He Fa on Brancusi

Large flat lapels spread across the pale gray jacket, with a pale shirt, dark tie and a V-shaped inner neckline beneath. Brancusi's outfit has quite a few layers, which makes me want to borrow it for an exercise in subtraction: if they are removed one by one, at what point is there reason to say that what remains comes closer to a person's essence?

Subtraction always depends on use. For coolness, remove a layer; for recognition, emphasize an outline; for easier washing, remove ornament. Every simplification gains something and loses something else. Without stating its task, declaring that less is truer hides a personal preference inside a universal standard, leaving complex people to be treated as merely not yet put in order.

He Fa's face makes the exercise less straightforward. Even with every layer simplified, broad cheeks, a round nose and scattered beard will not naturally combine into a clean sign. I am willing to retain these parts that resist summary, because recognition of a person need not depend on the simplest outline alone. Sometimes looseness at the edges produces a specific distinction between similar faces.

The counterexample is clear as well: refuse to remove anything, and the whole may become mere accumulation. Readers cannot find an entrance, and wearers struggle to move. The answer need not be a single core; it may be different scales for different tasks. Let the shape be clear from afar while details remain available close up. A synopsis need not replace the main text, and the main text need not force every encounter to begin at its first line.

I keep these layers of neckline for now, letting them carry an unfinished subtraction. Which one to remove can be decided once the need is clear. The clothes need not prove what purity means. They need only make an action easier without quietly erasing relationships that still matter.