Mushaf calligraphy is bound, within the six pens of the aklām al-sitta, to the naskh script in particular. The bodied architecture of thuluth appears in chapter headings, muḥaqqaq and rayḥānī in certain palace volumes; but the carrier of the verse body itself is naskh — the pen that, with Shaykh Hamdullah, settled wholly into the Ottoman page. The mushaf, as the longest text where this pen is patiently applied, constitutes the most exacting discipline of the calligraphic art.
The page does not arrive as paper. A mushaf page is first illuminated, then written. The double serlevha, the chapter headings, the vocalisation marks, the hizib roses, the markers of every ten verses — all come from the hand of the illuminator. The calligrapher steps into the space the illuminator has left, and writes. In palace ateliers these two hands often worked on the same street, sometimes in the same room; the mushaf is the page where calligraphy and illumination meet on a single plane.
The tradition of patronage carries the bones of mushaf art. Bayezid II held Shaykh Hamdullah, Süleyman the Magnificent held Karahisârî, Mustafa II and Ahmed III held Hāfız Osman, Mahmud II held Mustafa Râkım, Abdülhamid II held Sâmi Efendi — and even the last copies before the Republic were nourished by the same old patronage vein that reached as far as King Fuʼād of Egypt. The mushaf is written between the reed of the calligrapher and the signature of the patron.
The discipline of berʼ-i tashīḥ gives these works their ethic. The master finishes the mushaf, carries it to his teacher, has each folio read aloud; errors are marked on a sheet above; only after correction does the volume earn the name mushaf-ı sharīf. When lithography and then the press arrived in the nineteenth century, even the first printed mushafs took these corrected manuscript copies as their archetype. The widely-read printed Hāfız Osman type that you find today is the last link in this hand-written chain.