He Fa on Nietzsche

A large spreading moustache covers the upper lip, while swept-back hair also raises the outline high above the forehead. One hand supports my temple, the other arm crosses the chest and abdomen, and the coarse wool coat extends down the full figure. This Nietzsche study gives the mouth an extensive supporting infrastructure, which makes me want to try saying one sentence quietly instead.

A moustache readily supplies character in advance, as though only decisive, sharp, uncompromising sentences belong beneath it. But moving from appearance to tone, then from tone to correctness, makes two unsupported leaps. Someone with a thick moustache may say they do not know today, or gently point out a serious problem. Visual volume cannot dictate a sentence's content.

He Fa's broad cheeks remain beside the large moustache, and the supporting hand looks everyday, as if waiting for words to form. I want this lack of grandeur to remain, keeping the borrowed outline of a famous person from displacing ordinary needs. Serious people may want water; tough people may be tired. A difficulty spoken quietly need not first become a declaration to receive attention.

Lowering the volume can also prevent important information from arriving. If the surroundings continually ignore quiet speech, simply asking speakers to be calmer leaves them bearing the cost of expression. It is not only the speaker's mouth that needs adjusting: will listeners come closer, pause and check? Restraint without corresponding listening merely makes silence appear better mannered.

So I let the moustache remain extravagant and keep the sentences plainer. The hand against my face need not explain how deep my thinking is; it simply supports the body. Once a quiet sentence has actually been heard, I can decide whether the voice needs raising, without letting the moustache shout everything for me from the outset.