Paste paper with purple, yellow, and green patterns 1700 - 1800

Curator: Ah, this paste paper from between 1700 and 1800! It's part of the collection at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Editor: It kind of looks like abstract Cheerios scattered across a textured field! The browns, greens, and muted yellows give it a wonderfully earthy, almost melancholic vibe, don't you think? Curator: Exactly! And it's unsigned. What's fascinating is the method—paste paper creation was a practical and artistic process, not something we associate with high art but more with craft or even just plain usefulness. Editor: Useful for what, though? Bookbinding, maybe? The colours suggest something earthy; a humble yet beautiful sort of purpose. The random geometry speaks to the beauty of imperfections. Curator: Book covers and endpapers are exactly the kinds of things I'm thinking of. But beyond function, consider how the patterns work: a repetitive series that makes a new texture by combining simple forms in creative combinations, to create complex results that give it such visual rhythm. Editor: Agreed. It makes you wonder, doesn’t it, about the anonymous artist's frame of mind while they created this? Was there an intentional aesthetic statement being made, or was this simply a case of skillful handiwork with an eye for color? I find beauty here that seems entirely unexpected, perhaps even unintentional, born more out of repetitive actions and craft know-how than expressive yearning. Curator: Yes, perhaps so! Yet these functional pieces allowed creativity to persist beyond the expected masters of craft! And for a moment, while working on a design to simply use later, a creative eye made art where others saw usefulness. The simple beauty made this piece a masterpiece of function. Editor: Absolutely, and maybe there’s beauty to that freedom that wasn’t chasing greatness. Perhaps we, too, should chase excellence rather than “greatness.”