I AM CALLED “STORK”
AtaboutthetimeofmiddayprayerIheardaknockatthedoor.ItwasBlalongago,fromourchildhood.Weembraced.HewaschillandIinvitedhiminside.Ididn’tevenaskhowhe’dfoundhiswaytothehouse.HisEnishtemusthavesenthimtoquestionmeaboutElegantEffendi’sabsendhiswhereabouts.Notonlythat,healshtwordfromMasterOsman.“Allowmetoaskyouaquestion,”hesaid.“AcctoMasterOsman,”time“separatesatrueminiaturistfromothers:Thetimeoftheillustration.”Whatweremythoughts?Listenclosely.
PaintingandTimeLongago,asisonknowledge,theillustratorsofourIslamicrealm,including,forexample,theoldArabmasters,perceivingtheworldthewayFrankishinfidelsdotoday,wardeverythingaitfromthelevelofavagabond,muttorclerkatworkinhisshop.Unawareoftoday’sperspectival
teiques,ofwhichtheFrankishmastershaughtilyboast,theirworldremaineddullandlimited,restrictedtothesimpleperspectiveofthemuttortheshopclerk.Theeventcametopassandourentireworldofillustrationged.Letmebeginhere.
ThreeStoriesonPaintingandTimeALIFThreehundredfiftyyearsago,whenBaghdadfelltotheMongolsandwasmercilesslyplunderedonacolddayihofSafar,IbnShakirwasthemostrenorofitcalligrapherandscribenotonlyofthewholeArabworldbutofallIslamdom;despitehisyouth,hehadtranscribedtwenty-twovolumes,mostofwhichwereKoransandcouldbefoundintheworld-famouslibrariesofBaghdad.IbnShakirbelievedthesebookswouldlastuntiltheendoftheworld,and,therefore,livedandinfiionoftime.He’dtoiledheroicallyallthroughthenightbyflickeringdlelightoofthoselegendarybooks,whichareunknowntoustodaybecauseinthespanofafewdays,theywereonebyoornup,shredded,burnedandtossedintotheTigrisRiverbythesoldiersoftheMongolKhanHulagu.JustasthemasterArabcalligraphers,itedtothenotionoftheendlesspersisteraditionandbooks,hadforfiveturiesbeeninthehabitofrestingtheireyesasaprecautionagainstblindnessbyturningtheirbackstotherisingsunandlookingtowardthewesternhorizon,IbnShakirasdedthemiheCaliphetMosqueintheess,andfromthebalywherethemuezzincalledthefaithfultoprayer,witnessedallthatwouldendafive-turies-longtraditionofscribalart.First,hesawHulagu’spitilesssoldiersenterBaghdad,aheremainedwherehethemi.Hewatchedtheplunderaruoftheey,theslaughterofhundredsofthousandsofpeople,thekillingofthelastoftheCaliphsofIslamwho’druledBaghdadforhalfamillennium,therapeofwomen,theburningoflibrariesaruoftensofthousandsofvolumesastheywerethrownintotheTigris.Twodayslater,amidthestenchofcorpsesandcriesofdeath,hewatchedtheflowingwatersoftheTigris,turnedredfromtheinkbleedingoutofthebooks,ahoughtabouthowallthosevolumeshe’dtranscribediifulscript,thosebooksthatwerenowgone,hadn’tintheleastservedtostopthishorrifyingmassaddevastation,andinturn,hesworeowriteagain.Furthermore,hewasstruckwiththedesiretoexpresshispainandthedisasterhe’dwithroughpainting,whitilthatday,he’dbelittledanddeemedanaffronttoAllah;andso,makihepaperhealwayscarriedwithhim,hedepictedwhathesawfromthetopofthemi.Weowethehappymiracleofthethree-hundred-yearrenaissanIslamicillustrationfollowingtheMongolinvasiontothatelementwhichdistinguisheditfromtheartistryofpagansandChristians;thatis,tothetrulyagoniziionoftheworldfromaedGodlikepositionattainedbydrawingherthanahorizonlihisrenaissahehorizonline,andalsotoIbnShakir’sgoingnorthafterthemassacrehewitnessed—inthediretheMongolarmieshadefrom—carryingwithhimhispaintingsandtheambitionforillustrationinhisheart;inbrief,weowemuchtohislearningthepaintingteiquesoftheesemasters.Thereby,itisevidentthatthenotionofeimethathadrestedintheheartsofArabcalligrapher-scribesforfivehundredyearswouldfinallymaselfnotinwriting,butinpainting.TheproofofthisresidesithattheillustrationsinmanuscriptsandvolumesthathadbeentornapartandvanishedhavepassedintootherbooksandothervolumestosurviveforeverintheirrevelationofAllah’sworldlyrealm.
