The true nature of art.
From Orhan Pamuk's My Name is Red.
(One of the underlying themes of the book is the difference in Islamic and Venetian styles of painting. One is miniature and the other portraiture. Islamic paintings never existed by themselves - but as illustrations to a manuscript. And thus concept of detailing itself was different.)
A drawing of a tree laments that it is lost from its manuscript and thus knows itself not (was it the tree that gave shade to Majnu when he was lost raving in the dessert?) and hopes not to be taken as a Venetian illustration.
For it never wanted to be "a" tree. But its meaning.
***
I have done a terrible job of getting my point across here. Pamuk is a master and his book is so subtle, so delicate in its farce and its poetry...
But I had tears when I read this. Tears of joy that this exists in the same world I do. Please do read it.
(One of the underlying themes of the book is the difference in Islamic and Venetian styles of painting. One is miniature and the other portraiture. Islamic paintings never existed by themselves - but as illustrations to a manuscript. And thus concept of detailing itself was different.)
A drawing of a tree laments that it is lost from its manuscript and thus knows itself not (was it the tree that gave shade to Majnu when he was lost raving in the dessert?) and hopes not to be taken as a Venetian illustration.
For it never wanted to be "a" tree. But its meaning.
***
I have done a terrible job of getting my point across here. Pamuk is a master and his book is so subtle, so delicate in its farce and its poetry...
But I had tears when I read this. Tears of joy that this exists in the same world I do. Please do read it.