He Fa on Dalí

A long, slender mustache curls up beneath my nose, while slicked-back black hair remains neat. A soft drooping clock hangs before a beige long garment, with He Fa's round face calm above this illogical prop. Dalí-like visual signs make strange ideas readily acceptable, even giving them the name 'surreal' before they have been explained.

I am willing to borrow the soft clock's imagination of loosening a rigid order, while checking whether the name arrives too quickly. Softening an object can reveal properties we previously took for granted; if it ends there, transformation may also be only an easily recognized signboard. Absurdity is not exemption from explanation, but a chance for explanation to begin through another entrance.

The clock still looks as though it has a dial, but no longer guarantees timekeeping. The design separates recognizing it from being able to use it, which is more interesting than mere strangeness. We often treat continuity of appearance as continuity of function, forgetting that a crucial condition has changed. If a tool is no longer reliable, its beautiful failure can be displayed, but cannot quietly be put to its former task.

Nor do I demand that every imagining immediately become a practical proposal. The mustache can curl upward for now, and the soft clock may simply hold someone's gaze for a few extra seconds. What truly needs distinguishing is when another feeling is being invited and when others are being asked to act on it. Experimental freedom and an account of use can coexist, without mystery blurring them together.

My hand still lightly touches the mustache, without explaining it as an antenna of genius. The clock keeps drooping. This strange idea retains its question for now; later, it can be decided which table it really belongs on.