EDI: ART and WRITING 1

Hi guys!!!
These are the stories you wrote and role played based on a painting.
Task: choose one, different from yours, and change the end, or add a character, or change the course of events. Above all, ENJOY working with your classmates' stories!!!

* By: Gabi, Andrea and Fiorela. Based on Dali's Woman with a Head of Roses.

Anastasia enters the room, plays *THE BEST OF VIVALDI* opens ALL the curtains and starts painting while Stacy is standing covered by a white curtain. A letter is pulled under the door. Anastasia picks it and starts talking.

    “Oh, there’s a letter. It has been ages since the last time I received a letter.”

When she opens it, Anastasia realizing who is the sender of the letter stands with her back to the audience. Jeremy enters, put the white curtain away and starts saying the words of the letter.

Dear Stacy;

Hello, it's me. I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet to go over everything. They say that time's supposed to heal ya but I ain't done much healing. Hello, can you hear me? I'm in California dreaming about who we used to be, when we were younger and free. I've forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet. There's such a difference between us and a million miles. Hello from the other side. I must've called a thousand times to tell you I'm sorry for everything that I've done but when I call you never seem to be home. Hello from the outside at least I can say that I've tried to tell you I'm sorry, for breaking your heart. But it don't matter, it clearly doesn't tear you apart anymore. Hello, how are you? It's so typical of me to talk about myself I'm sorry, I hope that you're well.

Yours sincerely,

Jeremy.

Jeremy stands at the back of the scene and the three of them stay a few seconds forming the painting “Women with the Head of Roses” and the mush up Love me like you do - Sorry - Somebody that I used to know begins.

• (Music) Anastacia Stacy Jeremy

You're the light, you're the night

You're the color of my blood

You're the cure, you're the pain

You're the only thing I wanna touch

Never knew that it could mean so much, so much

You're the fear, I don't care

'Cause I've never been so high

Follow me to the dark

Let me take you past our satellites

You can see the world you brought to life, to life

You gotta go and get

Angry at my all of my honesty

You know I try but I don't do too well with apologies

I hope I don't run out of Time could someone call the referee

Cause I Just need one more shot at forgiveness

I know you know that I

made those mistakes maybe once or twice

And by once or twice I Mean

maybe a couple a hundred times

So let me oh let me

Redeem oh redeem oh myself tonight

Cus I just need one more shot at second chances

Is it too late now to say sorry

cause I'm missing more than just your body

Is it too late now to say sorry

Yeah I know that I let you down

Is it too late to say I'm sorry now

I'm sorry, Yeah, sorry, sorry

Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over

But had me believing

it was always something that I'd done

But I don't wanna live that way

Reading into every word you say

You said that you could let it go

And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody

that you used to know

‘Hi my dear friend, it’s been a long time since the last time we met. How have you been?

    ‘What are you doing here?’ ‘I think I’ve been clear when I told you I was leaving since I didn’t want to see you anymore.’

    ‘What am I doing here? I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t for you. Unconsciously, you called me, darling. So, tell me. What is the writing about? Does he want me back?’

    ‘It doesn’t matter what he wants. I’m no longer interested’

    ‘It DOES matter. At least for me. Please tell me! Does he miss me? Is he still in love with me? Does he regret...’

‘No he doesn’t. He never did. He thought he was the perfect man and that there was nothing wrong in his behaviour. He neither took the blame for all the things he did nor did he feel guilty for how things turned out. He was always saying that things would happen they way they should happen, that there was nothing he could do to make them better. I’m tired of that! I know that if he comes back, the story will be the same. He belongs to the past, I have comprehended that, now I think you should too.’   

    ‘Absolutely not! Anastasia, please. Let’s calm down and be reasonable. WE love him, he is the love of our life! Don’t miss the opportunity he is giving us. You ought  to relax on this firm and comfortable throne he is offering you. I’m sure you will adore it.’

    ‘Ok! Let’s be reasonable.’, ‘What you see as a ’firm and comfortable throne’ is nothing but a broken chair. And do you know what happen when you sit on a broken chair? Exactly Stacy, you FALL! And I’m not interested in damaging myself if I can avoid it.’

‘But remember how he made us feel, how much fun we had in those times. You’ve never been better than when we were in love with him. Besides, you must understand, we love him, he is the love of our life! It couldn’t have been so easy to forget all the good memories we have together. We were deeply in love and I’m sure we still love him. You are just being childish and silly. Please! We do love him, you have to learn to forgive!!’

    ‘You’re wrong! I couldn’t agree less with you! You have to learn to let things go! Stop talking about WE because I don’t love him, not anymore. I don’t need him, not anymore. I don’t want him back in my life, you do.’ (Anastasia takes Stancy from the arm and send her behind the curtain again) ’Not only don’t I need him, but also I don’t need you. I’m a better person now, I have found myself. I’ve already been in those dark places and it was necessary for me to learn, but now I don’t want to come back there. I took what I needed and moved forward. Farewell my dear. Hopefully, I will see you never again.’

    Anastasia plays *THE BEST OF VIVALDI* again and continues painting.