BAOnceuponatime,notsoverylongagoyetnotsoretly,everythingimitatedeverythingelse,andthus,ifningah,manwould’veneverbeenthewiseraboutthepassageoftime.Yes,whentheworldlyrealmeatedlypresehroughthesamestoriesandpictures,asiftimedidnotflow,FahirShah’ssmallarmyroutedSelahattinKhan’ssoldiers—asSalimofSamarkand’sciseHistoryattests.AfterthevictorousFahirShahcapturedSelahattinKhanandtorturedhimtodeath,hisfirsttaskiinghissnty,accto,wastovisitthelibraryandtheharemofthevanquishedkhan.Inthelibrary,thelateSelahattinKhan’sexperiencedbinderpulledapartthedeadshah’sbooks,andrearrangingthepages,begantoassemblenewvolumes.Hiscalligraphersreplacedtheepithetof“AlwaysVictoriousSelahattinKhan”withthatof“VictoriousFahirShah”andhisminiaturistssetaboutreplagthelateSelahattinKhan—masterfullyportrayedobeautifulofmanuscriptpages—whowas,asofthatmoment,startingtofadefrompeople’smemories,withtheportraitoftheyoungerFahirShah.Upoeringtheharem,FahirShahhadnodifficultyinlogthemostbeautifulwomanthere,yetinsteadhimselfuponher,becausehewasarefinedmanversedinbooksandartistry,andresolvingtowinherheart,heengagedherinversation.sequently,NerimanSultaeSelahattinKhan’sbelleofbeauties,histeary-eyedwife,madebutonerequestofFahirShah:thattheillustrationofherhusbandinaversionoftheromanceLeylaandMejnun,whereinLeylaictedasNerimanSultanandMejnunasSelahattinKhan,ered.Ihisonepage,shemaintaiheimmortalitythatherhusbandhadtriedtoattaiheyearsthroughbooksshouldnotbedehevictoriousFahirShahbravelygrahissimplerequestandhismastersofthebookleftthatourealohereby,NerimanandFahirimmediatelymadeloveandwithinashortperiod,fettingthehorrorsofthepast,cametotrulyloveeachother.Still,FahirShahcouldnetthatpictureinLeylaandMejnun.Nay,itwasn’tjealousythatmadehimuneasyorthathiswifeortrayedwithheroldhusband.Whatghimwasthis:Sincehewasn’tpaiheoldlegendinthatsplendidbook,hewouldn’tbeabletojointheranksoftheimmortalswithhiswife.ThiswormofdoubtateatFahirShahforfiveyears,andattheendofablissfulnightofcopiouslovemakingwithNeriman,dlestihaeredthelibrarylikeaonthief,opehevolumeofLeylaandMejnun,andinplaceofthefaeriman’slatehusband,drewhisown.Likemanykhanswhohadaloveforillustratingandpainting,however,hewasanamateurartistandcouldn’tportrayhimselfverywell.Inthem,whenhislibrariahebookonasuspiperingandbeheldanureinplaceofthelateSelahattinKhaoNeriman-facedLeyla,ratherthaifyingitasFahirShah,heannouhatitwasFahirShah’saremy,theyoungandhandsomeAbdullahShah.ThisgossipprovokedFahirShah’ssoldiersandemboldenedAbdullahShah,theyoungandaggressivenewruleroftheneighbtry,who,subsequently,inhisfirstcampaiged,capturedandkilledFahirShah,establishedhisownsntyoverhisenemy’slibraryandharemandbecamethenewhusbandoftheeternallybeautifulNerimanSultan.
