Noun; the quality of being made up of exactly similar parts facing each other or around an axis.
Ask Dan. I've always been a
bit nutty about symmetry. It must be because I'm a Libra. Balance. Everything
must be equal.
Lack of symmetry = Bad |
I've recently taken up photography,
hoping to become good enough at it to balance my pictures with Dan’s ability to
find a story in everything. The symmetry of pictures and words. A project we
could take into retirement. What I see in pictures = what he articulates in
words. It might happen, it’s been quite a learning curve.
The barrier is that I've found that photography is not about symmetry; it’s about tension, the “rule of
thirds”. Drawing the eye with a discordant element that causes the viewer to
stop and look a bit longer. Except when it’s not about creating tension, when
it is about balance and symmetry, because symmetry is what the image demands,
because the subject is too traditional to impose tension. I just typed this and
I don't completely get it. It’s all very confusing. I’m learning with every 100
pictures.
I took my camera and
incomplete knowledge of photography on our annual trip to Key West. Fantasy
Fest. I snapped a lot of people pictures. Up close and in their face. It was
fairly easy to do, people don’t get all garbed and painted to avoid having
their picture taken. One picture, one face and with an attempt to get so close
that I could impose symmetry on the image. I suppose my desire to stay within
my comfort zone means I came home with a lot of snapshots and very little in
the way of “art”.
Three witches does not equal "Rule of Thirds" |
I hauled my camera around as
Dan and I participated in parties and parades and crawls. Both of us dressed in
a costume to match every event. The symmetry of a couple, married for a long
time, understanding each other’s boundaries. For example, at the tutu
pub-crawl, Dan wore black while I wore red. We looked good and had a great
time, moving from place to place. It’s a poker run, so I was thrilled to get “a
pair”. Symmetry. We stopped at five different places, enjoying the camaraderie.
I know this is two pair. |
Our fourth stop was at
“Coyote Ugly”, a place where the young, enthusiastic, curvy bartender gets up
and starts dancing on the bar, encouraging other women in the crowd to jump up
and join in the fun. I watched as other women in our group climbed up on the
bar and started dancing, thinking that with a bit of encouragement I’d be there
as well. Tension. Instead, I took pictures of the ladies who were brave enough
to get up there and dance.
A week later, Dan and I went
to our usual spontaneous Thursday night at Hectors. Talking to friends, I
mentioned Coyote Ugly and how much fun it was. Dan said he never needed to go
there again. Tension. I said with just a
bit of a nudge from Dan, I would have danced on the bar. Dan just went blank
and stared at me.
This required some discussion.
Dan explained that he was very aware what a good dancer I am, and had wanted me
to go up on the stage. But after 36 years of my asking him to not put me on a
Barbie pedestal, he was loathe to do so. The symmetry of our relationship, as I
look at it from here, is that Dan has always looked at me as a far sexier
woman than I see myself. As my self-confidence has continued to expand, I realize I need to
give Dan some notice that a bit of encouragement at, say, Coyote Ugly won't land him
in the dog (coyote) house. (Dan, who along with wingman James started the
“tutu” part of the pub crawl, has already contacted the organizer of the crawl
and requested Coyote Ugly be a stop next year. No explanation given. None
asked. Thanks Ef, I think.)
Taking this silly blog
to an ending I was mildly disappointed not to be on stage, but as I think of
the fun costumes I wore, or didn’t wear, I have allowed myself to be way more
than Paula 1.0 would have ever imagined. I've added tension to my life. And if
Dan 1.0 has evolved into someone watching out for me that closely, that works
as well. That’s symmetry. And that’s a picture perfect ending that isn't a snapshot.
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