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1. Open a post on the class Padlet.

2. Post a photo of your still life.
3. Open another post and record a short art review on your work:
a. Why you've chosen that still life;
b. What it represents, what thoughts, feelings and emotions it can awaken;
c. Your opinion about the purpose of this project: using recyclable materials to create or recreate art.

4. Search for a poem in English that matches your still life.
5. Open another post: add your poem.

6. On that post write a short comment on the poem and explain why you think it's the perfect match for your still life.

To open a post you just have to double click or click on the + sign. To record your art review you can use the Video Recorder or the Audio Recorder (click on ... and then choose Video Recorder or Audio Recorder). You can also use your phone to record your voice and then upload the audio file into this Padlet.
If you don't have a Padlet account, DON'T FORGET TO WRITE YOUR NAME!

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Paul Gauguin

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The Orange

At lunchtime I bought a huge orange—
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave—
They got quarters and I had a half.

And that orange, it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.
This is peace and contentment. It’s new.

The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all the jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I’m glad I exist.

— Wendy Cope

This poem, just as Gauguin's still life, perfectly encapsulates the warm and comfortable feeling of being happy and content just as you are.
It is a simple, ordinary poem about finding happiness in simple, ordinary things–what could be more beautiful and wholesome than that?

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Still Life with books and candle - Henri Matisse

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Still Life with books and candle - Henri Matisse

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Clara Vázquez

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Clara Vázquez

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Open a book
And you will find
People and places of every kind;
Open a book
And you can be
Anything that you want to be;
Open a book
And you can share
Wondrous worlds you find in there;
Open a book
And I will too
You read to me
And I’ll read to you.

This poem shows the feeling of reading a book and in the painting we see many books, maybe we are seeing someone who likes to read.
Clara Vázquez

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Glass of Absinthe and a Carafe - Van Gogh

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Glass of Absinthe and a Carafe - Van Gogh

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I chose this art because of numerous reasons.
This image represents two sides. A good side and a bad side. The bad side is on the wine side, because spilling wine on the towel is a sign of bad luck only for those who will remove the stains from the drink, as we can see under the glass. The apple is connected to the symbolism of the tree, the axis of the world, associated with the cross and Christ. Which is the good side.

P.S: For some reason, the computer was not allowing me to use audio or video. That's why I didn't record it.

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Women Are Apples - Men Are Wine by Herbert Nehrlich

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Women Are Apples - Men Are Wine by Herbert Nehrlich

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Oh women, you apples on trees!
Only courted by honey bees
The best of you are at the top
few men have the guts to climb up.

The fear of them falling to ground
and staying there, never be found.
So many look under the tree
pick the fallen ones only to see
that the ones at the top are in wait
for the right one to come, not too late.

But the courage required to climb
and the journey that takes so much time
and the fear of a slip
are the reasons they skip
the best apples so high on their own,
(No bad apples are ever alone) .

And men, you delectable grapes
come in sizes, surprises and shapes.
While you dream of a romp
it's the women who stomp
all the crap out of you, nasty sinner
only then will they take you to dinner.

With some patience and skill
they eventually will
make the grapes of you men in to wine
then to take some small sips
with their ruby red lips
let you mumble the words 'you are mine'.

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Still life with old books ans fresh pear - Jarosław Blaminsky

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Still life with old books ans fresh pear - Jarosław Blaminsky

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I longed to be eaten
Relished, enjoyed not thrown out half beaten
I waited to be cleansed, groomed and kept
Held in just hands
While Ripe and blush
Summer crawled
And winter crept
Grabbed me by the waist
Squeezed of pulp and taste
Ruined of luster, weak and worn out
I wait for justice
Till time takes its chance
When worms take charge
Of my wasted youth
Cast me away
To my mother’s lap
For pests I prefer
To an unjust man

I think this poem perfectly fits what I think about and feel when I look at this still life. It portrays the passage of time and how if the pear is left abandoned on top of the books without being eaten, it will eventually turn into a husk of what it used to be, becoming old, rotten and losing its youth.

Daniel Correia

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The Quarantine Diaries- Margaux Rebourcet

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The Quarantine Diaries- Margaux Rebourcet

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Home- thoughts from home by Pamela Binns

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Home- thoughts from home by Pamela Binns

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We’ve been in lock down quite a while,
It’s getting hard to raise a smile,
I sometimes force a rictus grin,
But everything is wearing thin,
Except myself; I’ve put on weight,
No exercise builds appetite,
The government tell us to stay put
But everyone is hoofin’ it,
They crowd the beaches pack the parks,
And queue for hours, outside, at Marks.
Will Boris even find a way
To lead us back to yesterday?

