Last week, Russian mathematician Grigory Perelman made international news when he refused to fly to Madrid, Spain, to accept the Fields Medal for his contributions to a proof of the Poincare Conjecture. His proof of one of the most puzzling math problems in the last century has withstood more than three years of scrutiny.

Of course, part of the news is that Perelman is being honored in the first place. The Fields Medal is only issued once every four years, and the progress made on the Poincare Conjecture since Perelman posted the first of three parts of his proof online in November 2002 could settle a century-old hole in topology.

Even understanding the conjecture requires a firm grasp of high-level mathematics: A short explanation of the conjecture on the scientific encyclopedia MathWorld goes something like “every simply connected closed three-manifold is homeomorphic to the three-sphere. … More colloquially, the conjecture says that the three-sphere is the only type of bounded three-dimensional space possible that contains no holes.”

But the most latched-to aspect of the story was Perelman’s relative disappearance from mathematical collaboration, and his refusal to accept the award that has only been offered to 47 other mathematicians since 1936.

A recent report on the affair in the Aug. 28 New Yorker (cleverly titled “Manifold Destiny”) paints a portrait of Perelman as a scientist in the classical mold. He’s not so much interested in his individual residue on the potential theorem, but in simply staying true to the field and helping grasp a problem that could have far-reaching consequences on other geometries, relativity and cosmology.

“To do great work, you have to have a pure mind,” Russian mathematician Mikhail Gromov told New Yorker reporters Sylvia Nasar and David Gruber. “You can only think about mathematics. Everything else is human weakness.”

Gromov was being a bit dramatic, but the goal he mentions is pretty noble.

In a world where folks are always looking to sell themselves, Perelman’s gesture is powerful. It’s old-school, reclusive genius at its finest.

Which is why math students will be studying the Perelman Theorem long after the legacies of any politician, any celebrity, any convict — most any name that regularly graces the front pages these days.