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his picture on the branch of a plane tree; Sheikh Ali R?za from Shiraz had
drawn distinctly all the leaves of the tree one by one so they filled the entire
sky。 In answer to a fool who saw the work and mented that the true
subject of the illustration wasn’t the plane tree; Sheikh Ali replied that the true
subject wasn’t the passion of the beautiful young maiden either; it was the
passion of the artist; and to proudly prove his point he attempted to paint the
same plane tree with all its leaves on a grain of rice。 If the signature hidden
beneath the beautiful feet of Shirin’s darling lady attendants hadn’t misled
me; I was of course seeing the magnificent tree made by the blind master on
paper—not the tree made on a grain of rice; which he left half finished; having
gone blind seven years and three months after he started the task。 On another
page; Rüstem blinding Alexander with his forked arrow was depicted in the
manner of artists who knew the Indian style; so vivaciously and colorfully; that
338
blindness; the ageless sorrow and secret desire of the genuine miniaturist;
appeared to the observer as the prologue to a joyous celebration。
My eyes wandered over these pictures and volumes; no less with the
excitement of one who wanted to behold for himself these legends he’d heard
about for years than with the worry of an old man who sensed he would soon
enough never see anything more。 There; in the cold Treasury room suffused
with a dark red that I’d never seen before—caused by the color of the cloth
and dust within the peculiar light of the candles—I would occasionally cry out
in admiration; whereupon Black and the dwarf would rush to my side and
look over my shoulder at the magnificent page before me。 Unable to restrain
myself; I’d begin to explain:
“This color red belongs to the great master Mirza Baba Imami from Tabriz;
the secret of which he took with him to the grave。 He’s used it for the edges of
the carpet; the red of Alevi allegiance on the Persian Shah’s turban; and look;
it’s here on the belly of the lion on this page and on this pretty boy’s caftan。
Allah never directly revealed this fine red except when He let the blood of his
subjects flow。 So that we might wearily strive to find this variety of red that is
only visible to the naked eye on man…made cloth and in the pictures of the
greatest of masters; God did; however; consign its secret to the rarest of insects
living beneath stones;” I said and added; “Thanks be to Him who has now
revealed it to us。”
“Look at this;” I said much later; once again unable to refrain from showing
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