The Michaelmas term saw the launch of the Art Department’s first ‘Literacy in Art’ competition.
Competition: ‘Literacy in Art’
The purpose of the competition is to engage pupils’ imagination through storytelling inspired by a piece of artwork. The first competition tasked pupils to draft a fictional piece of prose of no more than 300 words based on the painting The Magpie by Claude Monet. We were incredibly impressed by the quality of entries received from pupils of all ages across the School community.
Congratulations to Zahra, LVI for her winning piece, which sensitively articulated her interpretation of the scene.
First : Zahra, LVI
Second: Allegra, Form III
Third: Liv, Form I
Highly Commended: Annabelle and Mima, Form I and Matilda, Sushi and Victoire, Form II
Thank you to MJ our LVI Art Prefect, for her promotion of the competition. The competition will run every half term throughout the academic year.
The Magpie by Zahra, LVI
Time became both permanent and fleeting under the magpie’s watchful eye.
Stillness had blossomed across the brittle air and ivory clouds, subjecting even the tallest tree to a halt. Only the sun and its shadows could slice away the melting days, and only the magpie and his wings could pierce through the fragile air.
Everything became a rehearsed movement. Twigs twitched under gusts of crisp winds; footprints sunk further into sheets of white snow; snowflakes dusted cobbled roofs and winds whistled to the melody of the magpie’s morning chirps that echoed from the night before, and the night before that- until the nights bled into a nightmare veiled in white.
Armoured with obsidian and teal feathers, the magpie dreamt of slicing through the tender air. What a magnificent sight that would be: a single bird, wings outstretched in a war-cry against the gods that cried in silver snow, soaring past chimneys that sprouted murky ash and away from the barricades of wood. What would he find above the pale clouds? Perhaps a string of stars strung across the midnight blue abyss. Or would heaven’s castles be dipped in golden ichor, guarded by a kingdom of knights that sprinkled snowflakes on mortal grounds?
But as long as the magpie pledged to be the eyes of the white-coated valley, passing days would remain like a bitter-aftertaste for tomorrow.
Westward-bound winds strung along specks of snow. It breezed past, skimming against the rows of nimble trees that shook at its strength. Everything became still again. Everything became quiet.
And in that quietness sprouted a promise: time will soon bend under the magpie’s watchful eye, and the veil of nightmares will be lifted.
All he had to do was fly.
