Friday, December 17, 2010

ultimate frisbee

When you pointed out the halfway smile I remembered Don, the stagecraft professor who taught us about stage makeup.  It was the strangest of my university courses, twenty students in a dimly lit room seated in front of mirrors, painting their own faces for credit.  Don wore makeup too, an orangey base colour that ended at his collar.  It seemed peculiar to me that a professional makeup artist would wear such detectable makeup but I have never fully understood makeup and maybe that it is the point.

As I stared at myself in the mirror trying, for some inane reason, to draw a treble clef around my right eye, Don stood behind me watching me in the mirror.  (And that's another thing that has always confused me about mirrors, the way it is possible for two people facing the same direction to make eye contact with their reflections.)  Don made me nervous and my hand was unsteady doing the stupid assignment, drawing on my face.  He told me the same thing you told me, that my symmetry was thrown into chaos by the halfway smile.  I stood in my bathroom mirror alone later making faces at myself trying to recreate whatever you were talking about but my self-consciousness must have altered the crooked expression that happens naturally.

The self-conscious smile was symmetrical but sharp enough to cut oneself upon its edge.  I never recognize myself in mirrors or in photographs.  Only in words.  






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9 comments:

heartinsanfrancisco said...

I hated the makeup part of acting school and later, theatre - it gave me rashes.

What you said about never recognizing yourself in mirrors or pictures, I thought I was unique in that respect. It seems that I have no real conception of what I look like. I'm not sure what it means, though.

Jerry said...

I think, but I don't know for sure, that the lack of symmetry resulting from the half-smile would be delightful to see. Sometimes it is the variance from the perceived norm is an interesting definition of beauty. At least it is to me.

secret agent woman said...

I think people's reactions to mirrors is so interesting. Mirrors can be mesmerizing.

heartinsanfrancisco said...

I agree with Jerry. I think the most beautiful people have some irregularity in their features - a slightly too-large mouth, a bumpy nose, something that makes them unique. All the blond supermodels with interchangeable parts are equally pretty, and ultimately boring.

J.B. Chicoine said...

Every time I read one of your posts I am amazed at how you arrange words, but not half as amazed as I am at how it evokes a feeling that I didn't think could be expressed with words...wow...

mischief said...

@heart, I wonder if that rash was an emotional reaction or a physical one. I don't know what it means either except that too little time in the mirror ocassionally results in accidentally wearing tshirts inside out.

@Jerry, I think I agree with you about beauty being improved upon by variances. The people whose faces I love the most are always far from perfect.

@secret agent, mirrors are a fascination to me, reflections and opposites and all the strange things mirrors can do, especially when there's more than one and you can reflect reflections.

@jbchicoine, thank you so much for saying that. I love arranging words, I love it when they understand what I'm trying to say and help me capture it accurately. Especially when it means I can communicate with someone else who gets it.

heartinsanfrancisco said...

My makeup induced rashes were physical. I am allergic to most cosmetics and skin care products, but adored the other aspects of stage makeup, especially when I could be an old crone with blackened teeth.

I also marvel at the way you express yourself - kind of like Impressionist paintings, but with words.

glnroz said...

The verbal symmetry of your words seldom "crook".

mischief said...

Blackened teeth are hilarious, but give me bad dreams. My verbal symmetry is always in danger of going askew - but I think I will go with it when it does. (comma comma comma)