Maximilian R. Schlechtinger


Icons, what are they?A visage associated with the trace a human life left behind.They are the visualization of our even out of reach idols and function as something between brand and figure.In Dublin there is a  sculpture of Oscar Wilde located in the Park at Merrion square, near the house he was born in in 1854. it shows him as we know him — and that’s as much a threat as it is truly beautiful.The unfortunate thing is merely that people walk past and occasionally stop to take a selfie with the overly famous writer. Frankly; he would’ve hated it. Thoroughly!He was as much a writer as he was educated and cultivated, as he might have put it — but he wasn’t really this kind of icon.Even traits like arrogance or being rather exquisite don’t play this card. He was an artist who truly understood his craft — and none of his views meant to make his face such an object of display – that will inevitably undermine his words in the public memory leaving him to be only his ery name.All over Dublin there are iconic writers and artists in stone and bronc to display. It appears they got widely degraded into a cheap pass-by tourist attraction.This is a real threat to the art they all did.The things, crafts and words they lived for.What made them unique.Nowadays it is easy to make one’s name appear publicly — positive and negative. But to be existent in trems of standing out remarkably has become a rarity.With every selfie and a dwelling no longer than an instagram post we do our best to neglect their legacy.It is unquestionable that the art world is in a great commercial danger and seemingly ought to live up to the hectic of the western world — whereas art itself works in much more tangled and twisted works and can hardly be catalyst into production.I fear that we neglect what made previous souls so fascinating by trying to apply nowaday-ish rules to them which the can hardly bear.They get forgotten and appear as nothing more than an icon. A face with a quote that is looked at and pondered no longer than a tweet.Up to a certain point in my  life I hadn’t read much of what Oscar Wilde had written (and still have a list on him) but I am firmly familiar with his perception of a writing soul and an educated human being, which served as subtle silver lining on the horizon when I was struggling myself I don’t use is icon, hardly his words but a lot of times I share a great deal of attitude with him. And that makes him human in my mind. A soul having lived, not a displayed icon.


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