Plot lines of the fairy tale about the wave and the artist. The Tale of the Wave and the Artist

Topic: The Tale of the Artist and the Wave Purpose: knowledge about the marine painter, the image of the sea element in the paintings of I. K. Aivazovsky Equipment: Reproductions of paintings by I. K. Aivazovsky

On stormy days, she was as dark gray as the low clouds, and a cap of white angry foam appeared on her head.

Volna often noticed how people admired her and said to a friend: “What a pity that her beauty cannot be conveyed in colors! After all, she’s different all the time!”

One day a wave saw a little curly-haired boy on the shore. He was not afraid of her and was ready to play with her in almost any weather. And sometimes he took the violin and it sang such beautiful and sad melodies in his hands. He looked at her somehow especially, and the wave wanted to be even more beautiful for him than before.

Petersburg turned out to be a huge city. Large stone buildings stood along the banks, encased in granite embankments, so that the Wave became small and gray, like everyone else.

She often saw her friend, who had now become quite an adult, and now everyone called him Ivan Konstantinovich. And he recognized her. “I’ll draw you,” he said. - Try! – the wave laughed. She was still sure that she could not be shown in a still picture.

“Well, okay, you’ve learned something, I don’t argue,” said Wave, but why, sunsets, sunrises, and moonlit nights? . . . In elegant clothes, anyone will seem handsome. And you try to write me simply without decorations. Yes,” answered the artist. - this task will be more difficult. By that time the artist had moved to Feodosia and built a house

And then one day he came to the shore and said: “It seems to me that I succeeded.” Look, I called this painting “Black Sea”.

And then Ivan Aivazovsky stopped coming ashore. People on the shore said among themselves that he had died. They also said that he was very kind person that helped many people. And that he painted 6,000 paintings during his life.

And the artist himself once again appeared in front of his house and never left again. He sat on a high pedestal, holding a brush in his hand and looking out at the sea. His face smiled, and it seemed to Volna that he was still talking to her.

Resources used 1. “The Tale of the Artist and the Wave” by G. Vetrov 2. Reproductions of paintings by I.K. Aivazovsky - www. agniart. ru 3. Photos of St. Petersburg – www. serzh. ru 4. Portrait of the artist – http: //picin. net. ru

Annex 1

The Tale of the Wave and the Artist.

Once upon a time there was a Wave. She really liked living in the huge Sea. At dawn she turned pink and basked in the warm rays of the sun. And on moonlit nights she exposed her back to the cold silver rays. On stormy days she was as dark gray as the low clouds, and a cap of angry white foam appeared on her head.

But most of all, in the warm summer, she liked to splash around near the shore, stir up colorful pebbles, play with fish or tickle a small child’s leg.

Volna often noticed how people admired her and said to each other: “What a pity that her beauty cannot be conveyed in colors! After all, she is different all the time!”

One day, Wave saw a little curly-haired boy on the shore. He was not afraid of her and was ready to play with her in almost any weather. And sometimes he took the violin, and in his hands it sang such beautiful and sad melodies. That the wave died down and, listening to him, splashed almost audibly near the shore. He looked at her somehow especially. And the wave wanted to be even more beautiful for him than before.

The boy was an Armenian, and he was called either Hovhannes or Vanya, because in the city of Feodosia, where he lived, there were many Russians, Armenians, and Greeks.

“I’ll draw you!” the boy once said.

Try it! - Wave laughed, shaking her head in a small foam cap. She knew that this was impossible. How many artists have already tried to do this! But as soon as they had time to touch the canvas with their brush, the Wave changed its appearance and color, becoming different. And the boy didn’t even have paints. And he drew with charcoal on the whitewashed wall. Wave heard from afar how they angrily scolded him for this.

And then the boy disappeared somewhere. Quietly crawling to the shore and listening to the conversations of people on the shore, Volna learned that Vanya had gone far, far north, to St. Petersburg, to study as an artist. She wanted to look at this city. And she also went on a long journey.

