colors；　yet　their

paintings are more pelling because they more closely resemble life itself。

They don’t paint the world as seen from the balcony of a minaret； ignoring

what　they　call　perspective；　they　depict　what’s　seen　at　street　level；　or　from　the

inside　of　a　prince’s　room；　taking　in　his　bed；　quilt；　desk；　mirror；　his　tiger；　his

daughter　and　his　coins。　They　include　it　all；　as　you　know。　I’m　not　persuaded　by

everything　they　do。　Attempting　to　imitate　the　world　directly　through　painting

seems　dishonorable　to　me。　I　resent　it。　But　there’s　an　undeniable　allure　to　the

paintings　they　make　by　those　new　methods。　They　depict　what　the　eye　sees　just

as　the　eye　sees　it。　Indeed；　they　paint　what　they　see；　whereas　we　paint　what　we

look　at。　Beholding　their　work；　one　es　to　realize　that　the　only　way　to　have

one’s face immortalized is through the Frankish style。 And it’s not only the

inhabitants of Venice who are captured by this notion； but all the tailors；

butchers；　soldiers；　priests　and　grocers　in　all　the　Frankish　lands…They　all　have

their por