Printed Cotton c. 1940

This is a piece of printed cotton, by Charlotte Winter. It's got this repeating pattern, these kind of cartoonish figures mixed with roses, all in shades of brown and faded red. It reminds me a bit of early animation. The color palette feels like it's telling a story of its own, something old-timey and slightly melancholic. You can almost smell the vintage charm. Look at the way the figures are rendered. They're not perfect, there's a wobbly, almost childlike quality to them, but they're full of expression. It's like Winter wasn't trying to hide the process, but embraced it, letting the imperfections become part of the work's charm. It's like she's saying, "Hey, this is how I see the world, flaws and all." The flatness of the printing reminds me of the work of someone like Elizabeth Murray, in that it takes something traditionally flat – fabric, or in Murray’s case, the canvas – and makes it pop with a new kind of life. Like a conversation across time, where the material itself becomes a voice.