed red.
I smelled the blooms, poppies, of a sweet odor and a sweet red.
A red that reminded me her pulpy lips, that she was nibbling all day long which was making it full and sore red.
I felt the crippling cold on my palm while I was cuddling the cluster of flakes down my front door.
I looked on my soft skin that became red, a scarlet red, contrasting with the snow.
A red that reminded me the flow of blood, in the middle of the night, falling on the floor tile, a petrifying red.
- Mina
On the way to the nursing home, sun rays ran through through the trees covering the narrow road. A yellow sign with butter flowers leads us to the main entrance. Pots of daffodils frame th front door before the happy stickers ask you to disinfect your hands. i enter the dandelion hall with fake sunflowers in a central big vase; sign the vistors register; ask the room number and walk through the long pale corridors. When I get to her room, a little photograph of her with a bumblebee picture is sticked to her front door. I open it and find my grand-mother in her favourite butterscotch cardidan, sitted in front of the large window. A golden ray illuminates her old soft face and colored hair. On her beside table are multiple family pictures and a painting of shades from yellow to red that I made years ago. She's looking outside with empty eyes.
ReplyDeleteEvery day I dream of another world, full of life and colors; at the end of time, over a cherry blossom pink sea. Where a never ending sunset would create a salmon pink sky. Where my skin would turn a champagne pink under the reflecting light of the first few stars. Where my mimi pink pig would stand beside me, oinking softly. Where she would rest her head on my shoulder, with her china pink eyes and her amaranth robe. We would sit there, on the edge of time, a never ending dream, for a whole lifetime.
ReplyDeleteDorian