I think that this poem represents all the things that we have been through during quarantine, everyone was forced to stay at home. It was complicated for everyone, but especially for those who were left without any activity.

Francisca Queirós

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Still Life with a Pear and Books - Julio Bomfim

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Still Life with a Pear and Books - Julio Bomfim

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If we could look back to those neolithic times,
When early man would walk and roam.
There was a need for some kind of leadership
Or hierarchy, whether away or at home.

My guess is that they looked to the biggest or
Strongest, not necessarily the wisest of men.
As they hunted and forged for survival,
While their numbers would grow in the den.

This growth would soon become too much for
One leader, no matter how strong.
So this hierarchy developed new branches,
Giving powers to others, right or wrong.

As this expansion would eventually reach millions,
The demand on leadership was put to the test.
And many became corrupted by their power,
Yielding to no one beneath on a quest.

While this power has manifest differently,
Generally God or great wealth were at the core.
Leaving the barbaric that were of novel faith,
To the masses and silent poor.

For those that would cling to their power,
History may provide answers to lend.
Since rebellion is often what looks forward,
Targeting the powerful they no longer defend.

This is where hope must be held upon wisdom,
To lessen the greed that surrounds mankind.
Because power requires equal responsibility,
Where it's not hoarded, leaving others behind.

I chose this poem because it talks about power and hierarchy and I'm a strong believer that it relates to the photo because it also represents a hierarchy pyramid. Even though the pear isn't the strongest one, it may represent the smartest one and the bottom book is the oldest and poorest book: just like in this poem.

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Still Life with fruit, basket and a Bottle - R. Jeron

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Still Life with fruit, basket and a Bottle - R. Jeron

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What's that smell
Coming from the kitchen?
It's mom
Cooking another dish

Miss that old smell
From the food to the set table
It fills my guts every time
I miss her

And I'll miss her till I die

I chose this poem because, my image reminds me a lot of a kitchen where you'd usually see your mom cooking, but the background is not very joyful, so I went with this poem. It gave me the exact emotion that the picture conveys.

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Henri Matisse

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Tonight, grave sir, both my poor house, and I
Do equally desire your company;
Not that we think us worthy such a guest,
But that your worth will dignify our feast
With those that come, whose grace may make that seem
Something, which else could hope for no esteem.
It is the fair acceptance, sir, creates
The entertainment perfect, not the cates.
Yet shall you have, to rectify your palate,
An olive, capers, or some better salad
Ushering the mutton; with a short-legged hen,
If we can get her, full of eggs, and then
Lemons, and wine for sauce; to these a cony
Is not to be despaired of, for our money …

I think this poem has to do with the still life I've chosen because it refers to a poor house that has food. Hence, I associate with it my feelings about the still life.

Leonor Faleiro

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Madalena Cavaleiro

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This poem shows the importance of a "banquet" in our lives whether in Love or not, it shows the meaning behind gestures that can be considered small but in reality have a lot more meaning to them.

Madalena Cavaleiro

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I chose this Still Life because it reminds me of the birthday dinner's at my grandmother's house where the table would be fully decorated with fruit and beautiful antique plates.
This project has the purpose of raising awareness about the amount of plastic we are consumig and wasting at the same time, without even thinking about it.

Madalena Cavaleiro

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Oh the wax
upon my fingers,
burns of antecedent time;
sticky and unpleasant.
Drips of vagueness,
like tears before bed.
Crying appeal is always so strange.
The shape of you,
a thin tall tower of white.
Sometimes red,
as my eyes staring at the dark's
only light.

Scented in desire,
an orange jelly at her center,
I'd love you only now,
but what of later's pleasure?
The winds of my lungs kills the light,
with it's dues of pressure.
Ssssttt—goes the after echo,
of wet fingers on wick.
Feeling an empty dark
without you around.

I chose this poem because I think it goes well with my still life. To me the poem
is about how unpleasant the feeling of getting burned is but how comforting it
can be at the same time, the author hates how much she loves the candle and
despises how much she needs it. Without the candle, the feeling of emptiness
comes back and so does the darkness. In my still life the source of light
is the candle, without it it's just another dark painting without appeal.