DJIMTheminiaturistsofIstanbulretthelegendofTallMehmet—knownasMuhammadKhorasaniinPersia—mostlyasanexampleoflonglifeandblindness.However,thelegendofTallMehmetis
essentiallyaparableofpaintingandtime.Theprimarydistinofthismaster,who,havingbegunhisapprenticeshipattheageofnine,illustratedformoreorless110yearswithoutgoingblind,washislackofdistin.I’mnotbeingwittyhere,butexpressingmysincereadmiration.TallMehmetdreweverything,aseveryoneelsedid,iyleofthegreatmastersofold,butevenmoreso,andforthisreasohegreatestofallmasters.Hishumblenessandpletedevotiontoillustrationandpainting,whichhedeemedaservicetoAllah,sethimaboveboththedisputeswithinthebook-artsworkshopswhereheworkedandtheambitiontobeeheadminiaturist,thoughhewasofappropriateageandtalent.Asaminiaturist,for110years,hepatientlyrenderedeverytrivialdetail:grassdrawntofilluptheedgesofthepage,thousandsofleaves,curlywispingclouds,horsemanesofshortrepetitivestrokes,brickwalls,never-endingwallorionandtheslant-eyed,delicate-edtensofthousandsoffacesthatwereeaimitationofoher.TallMehmetwasquitetentandreservedandheneverpresumedtodistinguishhimselforinsistedaboutstyleorindividuality.Hesideredwhicheverkhan’sorprince’sworkshophehappeobewinatthetimehishouseandregardedhimselfasbutafixtureinthathome.Askhansandshahsstrangledoherandminiaturistsmovedfromcitytocitylikethewomenoftheharemtoassembleuheauspicesofnewmasters,thestyleofthenewbook-artsworkshopwouldfirstbedefiheleavesTallMehmetdrew,inhisgrass,inthecurvesofhisrodinthehiddentoursofhisownpatience.Whenhewaseightyyearsold,peoplefotthathewasmortalaobelievethathelivedwithinthelegendsheillustrated.Perhapsforthisreason,somemaintaihatheexistedoutsidetimeandwouldnevergrowoldaherewerethosewhoattributedhisnotgoingblielivingwithoutahomeofhisown,sleepingintheroomsortentswhistitutedminiaturists’workshopsandspendingmostofhistimestaringatmanuscriptpages—tothemiraehavingceasedtoflowforhim.Someclaimedthathewasactuallyblind,andnolongerhadaoseesincehepaintedfrommemory.Attheageof119,thislegendarymasterwho’dnevermarriedandhadneverevenmadelove,mettheflesh-and-bloodidealofthebeautifulslant-eyed,sharp-ed,moon-facedboyhe’ddepictedforatury:apart-esepart-Croatiansixteen-year-oldapprentiShahTahmasp’sminiaturists’workshop,withwhomquiteabruptlyanduandably,hefellinlove.Ioseducethisboy-apprenticeofunimaginablebeauty,asatrueloverwoulddo,heschemedandjoinedirugglesbetweenminiaturists;hegavehimselfovertolyiionandtrickery.Atfirst,themasterminiaturistofKhorasanwasinvigoratedbyhisattemptstocatchuptotheartisticfashionshe’dsuccessfullyavoidedforonehundredyears,butthiseffortalsodivorcedhimfromtheeternallegendarydaysofold.Lateoernoon,staringdreamilyatthebeautifulapprenticebeforeanopenwindow,hecaughtcoldiabrizwind.Thefollowingday,duringafitofsneezipletelyblind.Twodayslater,hefelldowystoneworkshopstairsanddied.
“I’veheardtheallMehmetofKhorasan,butI’veneverheardthislegend,”Blacksaid.
HedelicatelyofferedthisenttoshowhekhestorywasfinishedandhismindwasoccupiedwithwhatI’drelated.Ifellsilentforatimesohecouldstareatmetohisheart’stent.Sibothersmewhenmyhandsarenotoccupied,justafterbeginningthesedstory,Istartedtopaintagain,pigupwhereI’dleftoffwhenBlaockedonthedoor.MyelyapprenticeMahmut,whoalwayssatatmykneeandmixedmypaints,sharpenedmyreedpensandsometimeserasedmyerrors,silentlysatbesideme,listeningandstaring;fromwithinthehousethesoundsofmywife’s
movementscouldbeheard.
