d him to transcend the styles and models of the Mongol；

Chinese　and　Herat　masters　billeted　deep　in　his　soul；　or　even　for　him　to　forget

about them entirely。 When I told him this； he replied that like many

miniaturists who’d moved from workshop to workshop and country to

country； he’d forgotten these old styles； if he’d ever actually learned them。

Though　the　value　of　many　miniaturists　resides　precisely　in　the　splendid　models

of　form　they’ve　mitted　to　memory；　had　Velijan　truly　forgotten　them；　he’d

have　bee　an　even　greater　illustrator。　Still；　there　were　two　benefits；　of　which

he　wasn’t　even　aware；　to　harboring　the　teachings　of　his　mentors　in　the　depths

of his soul like a pair of unconfessed sins： 1。 For such a gifted miniaturist；

clinging to old forms inevitably stirred feelings of guilt and alienation that

would spur his talent to maturity。 2。 In a moment of difficulty； he could

always recall what he claimed to have forgotten； and thus； he could

successfully　plete　any　new　subject；　history　or　scene　by　recourse　to　one　of

the old Herat models。 With his keen eye； he knew how to harmonize what

he’d learned from the old forms and Shah Tahmasp’s old masters in new

pictures。　Herat　painting　and　Istanbul　ornamentation　happily　merged　in　Olive。

As with all of my miniaturists； I once paid an unannounced visit to his

home。　Unlike　my　work　area　and　that　of　many　other　master　miniaturists；　his

was a filthy confusion of paints； brushes； burnishing shells； his folding

worktable and other objects。 It was