* By Daiana M., María Laura and Aldana. Based on: American Gothic by Grant Wood.

American Gothic Story

Mrs. Bates: Good evening folks! If you let me, I will tell you the story of what I lived some years ago in the Woods’ farm.

I was probably as young as you are now.

I was heading off to University. That day I had been travelling for more than ten hours. As it was getting dark, I began to look for a place to rest before continuing my journey. People in the village told me about a couple in the countryside who was willing to rent me a room. Without hesitation, I rushed to the place. The big old farm stood at the end of the road. Driving along the path that took me to the house, I detected two lanky figures standing at the porch. They were Mr. & Mrs. Woods.

I introduced myself and they, barely saying a word, let me in. As soon as I entered the house a cold breeze gave me goosebumps. The couple seemed to be very reserved and frugal. They were as creepy as the house. For sure they weren’t the best hosts I could have wished for, but to spend the night in the open land was not an option.

After giving me a tasteless dinner Mrs. Woods led me to my bedroom on the second floor. When we were crossing the corridor Mr. Woods, who had left the table earlier, appeared from nowhere holding a pitchfork. My heart skipped a beat. Nevertheless I continued walking as no one else seemed to notice my shock.

Once I was in bed, I confess, it was easy to fall asleep. The silence and quietness of the country and the soft sounds of the animals worked as a sleep induction. Suddenly, “AWW!!!” a shriek coming from the attic woke me up.

Unsure of what I was about to do, I went upstairs and stood behind the half open door. There I was able to listen to what was going on. Getting closer, I could peer the couple’s shadows moving frantically around in what I remember was a heated argument.

MR.WOOD: What’s wrong with you?

MRS. WOOD: I’d say what’s wrong with you?

MR. WOOD: With me? These days you are the one who is not paying attention to me. And I don’t like the way you’re acting. I feel you are different.

MRS. WOOD: Well, to be honest, I don’t feel comfortable with this situation either.

MR. WOOD: What situation? What do you mean?

MRS. WOOD: Oh, come on! Don’t play innocent with me. We’ve known each other for more than twenty years now. I know something is going on… Something is going through your mind. Do you think I’m stupid? Don’t take me for a fool!

MR WOOD: That’s not true. I think you are being ridiculous. What am I doing wrong? What makes you think that way?

MRS. WOOD: So now I’m going crazy? You really think I buy that story of you taking long walks every weekend to Church?

MR. WOOD: That’s nonsense. Why don’t you trust me? Every time I asked you to come you didn’t want to. Come with me this Sunday and see it’s true.

MRS. WOOD: Who’s going to take care of the guests then? Who’s going to do the laundry, prepare dinner, and do the dishes…? I don’t have time for that! I don’t have time for your lies either!

MR. WOOD: Lies? What are you talking about woman? Don’t twist this whole thing around. Tell me what the problem is right now!

MRS. WOOD: I know you’re being unfaithful to me! You’re seeing another woman! How can you lie to me? Don’t dare to deny it!

MR. WOOD: Cheating? Why do you say that? Do you have any proof? I don’t deserve to be treated with this level of disrespect. I’ve always treated you as a lady, and I demand to be treated as the gentleman I am. Never doubt me.

MRS. WOOD: Please, John. I’m not blind, and I’m certainly not out of my mind. I gave you the chance to admit it, but if you want to know why I am so sure I’ll tell you. You said a woman’s name last night in your sleep.

MR WOOD: But… but... NO, that’s not possible...Ok. Listen Margaret, I will tell you the truth. I’m sick of this secret. I need to tell you all. I’m entirely in love with Miss Collins, the seamstress. Every time I told you I went to church. I went to see her.

MRS. WOOD: How… How did it happen?

MR WOOD: It all began in Church of course, I met her there. Then I frequent her workshop with the excuse of having clothes mended. Later we started seeing each other just as friends. But then, unintentionally, we fell in love.

MRS. WOOD: Enough. Enough! I don’t want to listen to you anymore. How could you do this to me after everything I’ve done for you? Why did you have to turn your back on me like that? Wasn’t I a good wife?

MR WOOD: I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. You are the best wife of all. But you don’t pay so much attention to me and she does. But now that I have told you the truth I’m relieved and I feel it’s time to move on. I think that the best thing to do is to let you free and follow my heart.

MRS. WOOD: No, wait. You said I was the best wife of them all. I see everything clear now, that woman took advantage of our problems and she somehow managed to confuse you. But don’t worry dear, I forgive you. You’re staying here and we’ll forget about all this mess. I’ll change if that’s what it takes for you to stay with me. You’ll see… soon, you’ll forget her.

MR WOOD: No, I’m sorry. I don’t love you anymore. Now I want to be with her. She makes me a better man. I won’t change my mind. I have already made a decision.

MRS. WOOD: If that’s how you feel… you leave me no choice. If I can’t have you, then no one else will.

Mrs. Woods grabbed the pitchfork, leaned on the wall and stabbed Mr. Woods.

Mr. Bates: I knew I had to do something. Shaking I got into the attic, but dizzy for the shock I saw everything fading away.

At that moment I woke up, realizing all what I experienced that night was only a bad dream.