“Aahaa,”saidBlack,“theSultanhasarisen.”
Hestaredatthepaintingwitharetehereasonforhisawewasinsignifit,butletmetellyoudidly:OurExaltedSultanappearsseatedinalltwohundredofourcircumcisionceremonypicturesintheBookofFestivities,watgforfifty-twodaysthepassingofthemerts,guilds,spectators,soldiersandprisonersfromthewindowoftheroyalenclosureerectedfortheoccasion.OnlyiureofmineisHeshownonfoot,tossingmoneyfromflorin-filledpouchestothecrowdsinthesquare.Myaimwastocapturethesurpriseaementofthecrowdspung,kigandstrangliherastheyscrambledtograbsofftheground,theirassesjuttingtowardthesky.
“Ifloveispartofthesubjectofthepainting,thewhttoberehlove,”Isaid.“Ifthere’spaininvolved,painshouldissuefromthepaintihepainoughttefromtheatfirstglanvisibleyetdisibleinnerharmonyofthepicture,notfromthefiguresintheillustrationorfromtheirtears.Ididsurprise,asithasbeenshownforturiesbyhundredsofmasterminiaturists,asafigurewithhisindexfingeriedintothecircleofhismouth,butmadethewholepaintingembodysurprise.This,IaplishedbyinvitingtheSntorisetoHisfeet.”
Iwasintriguedandbotheredbyhowhescrutinizedmypossessionsandillustratingtools,naymywholelife,lookingforaclue;andtheoseemyownhousethroughhiseyes.
Youknowthosepalace,hamamandcastlepicturesthatweremadeinTabrizandShirazforatime;sothatthepicturemightreplicatethepierggazeofExaltedAllah,whoseesanduandsall,theminiaturistwoulddepictthepalacross-seasthoughhavingcutitinhalfwithahuge,magicalstraightrazor,andhe’dpaintalltheinteriordetails—whichcouldotherwiseneverbeseenfromoutside—downtothepotsandpans,drinkingglasses,wallorion,curtains,cagedparrots,themostprivateers,andthepillowsonwhichreedalovelymaidensuchashadneverseenthelightofday.Likeacuriousawestruckreader,Blackwasexaminingmypaints,mypapers,mybooks,mylovelyassistant,thepagesofaBookofesandthecollagealbumthatI’dmadeforaFrankishtraveler,sesoffugandotheripagesI’dsecretlydashedoffforapasha,myinkpotsofvariouslyclass,bronzeandceramic,myivorypenknives,mygold-stemmedbrushes,aheglanyhandsomeapprentice.
“Uheoldmasters,I’veseenalotofbattle,alot,”Isaidtofillthesilehmypresence.“Warmaes,onballs,armies,corpses;itwasIwhoembellishedtheceilingsofthetentsofOurSultanandenerals.Afteramilitarycampaign,upourningtoIstanbul,itwasIwhorecordedinpicturesthesesofbattlethateveryonewouldotherwisehavefotten,corpsesslitwo,theclashofopposingarmies,thesoldiersofthemiserableinfidelsquakingbeforeouroroopsdefendingtheellatedtowersofbesiegedcastles,rebelsbeingdecapitatedandthefuryofhorsesattagatfullgallop.IiteverythingIbeholdtomemory:anewcoffeegrinder,astyleofwindowgratingthatI’veneverseenbefore,aoriggerofayleofFrankishrifle,hatcolor
robeduri,whoatewhat,whoplacedhishandwhereandhow…”
“Whatarethemoralsofthethreestoriesyou’vetold?”askedBlaamahatsummedeverythingupandeversoslightlycalledmetoat.
“Alif,”Isaid.“Thefirststorywiththemidemonstratesthatnomatterhowtalentedaminiaturistmightbe,itistimethatmakesapicture”perfect.“”Ba,“thesedstorywiththeharemandthelibrary,revealsthattheonlywaytoescapetimeisthroughskillandillustrating.Asforthethirdstory,youproceedtotellme,then.”
