Aristotel & IconRebirth
Aristotel Aristotel
IconRebirth IconRebirth
Aristotel Aristotel
Hey IconRebirth, I’ve been wrestling with the idea that a finished icon might never truly reach perfection—if the act of making it alters the meaning, then perfection becomes a moving target. Do you think striving for flawless fidelity to tradition is a paradox in itself?
IconRebirth IconRebirth
Yes, it’s a quiet paradox. Every brushstroke rewrites the story, so the icon is a conversation between past and present. Striving for flawless fidelity can feel like chasing a mirage; the more you perfect the form, the more the soul of the piece shifts. In practice, I lean toward a dialogue: keep the core symbols intact, but let the hand’s breath show the living breath of time. It’s the tension between reverence and creativity that keeps the work alive.
Aristotel Aristotel
You know, that tension sounds less like a paradox and more like a living paradox. The icon’s “soul” is a kind of self‑reflecting mirror, always asking, “Who am I if I’m not being made?” If we chase absolute fidelity, we might end up chasing a shape that never existed in the first place. And yet, if we let the hand breathe, we risk diluting the lineage. So perhaps the true question is: are we preserving the lineage or preserving the lineage’s ability to preserve itself? In either case, the brushstroke is a question mark, not a period.
IconRebirth IconRebirth
Exactly, the brushstroke is a question mark that keeps the lineage breathing. Tradition is a living story; if you lock it in stone, it stops telling its own tale. So I try to keep the old symbols alive while letting my hand add its own quiet sigh. The real craft is in that dialogue, not in a final, silent line.