I love math. There was a time when I was pretty good at it and proud of it. This was before I got turned on to art, and the world seemed to be divided between the arts and sciences. My English teacher was my forever enemy, as he used to rant about how the arts were superior because there is no one right answer. My father, the scientist, thought quite the opposite.
I wish I could get them both in a room right now and have a sit down. Could I get them both to see the beauty each brings to the other? I love Pi and Fibonacci and the idea that there is beauty in math and math in beauty. I love color and working to understand the "rules" of composition, and I am equally struck by the magical accidents that spring seemingly from the spirit realm onto the canvas at seemingly random times.
I think maybe having a scientist for a father and a social worker for a mother has meant getting comfortable in that in-between place where heart informs head and vice versa.
Pi is a rule for measuring a circle’s diameter or circumference. Know one and you have the other. But at the same time, it is an unruly number that eludes final calculation (last I looked, it has been calculated to over 31 trillion places).
I love the knowing and the not knowing.
You can have your pi and eat it, too!