“Djim!”saidBlafidently,“thethirdstoryabouttheone-hundred-and-een-year-oldminiaturistunites”Alif“and”Ba‘torevealhowtimeendsfortheonewhoforsakestheperfectlifeandperfectilluminating,leavingnothingbutdeath.Ihisiswhatitdemonstrates.松语文学www.16sy.coM免费小说阅读
PaintingandTimeLongago,asisonknowledge,theillustratorsofourIslamicrealm,including,forexample,theoldArabmasters,perceivingtheworldthewayFrankishinfidelsdotoday,wardeverythingaitfromthelevelofavagabond,muttorclerkatworkinhisshop.Unawareoftoday’sperspectival
teiques,ofwhichtheFrankishmastershaughtilyboast,theirworldremaineddullandlimited,restrictedtothesimpleperspectiveofthemuttortheshopclerk.Theeventcametopassandourentireworldofillustrationged.Letmebeginhere.
ThreeStoriesonPaintingandTimeALIFThreehundredfiftyyearsago,whenBaghdadfelltotheMongolsandwasmercilesslyplunderedonacolddayihofSafar,IbnShakirwasthemostrenorofitcalligrapherandscribenotonlyofthewholeArabworldbutofallIslamdom;despitehisyouth,hehadtranscribedtwenty-twovolumes,mostofwhichwereKoransandcouldbefoundintheworld-famouslibrariesofBaghdad.IbnShakirbelievedthesebookswouldlastuntiltheendoftheworld,and,therefore,livedandinfiionoftime.He’dtoiledheroicallyallthroughthenightbyflickeringdlelightoofthoselegendarybooks,whichareunknowntoustodaybecauseinthespanofafewdays,theywereonebyoornup,shredded,burnedandtossedintotheTigrisRiverbythesoldiersoftheMongolKhanHulagu.JustasthemasterArabcalligraphers,itedtothenotionoftheendlesspersisteraditionandbooks,hadforfiveturiesbeeninthehabitofrestingtheireyesasaprecautionagainstblindnessbyturningtheirbackstotherisingsunandlookingtowardthewesternhorizon,IbnShakirasdedthemiheCaliphetMosqueintheess,andfromthebalywherethemuezzincalledthefaithfultoprayer,witnessedallthatwouldendafive-turies-longtraditionofscribalart.First,hesawHulagu’spitilesssoldiersenterBaghdad,aheremainedwherehethemi.Hewatchedtheplunderaruoftheey,theslaughterofhundredsofthousandsofpeople,thekillingofthelastoftheCaliphsofIslamwho’druledBaghdadforhalfamillennium,therapeofwomen,theburningoflibrariesaruoftensofthousandsofvolumesastheywerethrownintotheTigris.Twodayslater,amidthestenchofcorpsesandcriesofdeath,hewatchedtheflowingwatersoftheTigris,turnedredfromtheinkbleedingoutofthebooks,ahoughtabouthowallthosevolumeshe’dtranscribediifulscript,thosebooksthatwerenowgone,hadn’tintheleastservedtostopthishorrifyingmassaddevastation,andinturn,hesworeowriteagain.Furthermore,hewasstruckwiththedesiretoexpresshispainandthedisasterhe’dwithroughpainting,whitilthatday,he’dbelittledanddeemedanaffronttoAllah;andso,makihepaperhealwayscarriedwithhim,hedepictedwhathesawfromthetopofthemi.Weowethehappymiracleofthethree-hundred-yearrenaissanIslamicillustrationfollowingtheMongolinvasiontothatelementwhichdistinguisheditfromtheartistryofpagansandChristians;thatis,tothetrulyagoniziionoftheworldfromaedGodlikepositionattainedbydrawingherthanahorizonlihisrenaissahehorizonline,andalsotoIbnShakir’sgoingnorthafterthemassacrehewitnessed—inthediretheMongolarmieshadefrom—carryingwithhimhispaintingsandtheambitionforillustrationinhisheart;inbrief,weowemuchtohislearningthepaintingteiquesoftheesemasters.Thereby,itisevidentthatthenotionofeimethathadrestedintheheartsofArabcalligrapher-scribesforfivehundredyearswouldfinallymaselfnotinwriting,butinpainting.TheproofofthisresidesithattheillustrationsinmanuscriptsandvolumesthathadbeentornapartandvanishedhavepassedintootherbooksandothervolumestosurviveforeverintheirrevelationofAllah’sworldlyrealm.
