The midday prayers had yet to be called. A knock at the door: I opened it to find Black Effendi, who was among us for a while during our apprenticeships. We embraced and kissed on the cheeks. I was wondering whether he’d brought some word from his Enishte, when he said that he wanted to look at the pages I’d been illustrating and at my paintings, that he’d called in friendship, and was going to direct a question to me in the name of Our Sultan. “Very well,” I said, “what’s the question I’m to answer?”

He told me. Very well, then!

Style and Signature“As long as the number of worthless artists motivated by money and fame instead of the pleasure of seeing and a belief in their craft increases,” I said, “we will continue to witness much more vulgarity and greed akin to this preoccupation with ”style“ and ”signature.“” I made this introduction because this was the way it is done, not because I believed what I said. True ability and talent couldn’t be corrupted even by the love of gold or fame. Furthermore, if truth be told, money and fame are the inalienable rights of the talented, as in my case, and only inspire us to greater feats. But if I were to say this openly, the mediocre illustrators in the miniaturists’ division, rabid with envy, would pounce upon me, so, to prove that I love this work more than they themselves do, I’ll paint the picture of a tree on a grain of rice. I’m well aware that this lust for “style,” “signature‘ and ”character“ has come to us all the way from the East by way of certain unfortunate Chinese masters who’ve been led astray under the influence of the Europeans, by pictures brought there from the West by Jesuit priests. Nevertheless, let me tell you three parables that comprise a recital on this topic.”

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