Yet it wasn’t him I pitied; but myself now。
“If you tell us before the blood clots in your eyes; in the morning you can
look upon the world to your heart’s content one last time;” said Black。 “See;
the rain has eased。”
“”Let’s go back to the coffeehouse;“ I said to Elegant; but sensed at once
that he didn’t like it there; and even that it frightened him。 This was how I
first knew Elegant Effendi had broken from us pletely and had gone his
separate way after painting with us for twenty…five years。 In the last eight or
ten years; after he married; I’d see him at the workshop; but I didn’t even
know what he was occupied with…He told me he saw the last picture; how it
contained a sin so grave we’d never live it down。 As a consequence; he
maintained; we’d all burn in Hell。 He was agitated and possessed by fear;
overe with the sense of devastation felt by a man who’d unwittingly
mitted heresy。”
“What heresy?”
“When I asked him this very question; he opened his eyes wide in surprise
as if to say; You mean you don’t know? It was then I thought how our friend
had aged; as have we all。 He said unfortunate Enishte had brazenly used the
perspectival method in the last picture。 In this picture; objects weren’t
depicted according to their importance in Allah’s mind; but as they appeared
to the naked eye—the way the Franks painted。 This was the first transgression。
The second was depicting Our Sultan; the Caliph of Islam; the same size as a
dog。 The third transgression also involved rendering Satan the same size; and
in an endearing light。 But what surpassed them all—a natural result of
introducing this Frankish understanding into our painting—was drawing Our
Sultan’s picture as large as life and his face in all its detail! Just like the
423
idolators do…Or just like the ”portraits’ that Christians; who couldn’t save
themselves from their inherent idolatrous tendencies; painted upon their
church walls and worshiped。 Elegant Effendi; who learned of portraits from
your Enishte; knew this quite well; and believed correctly that portraiture was
the greatest of sins; and would be the downfall of Muslim painting。 As we
hadn’t gone to the coffeehouse; where; he claimed; our exalted Preacher
Effendi and our religion were being maligned; he explained all this to me while
we walked down the street。 Occasionally; he’d stop; as though seeking help;
ask me whether all of this was indeed correct; whether there wasn’t any
recourse and whether we’d