BAOnceuponatime,notsoverylongagoyetnotsoretly,everythingimitatedeverythingelse,andthus,ifningah,manwould’veneverbeenthewiseraboutthepassageoftime.Yes,whentheworldlyrealmeatedlypresehroughthesamestoriesandpictures,asiftimedidnotflow,FahirShah’ssmallarmyroutedSelahattinKhan’ssoldiers—asSalimofSamarkand’sciseHistoryattests.AfterthevictorousFahirShahcapturedSelahattinKhanandtorturedhimtodeath,hisfirsttaskiinghissnty,accto,wastovisitthelibraryandtheharemofthevanquishedkhan.Inthelibrary,thelateSelahattinKhan’sexperiencedbinderpulledapartthedeadshah’sbooks,andrearrangingthepages,begantoassemblenewvolumes.Hiscalligraphersreplacedtheepithetof“AlwaysVictoriousSelahattinKhan”withthatof“VictoriousFahirShah”andhisminiaturistssetaboutreplagthelateSelahattinKhan—masterfullyportrayedobeautifulofmanuscriptpages—whowas,asofthatmoment,startingtofadefrompeople’smemories,withtheportraitoftheyoungerFahirShah.Upoeringtheharem,FahirShahhadnodifficultyinlogthemostbeautifulwomanthere,yetinsteadhimselfuponher,becausehewasarefinedmanversedinbooksandartistry,andresolvingtowinherheart,heengagedherinversation.sequently,NerimanSultaeSelahattinKhan’sbelleofbeauties,histeary-eyedwife,madebutonerequestofFahirShah:thattheillustrationofherhusbandinaversionoftheromanceLeylaandMejnun,whereinLeylaictedasNerimanSultanandMejnunasSelahattinKhan,ered.Ihisonepage,shemaintaiheimmortalitythatherhusbandhadtriedtoattaiheyearsthroughbooksshouldnotbedehevictoriousFahirShahbravelygrahissimplerequestandhismastersofthebookleftthatourealohereby,NerimanandFahirimmediatelymadeloveandwithinashortperiod,fettingthehorrorsofthepast,cametotrulyloveeachother.Still,FahirShahcouldnetthatpictureinLeylaandMejnun.Nay,itwasn’tjealousythatmadehimuneasyorthathiswifeortrayedwithheroldhusband.Whatghimwasthis:Sincehewasn’tpaiheoldlegendinthatsplendidbook,hewouldn’tbeabletojointheranksoftheimmortalswithhiswife.ThiswormofdoubtateatFahirShahforfiveyears,andattheendofablissfulnightofcopiouslovemakingwithNeriman,dlestihaeredthelibrarylikeaonthief,opehevolumeofLeylaandMejnun,andinplaceofthefaeriman’slatehusband,drewhisown.Likemanykhanswhohadaloveforillustratingandpainting,however,hewasanamateurartistandcouldn’tportrayhimselfverywell.Inthem,whenhislibrariahebookonasuspiperingandbeheldanureinplaceofthelateSelahattinKhaoNeriman-facedLeyla,ratherthaifyingitasFahirShah,heannouhatitwasFahirShah’saremy,theyoungandhandsomeAbdullahShah.ThisgossipprovokedFahirShah’ssoldiersandemboldenedAbdullahShah,theyoungandaggressivenewruleroftheneighbtry,who,subsequently,inhisfirstcampaiged,capturedandkilledFahirShah,establishedhisownsntyoverhisenemy’slibraryandharemandbecamethenewhusbandoftheeternallybeautifulNerimanSultan.
