Descriptive Essay

A picture of a mother and her three children became one of the most recognizable photos in history. It came out of the Great Depression. In the black and white picture, a woman sits holding her infant, while resting her head in her right hand, with hopelessness displayed on her face. She has two older children leaning on her, their back facing the camera. Dorothea Lange, the photographer, worked for the federal government. Her assignment was to take photographs of rural poverty and capture the effects of it in her photographs. Migrant Mother did that. It was later discovered that the mother in the image is Florence Thompson, who died in 1983. The Migrant Mother image sparks numerous saddening feelings and dreary thoughts inside people due to

The historical context this photograph references goes back to the way slave women had to take care of their children. Dorothy Roberts in Killing the Black Body: Race, Reproduction, and the Meaning of Liberty explains how slave mothers of newborns did not have the privilege we have today of a maternity leave. They had to go back to work on the fields shortly after giving birth, and the humans they created did not belong to them under the law. Those children were indeed property of the slaveowner. Even though these newborn babies had economic value to the slave owners, their race did not permit a nutritious or interactive lifestyle, which left many of them to die. Roberts explains how their mothers dug a trough that was used as a nursery to keep their children close to them while they worked. However, when it would rain and these through would fill up, these mothers could not attend to their child and potentially save their lives. Consequently, many children drowned in these holes due to child neglect and abandonment driven by the lack of sympathy from the slaveowners that could have permitted the mothers of these children to save their own. Roberts states, “No one recorded the horror their mothers must have felt upon discovering their precious babies floating lifeless in their makeshift cradle” (37). Angel’s depiction of two colored girls lying in a hole

The pain shown in the mother’s eyes represents all the Aboriginal families who lost their young ones. Page fifty-five shows an image of the mother literally breaking apart about the fact that she can’t find her child. It is symbolic of the Stolen Generation as the elderly woman said that most children never returned home and families were left broken apart. The black background symbolises how empty the mother is without her child and the darkness that is

Her most well know piece Migrant Mother which was of Florence Owens Thompson. The photograph shows a worn out mother with her two children's heads in her shoulders, and a baby in her lap.

This woman’s expression is much different than the woman in the center of the image. The woman in blue looks stuck in thought, worry and grief. She is holding a burden. Her expression is so void of emotion that you can feel the suffering that lies behind her eyes and are within her thoughts. Her gaze is aimed up toward the viewer but do not appear to be making contact with the camera. She appears to look through the viewer or past them, but not into them. She is fascinating, she holds one of the babies, but with no affection. All the other woman in the photograph add to the grief, anger and sorrowfulness felt in the image. Their gorgeous and colorful dress drowned out by the apparent distress of the expressions on their sun lite faces.

The photographer of this photograph was working with the Federal Government when she came across a mother trying to live during the hard times of The Great Depression. This mother, who’s name is unknown, was living in a migrant camp with her children. The family was dealing with many hardships like famine and inequality along with many others during that period. This image has caused controversy ever since it was published and reproduced. Some say Lange lacked compassion of the mothers feelings when it was published and brought forth. Overall, the image helped in an enormous way by bringing awareness to the struggles of poverty and starvation to this

The iconic image for discussion is from the women named Florence Owens Thompson. The image is this woman who is with her children in the Great Depression era called the Migrant Mother taken by the photographer Dorothea Lange. The Great Depression was a difficult time for people in the United States. The stock market crash caused debt for many citizens, which caused them to struggle with their bills. Thus, people lost their homes which caused them to be homeless. The Great Depression occurred during the 1930’s a little before World War II. This war helped carry the U.S. out of the struggle of the Great Depression. This image reflects a strong message showing how troubling the Great Depression was. To decipher the mysterious meaning of this

What is their mother’s role within these images? She says “Photographing them in those quirky, often emotionally charged moments has helped me to acknowledge and resolve some of the inherent contradictions between the image of motherhood and reality.” So it seems her images are as much about herself and her own desires, fear and fantasies, her own disconnect between maternal expectation and reality, her own way of ‘shooting back’ defined by her maternal subjectivity through manipulation of the screen of familiality. As much as they are about her children, trying to capture something evanescent, which defines them, captures them in their entirety, their beauty; anxious for their safety, yet with such a strong investment of her own self

Jack was sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor of his tree house. He shivered in the evening air, slouching inside his hoodie, his eyes glued to the pages of his graphic novel. At eleven years old, he was a voracious reader and completely unaware that the sun had set. He had been using his flashlight for over an hour, propped under his chin so his hands could hold the book open. His collie puppy, Lex, had been patient but was starting to think about his fluffy bed and treats in the house. He pushed his head between the book and Jack, using his saddest face and even whimpering a little.

