had a style；” said Black。 “He taught me how the hidden fault of ”style‘ isn’t
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something the artist selects of his own volition； but is determined by the
artist’s past and his forgotten memories。 He also showed me how these secret
faults； weaknesses and defects； at one time such a source of shame they were
concealed so we wouldn’t be estranged from the old masters； will henceforth
emerge to be praised as “personal characteristics’ or ”style；“ because the
European masters have spread them over the world。 Henceforth； thanks to
fools who take pride in their own shortings； the world will be a more
colorful and more stupid and； of course； a much more imperfect place。”
The fact that Black confidently believed in what he said proved that he was
one of the new breed of fools。
“Was Master Osman able to explain why； for years； I drew hundreds of
horses with regular nostrils in Our Sultan’s books？” I asked。
“It was due to the love and beatings he gave all of you in your childhood。
Because he was both father and beloved to you all； he doesn’t see that he
associates all of you with himself and each of you with the others。 He didn’t
want you each to have a style of your own； he wanted the royal atelier as a
whole to have a style。 Because of the awesome shadow he cast over all of you；
you forgot what came from within； the imperfections； the elements and
differences that fell outside the confines of standard forms。 Only when you
painted for other books and other pages； which Master Osman’s eyes would
never see； did you d