Handkerchief [unfinished] c. 20th century

This 'Handkerchief,' made with thread on fabric by an unknown artist, feels like a quiet poem. I imagine them, thread in hand, building these lacy white borders. Each stitch, a tiny decision, layering up to create these delicate patterns. Look at the way the floral motifs sit in each corner. It’s like a little garden blooming on a simple square of fabric. Was it meant to be finished? Or was it a meditation, a way of marking time? I feel a kinship with this unknown creator. The act of making, the repetition, the slight imperfections—they speak to the heart of what it means to be an artist. Maybe, like many artists, they put it aside to work on something else, with the best of intentions to come back to it later. It reminds me that all art is, in some way, unfinished, always open to new interpretations and possibilities.