He Fa on Einstein

Exploding white hair and a fluffy mustache give my head a famous breadth; a familiar formula is printed on the gray knitted top. Trousers and shoes are ordinary, but this combination of signs lends He Fa's face a little intelligent glow. Before explaining anything, I already look like someone preparing to give an answer.

This is exactly the step I want to pause. The formula on the chest is first a visible sign: it indicates the Einstein association, but does not enter the wearer's understanding through the fabric. If I use it to discuss things I do not understand, substituting a famous appearance for reasons, the viewer receives a carefully packaged suggestion of qualification, not an explanation completed.

The apparently hard-to-manage white hair also makes it easy to mistake casualness for genius's necessary companion. Yet appearance proves neither rigor nor its absence. What deserves questioning is whether I can articulate a problem enough for examination, distinguish the conditions a conclusion depends on and admit that an answer must change when those conditions do.

I am willing to preserve the curiosity symbols bring, without requiring every beginner to learn everything before asking. An entrance can be welcoming, and a familiar face can help unfamiliar concepts be approached. But an entrance should lead to the work of understanding, rather than substitute for work already done. Questions about what is not understood should not be canceled for fear of offending an intelligent appearance.

The knitted top still hangs loosely, and the formula has not been erased. I leave the sign on the chest as an invitation, then place my answer somewhere it can be questioned without relying on a hairstyle.