第69部分(第3/7 頁)

hundreds of years： It looks real； just like the

work　of　Bihzad。”

Of　course；　this　isn’t　the　issue。　My　paintings　reveal　what　the　mind；　not　the

eye；　sees。　But　painting；　as　you　know　quite　well；　is　a　feast　for　the　eyes。　If　you

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bine these two thoughts； my world will emerge。 That is：

ALIF：

Painting　brings　to　life　what　the　mind　sees；　as　a　feast　for　the　eyes。

LAM： What　the　eye　sees　in　the　world　enters　the　painting　to　the　degree

that　it　serves　the　mind。

MIM：

Consequently；　beauty　is　the　eye　discovering　in　our　world　what

the　mind　already　knows。

Did　the　graduate　of　the　miserable　college　understand　this　logic；　which　I’d

extracted with lightning inspiration from the depths of my soul？ Not at all。

Why？ Because； though you’ve spent three years seated at the foot of a hoja

who gives lessons in an out…of…the…way neighborhood religious school for

twenty　silver　coins　a　day—today　you　can　buy　twenty　loaves　of　bread　with　that

amount—you still wouldn’t know who the hell Bihzad was。 It was obvious

that the twenty…coin Hoja Effendi didn’t know who Bihzad was either。 All

right　then；　let　me　explain。　I　said：

“I’ve　painted　everything；　absolutely　everything：　Our　Prophet　at　the　mosque

before　the　green　prayer　niche　seated　together　with　his　four　caliphs；　in　another

book； the Apostle and Prophet of God ascending the seven heavens on the

night　of　the　Ascension；　Alexander　on　his　way　to　China　banging　on　the　drum　of

a　seaside　temple　to　scare　off　a　monster　stirring　up　the　ocean　with　storms；　a

masturbating　sultan　spy