ets； greaves； bows； quivers and arrows and

had mounted those magnificent； legendary and fully armored horses。 Before

they　engaged　one　another　in　a　battle　to　the　death；　they　were　arrayed　in　orderly

ranks facing each other on a dusty yellow steppe holding the tips of their

lances upright； bedecked in an array of colors and patiently watching their

manders；　who’d　rushed　to　the　fore　and　begun　to　fight。　I　was　about　to　tell

myself that regardless of whether the illustration was made today or a

hundred　years　ago；　whether　it’s　a　depiction　of　war　or　love；　what　the　artist　of

absolute　faith　actually　paints　and　conveys　is　a　battle　with　his　will　and　his　love

for　painting；　I　was　going　to　declare　further　that　the　miniaturist　actually　paints

his　own　patience；　when　Master　Osman　said：

“It’s　not　here　either；”　and　shut　the　heavy　tome。

In　the　pages　of　an　album　we　saw　high　mountains　interwoven　with　curling

clouds　in　a　landscape　illustration　that　seemed　to　go　on　forever。　I　thought　how

painting　meant　seeing　this　world　yet　depicting　it　as　if　it　were　the　Otherworld。

Master　Osman　recounted　how　this　Chinese　illustration　might’ve　traveled　from

327

Bukhara to Herat； from Herat to Tabriz； and at last； from Tabriz to Our

Sultan’s palace； moving from book to book along the way； bound and

unbound；　finally