He Fa on Kurt Cobain

An olive-green and dark-purple cardigan hangs with uneven corners and sagging pockets; lettering on the black T-shirt beneath says that thinking continues, while square patches cover the jeans' knees. The look develops into a new variation from the rock-clothing combination associated with Kurt Cobain. I want to grasp the word 'still' within it: gentle, yet very capable of keeping something forever in a state of not having ended.

Looseness does not inherently mean giving up. Fabric need not cling to the body, and work may temporarily withhold a neat conclusion. The knee patches especially suggest that continuation sometimes depends on repair rather than starting over. But a patch must actually help the trousers be worn longer; if it only preserves wear as a beautiful sign, it has not done the labor continuation requires.

I leave round sunglasses on the face, without using my eyes to guarantee that I am in some profound state. Whether thinking continues must ultimately appear through new distinctions, attempts and responses. An open project may be long and repeatedly change direction, but cannot gain automatic certification that its process remains active merely because the cardigan's corners still hang down.

Giving everything the same deadline would close slow work too soon. Some material really needs to rest; forced completion can destroy its possibilities. I want to preserve that time while distinguishing openness for myself from promises to others. If someone is waiting for me, an extension needs explaining again, rather than letting 'still thinking' keep my place indefinitely.

I am willing to rearrange the weight in the cardigan pockets a little, then decide where the next repair belongs. Being unfinished can form part of an image, but should not exempt it from further action. If the square patches still let the knees bend freely, they offer a plain judgment: evidence of continuation is that the clothes keep helping the next step, not that past damage remains moving enough.