by Editor Jane Lyons
Edited and published by Yvette Depaepe, the 11^th of September 2026

“le depart” by Piet Flour

As photographers, we are often taught to use odd numbers, especially number three, in a compositional technique known as the Rule of Odds. This has much to do with the way the eye moves. The brain naturally looks for relationships and tends to pair objects. With two objects, the eye can move back and forth between them, but with an odd number—particularly three—the gaze is encouraged to travel through the frame.

Two objects can compete for attention, creating tension or a deliberate split in focus. Add a third element, however, and the balance changes: one element may become dominant, supported by the other two. Three points can also form an invisible triangle within the composition, drawing the eye around the frame and creating a sense of depth and movement. Even numbers often feel more stable or symmetrical, whereas odd numbers can feel less resolved and more organic.

Sometimes rules are meant to be broken.

“…dear friend” by Stefano Mallus 

“two stories” by Samir Pajic 

“Fiction” by Bogdan Bousca 

“Waiting for the Storm” by Stefan Eisele 

“Melancholia” by Michelle Degryse 

“Dalmatian Pelicans” by Xavier Ortega 

“Words remain unspoken” by Marc Apers 

“+” by Roberto Marini

“Communication” by Uschi Hermann

“Divine Intervention” by Jane Lyons

Pairing subjects that are different or completely unrelated can create visual interest by starting an unexpected conversation within the frame. When two dissimilar objects are placed side by side, we begin to see each one differently. Contrasting textures, exaggerated differences in size and scale, or unlikely relationships can suggest metaphors and stories that neither subject could create alone.

At a time when familiar photographic pairings can easily become clichéd, unusual combinations have the power to surprise us. Examples include a dog and a fish, a candid shot of a rabbi and a pigeon, or a woman and a crow. The more improbable the relationship, the more intrigued we are. Two seemingly unrelated subjects can suddenly give us something new to look at and tell us a story we hadn't expected.

“Freckles beauty” by Martin Krystynek QEP

“best friends” by Carola Kayen-Mouthaan 

“Two birds” by Ramiz Sahin

“Sisters” by Leonardo Bandinelli

“I love you as only one loves once” by Jorge Pimenta

“Veronica” by Leonardo Santoro 

“Portrait bw Cow and Girl” by Mikhail Potapov 

“Two of Us” by David Novak

Perhaps two is never just two. Looking through these photographs, I noticed how often a third element quietly enters the composition. This could be an object, a shadow, a patch of colour, a gesture, or a shape in the background.

In Two Stories, for example, the star on the train joins the two windows to create a triangle. While the photograph may depict a pair, something else is often at play within the frame, stabilizing, disturbing or leading the eye from one subject to another. Perhaps the power of two comes, in part, from the presence of an almost invisible third... or not. 

“Mates” by Linda D Lester 

“Maybe they talk together” by Inge Schuster 

“Will You ….” by Golubeva Nataly 

“The Past Recedes” by laura mexia

“2” Roland Weber

“Rain” by Agniribe

“Two women” by Parole Kim