What the Wolf Really Said
to Little Red Riding-Hood
Artworks Creative Challenge
by Ingenious Reflection
by Ingenious Reflection
Brief Artist's Guide
How It Works
1
Poetry Reading
Immerse yourself in reading the original poetry. Understand its underlying content as a whole. Tune in to the visuals that flow from the storyline of the poetic lines.
2
Music Listening
Now complete the meaningful scene by listening to the piece of music itself. This will enhance your overall perception and emotional resonance, and push your creative imagination in the right way.
3
Artworks Creation
Start creating. Create 3-5 author's artwork in your own technique of performance, let nothing limit the flight of your creative imagination in general. Good luck!
4
Sending Artwork
Digitize your artwork and send it to us in a zip archive. The format of your digitized artwork should be as follows: JPEG or TIFF. Also fill out the other fields of the form.
5
Getting Feedback
Within 72 hours you will surely receive our feedback with one or another suggestion of further creative collaboration or partnership roadmap.
What the Wolf Really Said
to Little Red Riding-Hood
to Little Red Riding-Hood
Wondering maiden, so puzzled and fair,
Why dost thou murmur and ponder and stare?
"Why are my eyelids so open and wild?"
Only the better to see with, my child!
Only the better and clearer to view
Cheeks that are rosy and eyes that are blue.
Dost thou still wonder, and ask why these arms
Fill thy soft bosom with tender alarms,
Swaying so wickedly? Are they misplaced
Clasping or shielding some delicate waist?
Hands whose coarse sinews may fill you with fear
Only the better protect you, my dear!
Little Red Riding-Hood, when in the street,
Why do I press your small hand when we meet?
Why, when you timidly offered your cheek,
Why did I sigh, and why didn't I speak?
Why, well: you see – if the truth must appear –
I'm not your grandmother, Riding-Hood, dear!
original poem by Bret Harte
(1836-1902)
Why dost thou murmur and ponder and stare?
"Why are my eyelids so open and wild?"
Only the better to see with, my child!
Only the better and clearer to view
Cheeks that are rosy and eyes that are blue.
Dost thou still wonder, and ask why these arms
Fill thy soft bosom with tender alarms,
Swaying so wickedly? Are they misplaced
Clasping or shielding some delicate waist?
Hands whose coarse sinews may fill you with fear
Only the better protect you, my dear!
Little Red Riding-Hood, when in the street,
Why do I press your small hand when we meet?
Why, when you timidly offered your cheek,
Why did I sigh, and why didn't I speak?
Why, well: you see – if the truth must appear –
I'm not your grandmother, Riding-Hood, dear!
original poem by Bret Harte
(1836-1902)
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