Petersburg turned out to be a huge city. Large stone buildings stood along the banks, encased in granite embankments, so that the Wave became small and gray, like everyone else. She splashed around the steps that went up to the Academy of Arts. She often saw her friend, who had now become quite an adult, and now everyone called him only Ivan or even Ivan Konstantinovich. And he recognized her and often, often stood on the shore, watching her. But Wave felt cramped on the stone shores; she wanted to go out into the sea again. She was happy when she heard that Ivan was going on a trip and decided to accompany him. Wave did not yet know that there would be a lot of travel. Ivan Aivazovsky sailed across the seas and oceans on large ships with sails, and the Wave followed him: they could no longer live without each other. On many seas, rivers and even oceans the artist admired the Wave.

I'll draw you! - he said.

Try! - the wave laughed. She was still sure that she, so changeable, so alive, could not be shown in a motionless picture. She was proud of it, and yet she was a little sad.

Where are your brushes and paints? - Wave murmured mockingly.

“I don’t need them now,” answered the artist. “I need to remember you well, and then, in the studio, I’ll close my eyes, and I’ll see you again and be able to depict you in a picture!”

And now the wave began to be heard more and more often. How people admire Ivan Aivazovsky. They said that he is the best “marine painter” and no one knows how to depict the sea in moonlit night or at dawn. She realized that a marine painter is an artist who knows how to paint the sea.

Most of all they talked about the painting “The Ninth Wave”. Wave knew what this meant. During storms in different seas, she often heard. That people count waves and for some reason think that the ninth is the most terrible and strongest.

Finally, she also saw this huge picture. And she even became quiet and stopped for a few minutes: she was so surprised.

In the center of the picture, in the stormy sea, the artist depicted a fragment of a huge mast, to which several people were clinging. This is all that remains of the large and seemingly so strong ship. They must have been floating all night in the middle of the boundless sea. And then, finally, dawn came. The sun rises, although it is almost invisible through the water dust.

Along with the sun and warmth came hope that the storm would soon subside. But this is only hope... A new ninth wave, a huge wave, rises above the heads of tiny people...

And Wave recognized... himself in her. In the picture she was just as powerful, shining green and blue, with droplets of splashes and flakes of foam, just as beautiful and... alive!

Well, okay,” said the wave to the artist. - You learned something, I don't argue. But why are there always bright colors, sunsets, sunrises and moonlit nights?.. In elegant clothes, anyone will seem handsome. And you try to write me simply without any decorations. This task will be more difficult.

Yes, answered the artist. “You’re right.” And I will learn this.

By that time, Aivazovsky had moved to Feodosia again. The wave saw how he built a house, how he painted more and more paintings in his large workshop with huge windows. It even happened that big picture he needed only one day.

And then one day he came ashore and said:

I think I succeeded. Look. I called this painting "Black Sea".

Wave looked at herself for a long time. Here she is, next to her friends, steadily rising and falling, running across the vast expanse of the sea.

The artist managed to show how bottomless its depth is. Nothing but sea and sky. No bright colors. But there is real beauty. And solemnity.

Yes, you managed... - Wave rustled quietly. - Thank you.

Jonah gratefully ran her wet palm over his legs.

And then Ivan Aivazovsky stopped coming ashore. And the Wave became sad without its artist.

The people on the shore were talking among themselves. It's like he died. They also said that he was a very kind person who helped many people, especially those who wanted to become an artist. And that he painted six thousand paintings during his life. Volna didn’t know how much “six thousand” was, but she understood that it was a lot, because everyone repeated it with great surprise.

But after many, many more days everything changed. The lights of his house and workshop were illuminated again, and every day many people came there and stayed in the house for a long time. Then they walked to the shore, and the wave heard how people, watching it with a smile, told each other how wonderfully Aivazovsky was able to convey its beauty. And Volna was very pleased.

And the artist himself once again appeared in front of his house and never left. He sat on a high pedestal, holding a brush in his hand and looking out to sea. His bronze face smiled, and it seemed to Volna that he, as before, was talking to her.