DJIMTheminiaturistsofIstanbulretthelegendofTallMehmet—knownasMuhammadKhorasaniinPersia—mostlyasanexampleoflonglifeandblindness.However,thelegendofTallMehmetis
essentiallyaparableofpaintingandtime.Theprimarydistinofthismaster,who,havingbegunhisapprenticeshipattheageofnine,illustratedformoreorless110yearswithoutgoingblind,washislackofdistin.I’mnotbeingwittyhere,butexpressingmysincereadmiration.TallMehmetdreweverything,aseveryoneelsedid,iyleofthegreatmastersofold,butevenmoreso,andforthisreasohegreatestofallmasters.Hishumblenessandpletedevotiontoillustrationandpainting,whichhedeemedaservicetoAllah,sethimaboveboththedisputeswithinthebook-artsworkshopswhereheworkedandtheambitiontobeeheadminiaturist,thoughhewasofappropriateageandtalent.Asaminiaturist,for110years,hepatientlyrenderedeverytrivialdetail:grassdrawntofilluptheedgesofthepage,thousandsofleaves,curlywispingclouds,horsemanesofshortrepetitivestrokes,brickwalls,never-endingwallorionandtheslant-eyed,delicate-edtensofthousandsoffacesthatwereeaimitationofoher.TallMehmetwasquitetentandreservedandheneverpresumedtodistinguishhimselforinsistedaboutstyleorindividuality.Hesideredwhicheverkhan’sorprince’sworkshophehappeobewinatthetimehishouseandregardedhimselfasbutafixtureinthathome.Askhansandshahsstrangledoherandminiaturistsmovedfromcitytocitylikethewomenoftheharemtoassembleuheauspicesofnewmasters,thestyleofthenewbook-artsworkshopwouldfirstbedefiheleavesTallMehmetdrew,inhisgrass,inthecurvesofhisrodinthehiddentoursofhisownpatience.Whenhewaseightyyearsold,peoplefotthathewasmortalaobelievethathelivedwithinthelegendsheillustrated.Perhapsforthisreason,somemaintaihatheexistedoutsidetimeandwouldnevergrowoldaherewerethosewhoattributedhisnotgoingblielivingwithoutahomeofhisown,sleepingintheroomsortentswhistitutedminiaturists’workshopsandspendingmostofhistimestaringatmanuscriptpages—tothemiraehavingceasedtoflowforhim.Someclaimedthathewasactuallyblind,andnolongerhadaoseesincehepaintedfrommemory.Attheageof119,thislegendarymasterwho’dnevermarriedandhadneverevenmadelove,mettheflesh-and-bloodidealofthebeautifulslant-eyed,sharp-ed,moon-facedboyhe’ddepictedforatury:apart-esepart-Croatiansixteen-year-oldapprentiShahTahmasp’sminiaturists’workshop,withwhomquiteabruptlyanduandably,hefellinlove.Ioseducethisboy-apprenticeofunimaginablebeauty,asatrueloverwoulddo,heschemedandjoinedirugglesbetweenminiaturists;hegavehimselfovertolyiionandtrickery.Atfirst,themasterminiaturistofKhorasanwasinvigoratedbyhisattemptstocatchuptotheartisticfashionshe’dsuccessfullyavoidedforonehundredyears,butthiseffortalsodivorcedhimfromtheeternallegendarydaysofold.Lateoernoon,staringdreamilyatthebeautifulapprenticebeforeanopenwindow,hecaughtcoldiabrizwind.Thefollowingday,duringafitofsneezipletelyblind.Twodayslater,hefelldowystoneworkshopstairsanddied.
“I’veheardtheallMehmetofKhorasan,butI’veneverheardthislegend,”Blacksaid.
HedelicatelyofferedthisenttoshowhekhestorywasfinishedandhismindwasoccupiedwithwhatI’drelated.Ifellsilentforatimesohecouldstareatmetohisheart’stent.Sibothersmewhenmyhandsarenotoccupied,justafterbeginningthesedstory,Istartedtopaintagain,pigupwhereI’dleftoffwhenBlaockedonthedoor.MyelyapprenticeMahmut,whoalwayssatatmykneeandmixedmypaints,sharpenedmyreedpensandsometimeserasedmyerrors,silentlysatbesideme,listeningandstaring;fromwithinthehousethesoundsofmywife’s
movementscouldbeheard.
“Aahaa,”saidBlack,“theSultanhasarisen.”
