The Dancer

The voices in the crowd had begun to echo their displeasure at having to wait. Ten minutes to production. Mat rushed down the dark, narrow hallway and tapped on the first door on the right. He didn't have time for a motivational talk tonight. He hurled an obscenity at the door as if it would help. No answer. He turned and rushed back to the stage, dimming the lights.

Nadylia sat with her head resting on her arms. She'd heard the call. Her stomach rumbled. She leaned over and grabbed a pain reliever from her purse. It would help with the cramping. She rose slowly and looked intently in the dressing room mirror. Her gaze settled on a small photo tucked in its edge. Her shoulders rose as she took a deep breath.

She looked up at the reflection behind her. It revealed several tight outfits recently purchased for tonight. The glitter danced off the walls. It was the weekend, she reminded herself, and a large crowd was expected. She slowly put on a personal protection; then one of the outfits.

Finally, she eased on a pair of black fishnets with her two-inch pumps. The combination always got the crowd hyped. They'd tip well tonight!

The stage glistened with swirling ball lights. The cloudy backdrop appeared on black walls. Indeed, it looked like a magical stage production that coordinated with her outfit. She refused the chair, opting for the pole instead. She needed to keep fit.

She stood surveying the crowd. Suddenly she dropped to the floor. Legs open, she wrapped her black, shoulder-length hair around her face several times in a circular motion. The applause was deafening. Whistling, cheering, and clapping filled the hall.

Five minutes into her routine, the pain eased. She sensed the crowd's adulation with their high pitched whistles. The music overshadowed her thoughts.

Nearby, she heard some of the conversations taking place. Always the same. She closed her eyes.

Her routine was baked into her mind as were the words "Workforce reduction. Good luck" on the pink slip including in the envelope handed her three months ago.

Tears began to form. The voice of the doctor imparting words she never wanted or expected to hear rang in her ear. The cries of her two-year old desperately requiring the recommended surgery rang even louder.

She eased her body downward toward the hard surface of the stage and swung harder. Just like the harsh reality of life, she swung back. She had no other choice.

She needed to hurry and finish. Her son was waiting to be picked up after her shift ended.

And, her second job was waiting.

Creating "The Dancer"

Recently, I decided to explore the heavy hitters arena in a fractal drawing. I raised the weight of the transform to 100. Daring to go a bit further, I set the variation of sinusoidal to 50. This was my first time attempting settings at this depth. I'm happy I did as an entire fractal world of partially recognizable images appeared with various other settings involved.

All the elements in this fractal art project are true fractals.

Imagine my surprise upon seeing an image of a figure that looked to be female. I couldn't help but notice the curves in the shape of figure that looked like she was elevated. The image resembled a dancer. The pose was a bit curved. The right arm looked to be in a down position near her left side on the thigh portion of the body. I then noticed knees and legs.

On black canvas is the best view to the female. I immediately named her The Dancer.

Here's the dancer in full fractal image:

However, she looked bare standing by herself. So I surrounded her with a surreal fractal image that resembled a platform.

What I saw in her on that platform as she was about to perform evoked a story not of fame and fortune, but of necessity.