Our planet Earth, on which we live, is part of solar system. In the center of the solar system, a hot star shines brightly - the Sun. Eight main planets revolve around it at different distances from the Sun. One of them, the third in a row, is our Earth.
Each planet has its own orbit in which it moves around the Sun. A complete revolution around the Sun is called a year. On Earth it lasts 365 days. On planets that are closer to the Sun, a year lasts less, and on those that are further away, a full revolution can take several Earth years. The planets also rotate around their axis. One such complete revolution is called a day. On Earth, a day (a revolution around its axis) is approximately 24 hours (more precisely 23 hours 56 minutes 4 seconds).
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At the end of September, every summer comes to an end. In past times, we celebrated autumn by the water. In the mornings we went out to the banks of rivers and lakes to meet Mother Osenina. A woman with oatmeal bread stood at the center of a round dance, which young girls danced around her. Autumn, autumn, we invite you to visit us! - everyone sang together. Then they broke the bread and treated everyone to it...
Autumn musical and literary composition for children of any age.

A. V. Tyranov. Portrait of the artist Ivan Konstantinovich Aivazovsky

Once upon a time there was a Wave. She really liked living in the huge Sea. At dawn she turned pink and basked in the warm rays of the sun, and on moonlit nights she exposed her back to the cold silver rays. On stormy days she was as dark gray as the low clouds, and a cap of angry white foam appeared on her head. But most of all, in the warm summer, she liked to splash around near the shore, stir up colorful pebbles, play with fish or tickle a small child’s leg.

Volna often noticed how people admired her and said to each other: “What a pity that her beauty cannot be conveyed in colors! After all, she’s different all the time!”

One day, Wave saw a little curly-haired boy on the shore. He was not afraid of her and was ready to play with her in almost any weather. And sometimes he took the violin, and in his hands it sang such beautiful and sad melodies that the Wave died down and, listening to him, splashed almost audibly near the shore. He looked at her somehow especially, and Volna wanted to be even more beautiful for him than before.

Aivazovsky I.K. View of Feodosia

The boy was an Armenian, and he was called either Hovhannes or Vanya, because in the city of Feodosia, where he lived, there were many Russians, Armenians, and Greeks.

I'll draw you! - the boy once said.
- Try! - Wave laughed, shaking her head in a small foam cap. She knew that this was impossible. How many artists have already tried to do this! But as soon as they had time to touch the canvas with their brush, the Wave changed its appearance and color, becoming different. And the boy didn’t even have paints. And he drew with charcoal on the whitewashed wall. Wave heard from afar how they angrily scolded him for this.

And then the boy disappeared somewhere. Quietly crawling to the shore and listening to the conversations of people on the shore, Volna learned that Vanya had gone far, far north, to St. Petersburg, to study as an artist. She wanted to look at this city. And she also went on a long journey.

Aivazovsky I.K. View of the seaside in the vicinity of St. Petersburg

Petersburg turned out to be a huge city. Large stone buildings stood along the banks, encased in granite embankments, so that the Wave became small and gray, like everyone else. She splashed along the steps that went up to the Academy of Arts, looked at the ancient stone Sphinxes brought from Egypt, was amazed at the white nights, when everything was as visible as during the day... She often saw her friend, who had now become quite an adult, and now he was everything They were called only Ivan or even Ivan Konstantinovich. And he recognized her and often, often stood on the shore, watching her.

Aivazovsky I.K. Coast

But Wave felt cramped on the stone shores; she wanted to go out into the sea again. She was happy when she heard that Ivan was going on a trip, and decided
accompany him. Wave did not yet know that there would be a lot of travel. But even if she knew, it would not frighten her: she could not get tired or grow old. Ivan Aivazovsky sailed across the seas and oceans on large ships with sails, and the Wave followed him: they could no longer live without each other. On many seas, rivers and even oceans the artist admired the Wave.
- I'll draw you! - he said.
- Try! - Wave laughed.
She was still sure that she, so changeable, so alive, could not be shown in a motionless picture. She was proud of it, and yet she was a little sad.

Where are your brushes and paints? - Wave murmured mockingly.
“I don’t need them now,” answered the artist. “I need to remember you well, and then, in the studio, I’ll close my eyes, and I’ll see you again and be able to depict you in a picture!”

