Art & Culture
Read Time: 4 min

the enchanting world of bekhzad

Redux Extra August 26, 2021
Reading Time: 4 minutes

Bekhzad most clearly depicts movement in his wonderful use of “delayed line,” a choreographic term that describes a lingering shape created by the movement of a dancer’s costume.

The art of Persian miniature paintings invite the viewer into an intimate world, filled with jewel-like colors and intricate ornamentation. Originally created to illustrate manuscript texts and poetry, these paintings can sometimes seem stiff and staid. Its figures are seemingly frozen in ornate settings, but the works of Kamoliddin Bekhzad (1455 – 1535) exude a vivid liveliness.

Often considered the greatest master of the Persian miniature, Bekhzad was born in Herat. He was orphaned as a child, but he was raised by painter and calligrapher, Mirak Naqqash. Bekhzad’s talents eventually led him to prominence as a painter in the royal ateliers at both the Timurid and Safavid courts. His patrons include the celebrated poet Alisher Navoi and Shah Ismail.

With his splendid ability to depict movement, Bekhzad skillfully uses body language as a form of non-verbal communication to convey the range of human emotion, from lust and desire to sorrow and death. Sometimes, it is simply the tilt of a head that conveys the shy modesty of a maiden, but this posture has been portrayed by other miniature painters.

Truly, it is Bekhzad’s expression of dynamic movement that sets him apart. He achieves this in three different ways. First of all, he frames dramatic moments within static architectural settings that serve as backdrops for action. Secondly, Bekhzad deftly implies movement through accurate and dynamic body placement. Finally, he has a special gift for understanding the choreographic concept of “delayed line”— the line drawn in space by the movement of a costume, prop or other item which has been set in motion by a dancer’s movement. Persian miniatures do not use the technique of perspective, as is commonly seen in European
art. Instead, these paintings create a flat two dimensional world. But the solid monumental quality of the buildings in the paintings can serve the same function as a theatrical set. It signals to the viewer a specific place and time for the
action that will take place before it and within it. Architecture can suggest power, wealth and
majesty, and because it creates a visual frame with fixed vertical and horizontal lines, the human
movements become more dramatic.

The quality of energetic movement appears in
Bekhzod’s keen understanding of human anatomy.
Although his personages are usually fully covered
in layers of clothing, the placement of their limbs
suggests dynamic movement.

Perhaps the most vivid example appears in
Bekhzad’s portrayal of the legendary story of Yusuf
and Zulekha. The beautiful diagonal line, seen in
the placement of the couple, emphasizes their
struggle, but it is the back foot of Yusuf that tells
the story. His weight is on the ball of his foot, not
solidly placed but possibly off balance, indicating
a forward impetus away from Zulekha and revels
Yusuf’s own emotional state of becoming “off
balance” by the seductive advances of Zulekha.
Bekhzod uses this same understanding of
movement to depict the gruesome scene of a
beheading. But why is this scene disturbing? In
reality, there is no blood and no severed head.
Here again, Bekhzad uses the placement of a foot
to suggest forward movement. The arm of the
executioner is drawn up and back in preparation
of a fatal, downward stroke. There is no need to
see the result. In the viewer’s imagination, the
prisoner’s head has already rolled on the ground.
In the more sensuous scene of a wedding night,
Bekhzad reveals the reluctance of the bride.

Nahid’s right arm is placed protectively across her
body with her left hand partially supporting her. Yet
her head is not turned away from her bridegroom
as he grasps her left calf. Her left foot is slightly
flexed, perhaps a sign of anxiety or anticipation,
and Mihr’s back foot is also flexed, seemingly
pushing forward as he places his leg between hers.
Once again, no subsequent scene is needed. The
outcome is clear.

Bekhzad most clearly depicts movement in his
wonderful use of “delayed line,” a choreographic
term that describes a lingering shape created by
the movement of a dancer’s costume.
Returning to the painting of Yusuf and Zulekha, the
fluttering of the youth’s robe is a delayed line that
emphasizes his escape from temptation.
In an image from the Iskandarnama, Bekhzad even
manages to provide a soundtrack for the scene
that depicts swimmers frolicking in a pool. One
girl playfully tugs at the robe of a seated lady. But
other onlookers seem to be clapping, with gestures
that may indicate they are perhaps keeping time
with the harp music.

Bekhzad’s paintings offer delicious glimpses into the past, filled with elements of historical architecture and costuming. While it can be argued that these paintings should not be taken too literally, his images “ring true,” portraying a gesture, a posture, an emotion, that immediately seems familiar.

Bekhzad’s painting of a Sufi ritual most aptly reveals his understanding of dance movement. Here, men
are gathered in a circular formation, while a whitebearded elder, an aksakal, watches. Two men play ney while another provides rhythm on a riq. This scene is quite recognizable from traditional sema and zikr ceremonies seen in present-day Sufi rituals
from Cairo to Konya.

Inside the circle, four men turn in ecstatic abandon. Their garments and long sleeves creating delayed lines around them. One has lost his turban, and the unspooled length of fabric suggests the spiraling path of the headdress as it falls. Other dancers have already collapsed. One of the personage’s toes are dragging – again, look at the feet! – and has to be helped off by comrades.
The legacy of Bekhzad lives on todayat the Museum of Eastern Miniature Art, which is named after him,
in Tashkent, Uzbekistan.

With a mission to “explore and promote Kamoliddin Bekhzad and his followers’ and eastern miniatures artistic heritage,” this institution also encourages young Uzbek artists who continue the miniature painting tradition. The museum contains examples of works from the noteworthy schools of miniature painting as well as historic manuscripts.

Bekhzad’s paintings offer delicious glimpses into the past, filled with elements of historical architecture and costuming. While it can be argued that these paintings should not be taken too literally, his images “ring true,” portraying a gesture, a posture, an emotion, that immediately seems familiar.

Rather than seeming frozen in time, Bekhzad’s skillfully rendered paintings speak through the ages, accurately depicting a range of recognizable feelings, from the passion of love to the fury of battle. These iconic portrayals of movement speak of a timeless, shared humanity in an enchanting world.

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