Soft, gentle sunlight slowly poured through the cracks of light pink curtains, thus, making the room a light shade of pink. The pink on a baby blanket, or even a newly budded rose. After all, Adelaide never failed to pleasingly decorate her room, let alone her house, look aesthetically pleasing to all the acquaintances she has over for dinner. Beep-Beep-Beep! Beep-Beep-Beep! The alarm on her smartphone went off, almost giving her a heart attack. As she sat up, she lethargically sat up, putting her glasses on, for she needs them to view the world more clearly. After putting her glasses on, she grabbed her phone, looking at the time. 7 o'clock. It was just the right time for her to get ready. Getting up in the morning, Adelaide only applied a bit of makeup on, while pulling her hair into a neat, brunette ponytail. As she looked in the mirror, smiling a smile that could intimidate any girl, she glides over to the closet, picking out the perfect outfit, a long sleeved button-up with a plaid skirt, and some lovely, black flats to match. Moving a small stack of clothing, in a corner, lay a picture frame covered in dust and what looked like dirt to Adelaide. As if it were a delicate infant, she carefully removed the grime and muck from the old vintage frame. It was of her mother and father when they were younger, therefore, making her jejune at the time. As she gazed upon the picture frame, a look of pain in her eyes. Moreover, she has not seen her parents in over a

One hot and sunny day, Brooklyn and her mom walked to the city from their new house. While they were walking they spotted some cute stores. SInce they loved shopping they stopped and looked at all of the stores.

The weather was beautiful that day. The water was a million shades of blue. The The waters were calm, with the occasional swell rolling to shore. I stood at the helm of this luxurious 40 foot boat. It was an all white boat that had a special design for SCUBA Diving and Open Water fishing, called a Mako. I steered the boat into a pretty unprotected bay that had a nice black sand beach to the north and sheer cliffs to the south. The green vegetation clearly contrasted with the black lava fields around it.The water was deep in the bay. Yet the coral reef was visible even in the deepest spots.

I breathe shakily as I walk to the airport gate. In eleven hours I’m going to be in Argentina, living with a different family, and speaking in a foreign language. An older woman startles me out of my thoughts when she asks if she’s at the correct gate. I nod. After too long a pause I interrupt her conversation with another older woman to ask if I can practice my Spanish with them. They kindly agree, and I stumble over the correct conjugations as I try to make casual conversation. They respond quickly, and I’m instantly lost. My heart sinks as I thank them. I’m already bargaining with myself as we board the plane. It’s going to be okay, I still have eleven hours to learn conversational Spanish.

I never knew what it was like to have a normal heartbeat. I was your typical girl growing up that played with Disney princesses, loved pastel pink, and pranced around the house singing nursery rhymes at dawn. I would wake up every morning with a smile on my face and tell everyone and everything how much I loved them from my parents to my mini pink Barbie sofa that I adored. The world was beautiful and lovely, until I was thirteen years old. I was walking down the crowded and filthy streets of Times Square to a lavish five star hotel that rested on the corner of 45th and Broadway. I walked past the doorman whose hair was as white as snow to the elevator to go up to the 18th floor. I stepped inside of the elevator and clicked the circular yellow button which lit up with the touch of my finger. The elevator began to slowly glide slowly upwards towards my floor. The elevator then came to a sudden halt which took me by surprise. The lights went out. It was as dark as the night of halloween when the bats camouflage in the sky and there is no light to be seen not even from the old fashioned red brick houses decorated in cotton spider webs that lined the street of a tiny wealthy neighborhood in a large city. My entire body was jostled as if I was in the middle of an earthquake and I fell slowly to the ground like the wax melting from a candle. My heart began to thud. I could feel the blood pumping throughout my entire body. The sweat was dripping down my face like I just came out

Ever since I could remember, I have always been able to communicate to the dead. However, when it first started, I didn’t know that they were spirits. They would play with me and be my friends. My parents just thought they were just my imaginary friends, that all change when I met my aunt.