Front and Center

If you've ever taken Psych 101, you know how incredibly attracted humans are to faces. Dogs like bums, and cats like, well, who knows what cats like. But simians, and we are simian, like faces. We also, or so we are told, like symmetry. I'm not entirely convinced of this. Some of the most beautiful faces that we as a species admire are decidedly lopsided. Babies spend significantly more time looking at symmetrical faces than non. But as we age, I suspect, we develop a slightly more twisted aesthetic. Take Botticelli's favorite model for instance. There is an exercise you are taught in photography where you print a face as a mirror image: either the right or left sides of a face is made one. It turns out, most faces have two sides to them. A happy side and a sad side. The composite of either side is called a mirror composite. In most people, the right side is the more animated and expressive and is often chosen by others as the more attractive. Botticelli's Venus had a face so asymmetrical that early critics suggested he actually used two different models.

Copyright Chris Derecola

A friend of mine has recently undertaken a photographic project. He intends to capture 100 Strangers by December 31st. He announced this on his blog and I'm kind of interested in the outcome. I'm simian and I like faces. But I'm also face blind. This is a rather rare condition that prevents one from recognizing and remembering faces. Those of us with prosopagnosia tend to seek out oddities as they are more memorable. I dislike and actually somewhat fear the suburbs as the conformity makes it almost impossible for me to tell one person from another. The strangest thing though, is that I can absolutely recognize and remember photographs of faces. I seem to process them in a different part of my brain. Because of this, as much as I like faces, I love photographs of faces.

I have been a little more attuned to the faces around me than I usually am since I read about Chris' project. Normally, I am focussed on dress, hair, gait, and build. These are the things that I can absorb and use later. But I can "see" a face, at least in it's bits and pieces. The tight eye of happiness, the rigid mouth of anger, the crooked nostrils of bemusement. In my newly-heightened state of awareness, I found myself riveted by the faces of the Ethiopians around me. This isn't the first time I have noticed just how lovely and unique their faces are, but living in DC, I have many more of them to fall in love with. We are second only to NY in the number of Ethiopian residents and we are blessed to have access to some of the best Ethiopian restaurants in the world. (Not to mention the fact that almost all of our cab drivers are Ethiopian which, as a former taxi driver myself, is enough to endear me to just about anyone).

So on Sunday, I was particularly excited when my good friend, Atlanta Hotwheels (the friend formerly known as Atlanta has indicated that he prefers the name Hotwheels and who am I to argue with that since his wheels are, in fact, hot?), suggested we go to Dukem for lunch. I had been meaning to go there forever. The same family owns my beloved Habesha Market as well as Madjet (all on the U Street Corridor). Dukem is regularly touted as "the best Ethiopian in DC." Well, it's not. Don't get me wrong. It was great. But the fact that the only Ethiopians in the joint were servers is telling. If you have never experienced this amazing cuisine, than this is probably a good place to start. But if you know your kitfo from your minchet-abesh, than you should probably go elsewhere.

For now, I'm probably going to stick with Habesha Market and their whole fried fish, meat sambusas, and veggie wots. I love watching the gorgeous women in their Sunday best and the darling children, polite and engaging. And if I'm the only white woman in there, so wot? Sometimes that's how you know you're in the right place.