Aivazovsky I.K. Niagara Falls

And so Volna began to hear more and more often how people admired Ivan Aivazovsky. They said that he is the best “marine painter” and no one knows how to depict the sea on a moonlit night or at dawn like he does. She realized that a marine painter is an artist who knows how to paint the sea.

Most of all they talked about the painting “The Ninth Wave”. Wave knew what this meant. During storms in different seas, she often heard that people counted the waves and for some reason thought that the ninth was the most terrible and strongest.

Finally, she also saw this huge picture. And she even became quiet and stopped for a few minutes: she was so surprised.

Aivazovsky I.K. Ninth wave

In the center of the picture, in the stormy sea, the artist depicted a fragment of a huge mast, to which several people were clinging. This is all that remains of the large and seemingly so strong ship. They must have been floating all night in the middle of the boundless sea. And then, finally, dawn came. The sun rises, although it is almost invisible through the water dust. Along with the sun and warmth came hope that the storm would soon subside. But this is only hope... A new ninth wave, a huge wave, rises above the heads of tiny people...

And Volna...recognized herself in her. In the picture she was just as powerful, shining in the sun with green and blue colors, with droplets of splashes and flakes of foam, just as beautiful and... alive!

Well, okay,” Wave said to the artist. - You learned something, I don't argue. But why are there always bright colors, sunsets, sunrises and moonlit nights?.. In elegant clothes, anyone will seem handsome. And you try to write me simply, without any decorations. This task will be more difficult.

Yes,” answered the artist. - You're right. And I will learn this. By this time, Aivazovsky had again moved to Feodosia. The wave saw how he built a house, how he painted more and more paintings in his large workshop with huge windows. It even happened that he needed only one day to complete a large painting.

Aivazovsky I.K. Black Sea

And then one day he came ashore and said: “It seems to me that I succeeded.” Look. I called this painting “Black Sea”.

Wave looked at herself for a long time. Here she is, next to her friends, rising and falling steadily, running across the vast expanse of the sea.

The artist managed to show how bottomless its depth is. Nothing but sea and sky. No bright colors. But there is real beauty. And solemnity.

Yes, you managed... - Wave rustled quietly. - Thank you. And she gratefully ran her wet palm over his legs.

Aivazovsky I.K. View of the Leander Tower in Constantinople

And then Ivan Aivazovsky stopped coming ashore. And the Wave became sad without its artist. People on the shore talked among themselves as if he had died. They also said that he was a very kind person who helped many people, especially those who wanted to become an artist. And that he painted six thousand paintings during his life. Volna didn’t know how much “six thousand” was, but she understood that it was a lot, because everyone repeated it with great surprise.

But after many, many more days everything changed. The lights of his house and workshop were illuminated again, and every day many people came there and stayed in the house for a long time. Then they walked to the shore, and Volna heard how people, watching her with a smile, told each other how wonderfully Aivazovsky was able to convey her beauty. And Volna was very pleased.

And the artist himself once again appeared in front of his house and never left. He sat on a high pedestal, holding a brush in his hand and looking out to sea. His bronze face smiled, and it seemed to Volna that he, as before, was talking to her.

Aivazovsky I.K. Ice Mountains in Antarctica

Aivazovsky I.K. Bay of Naples on a moonlit night

N. Z. Solomko. A TALE ABOUT THE WAVE AND THE ARTIST. AIVAZOVSKY

Dear readers! We are glad that the series "Tales of Artists" you and your kids like it...we...decided to show all our great painting- unknown, forgotten, hidden from you and me behind the walls of the “storage rooms”. IN late XIX- at the beginning of the 20th century, everything that glorified the beauty of the world and nature, that spoke about God, was declared philistinism, a “salon” - art that “does not reveal the social ills of society.” Unfortunately, there are many things we will never see again. But no one is in a hurry to expose even what remains for public viewing... We are trying, with your help, to revive the names of the artists who make up the golden fund of our culture, to open their masterpieces to you - our readers. It takes your breath away to see these brilliant paintings! Only Russian painters could paint like that! Russian culture will not die as long as there are people who strive to open the world of beauty to their children.