Madalena Moraes

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André Antunes

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Conspicuous Consumption
Look at all I have
I've got money burning
In this power grab
Between the haves and have nots
I'm one of the haves
Enjoying this life of luxury
Sitting in its lap

Conspicuous Consumption
Take a breath and breath in deep
Take as many as you want
Although this stuff isn't cheap
Money is no object
It means nothing to me
Now that you ask, yes Virginia
Money does grow on trees

Conspicuous Consumption
In this world of give and take
If it's no longer suitable
It becomes throw away
Even if you tire of it
No need for it to break
Conspicuous Consumption
The phrase of the day

I think this still life painting demonstrates abundance, even a certain exuberance.
All the elements in this painting lead us to the excessive consumption in today's society.
For this reason, I chose a poem about consumerism.
Consumerism refers to the tendency of people living in a capitalist economy to engage in a lifestyle of
excessive materialism that revolves around reflexive, wasteful, or conspicuous overconsumption. In this
sense, consumerism is widely understood to contribute to the destruction of traditional values and ways
of life, consumer exploitation by big business, environmental degradation, and negative psychological
effects.

André Antunes

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Sailor Tailor Still Life by George Rustchev

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Sailor Tailor Still Life by George Rustchev

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I know I hurt you
When I did what I did.
But still without you
I don't think I can live.

You're the only one
That I have ever loved.
You were my shoulder to lean on
When things got rough.

I know it was stupid
And a huge mistake.
Will you please forgive me?
I'll do whatever it takes.

I cried myself to sleep at night
Knowing that I shouldn't.
I should have moved on
But, well, I just couldn't.

But when I cheated
Was when I realized
Just how much you meant to me
And still now and then
The tears stream from my eyes.

It's been a couple of months
And I still can't move on.
I just don't want to think
That we are really done.

I was so scared to tell you
I thought that I would lose you.
I highly doubted it
But it came true.

I thought that we could work things out
And build our trust back up.
But I think I really lost you
And to even think that is really tough.

I compare other guys to you
But none comes even close.
All they want to do is
Hit it, quit it, then boast.

You really were different
And that's what I liked.
You held me close
On cold, summer nights.

Even as I write this
Tears fall from my eyes.
I can't believe I did that to you
Then turned around and lied.

You were the most precious
Person in my life.
And maybe if I never did that
We'd still be doing alright.

I chose this poem because I think it matches perfectly with the meaning of the still life. In the poem a girl cheated on her boyfriend, without thinking of the consequences and then she regrets it and tries to apologize. The boyfriend is obviously really hurt and will never forget what his girlfriend did. We don't know if he forgave her but even if he did, he will always remember and their relationship will never be the same as it was before.

Nidhi Meggi

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Plastic
I did not see it coming,
yet I saw it all the while,
that packet on the playground
I ran past with biggest smile.

The sports bottles at pitch side,
forgotten by the last.
It crept up rather slowly,
then quickly as time passed.

The parcel at the back gate,
hiding bubble wrap galore.
The more I start to notice,
I’m noticing much more.

It’s in the air I’m breathing,
the water out the tap,
the belly of the walrus,
can your conscience live with that?

It burns a fire inside me,
a darkness grows within.
I’d like to tell the careless
“Just use the bloody bin”

So what then is the answer,
to turn this plastic tide.
Or shall we all just turn our backs,
run away and hide.

Be the man who’s sat at home,
Whistling ignorance is bliss.
Who won’t change the way he’s living
because the problem isn’t his.

I chose this poem because plastic is an important topic nowadays and we need to pay more attention to this subject

Constança Tavares

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Emily Dickinson -  "I bring an unaccustomed wine"

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Emily Dickinson -  "I bring an unaccustomed wine"

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I bring an unaccustomed wine
To lips long parching
Next to mine,
And summon them to drink;

Crackling with fever, they Essay,
I turn my brimming eyes away,
And come next hour to look.

The hands still hug the tardy glass
The lips I would have cooled, alas
Are so superfluous Cold

I would as soon attempt to warm
The bosoms where the frost has lain
Ages beneath the mould

Some other thirsty there may be
To whom this would have pointed me
Had it remained to speak

And so I always bear the cup
If, haply, mine may be the drop
Some pilgrim thirst to slake

If, haply, any say to me
"Unto the little, unto me,"
When I at last awake.

Emília Paiva

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Brown and Black Vintage Retro Travel Guide Newsletter

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André Antunes

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I chose these because I have lip gloss just like these.