Hestaredatthepaintingwitharetehereasonforhisawewasinsignifit,butletmetellyoudidly:OurExaltedSultanappearsseatedinalltwohundredofourcircumcisionceremonypicturesintheBookofFestivities,watgforfifty-twodaysthepassingofthemerts,guilds,spectators,soldiersandprisonersfromthewindowoftheroyalenclosureerectedfortheoccasion.OnlyiureofmineisHeshownonfoot,tossingmoneyfromflorin-filledpouchestothecrowdsinthesquare.Myaimwastocapturethesurpriseaementofthecrowdspung,kigandstrangliherastheyscrambledtograbsofftheground,theirassesjuttingtowardthesky.
“Ifloveispartofthesubjectofthepainting,thewhttoberehlove,”Isaid.“Ifthere’spaininvolved,painshouldissuefromthepaintihepainoughttefromtheatfirstglanvisibleyetdisibleinnerharmonyofthepicture,notfromthefiguresintheillustrationorfromtheirtears.Ididsurprise,asithasbeenshownforturiesbyhundredsofmasterminiaturists,asafigurewithhisindexfingeriedintothecircleofhismouth,butmadethewholepaintingembodysurprise.This,IaplishedbyinvitingtheSntorisetoHisfeet.”
Iwasintriguedandbotheredbyhowhescrutinizedmypossessionsandillustratingtools,naymywholelife,lookingforaclue;andtheoseemyownhousethroughhiseyes.
Youknowthosepalace,hamamandcastlepicturesthatweremadeinTabrizandShirazforatime;sothatthepicturemightreplicatethepierggazeofExaltedAllah,whoseesanduandsall,theminiaturistwoulddepictthepalacross-seasthoughhavingcutitinhalfwithahuge,magicalstraightrazor,andhe’dpaintalltheinteriordetails—whichcouldotherwiseneverbeseenfromoutside—downtothepotsandpans,drinkingglasses,wallorion,curtains,cagedparrots,themostprivateers,andthepillowsonwhichreedalovelymaidensuchashadneverseenthelightofday.Likeacuriousawestruckreader,Blackwasexaminingmypaints,mypapers,mybooks,mylovelyassistant,thepagesofaBookofesandthecollagealbumthatI’dmadeforaFrankishtraveler,sesoffugandotheripagesI’dsecretlydashedoffforapasha,myinkpotsofvariouslyclass,bronzeandceramic,myivorypenknives,mygold-stemmedbrushes,aheglanyhandsomeapprentice.
“Uheoldmasters,I’veseenalotofbattle,alot,”Isaidtofillthesilehmypresence.“Warmaes,onballs,armies,corpses;itwasIwhoembellishedtheceilingsofthetentsofOurSultanandenerals.Afteramilitarycampaign,upourningtoIstanbul,itwasIwhorecordedinpicturesthesesofbattlethateveryonewouldotherwisehavefotten,corpsesslitwo,theclashofopposingarmies,thesoldiersofthemiserableinfidelsquakingbeforeouroroopsdefendingtheellatedtowersofbesiegedcastles,rebelsbeingdecapitatedandthefuryofhorsesattagatfullgallop.IiteverythingIbeholdtomemory:anewcoffeegrinder,astyleofwindowgratingthatI’veneverseenbefore,aoriggerofayleofFrankishrifle,hatcolor
robeduri,whoatewhat,whoplacedhishandwhereandhow…”
“Whatarethemoralsofthethreestoriesyou’vetold?”askedBlaamahatsummedeverythingupandeversoslightlycalledmetoat.
“Alif,”Isaid.“Thefirststorywiththemidemonstratesthatnomatterhowtalentedaminiaturistmightbe,itistimethatmakesapicture”perfect.“”Ba,“thesedstorywiththeharemandthelibrary,revealsthattheonlywaytoescapetimeisthroughskillandillustrating.Asforthethirdstory,youproceedtotellme,then.”
“Djim!”saidBlafidently,“thethirdstoryabouttheone-hundred-and-een-year-oldminiaturistunites”Alif“and”Ba‘torevealhowtimeendsfortheonewhoforsakestheperfectlifeandperfectilluminating,leavingnothingbutdeath.Ihisiswhatitdemonstrates.松语文学www.16sy.coM免费小说阅读
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