Suzani c. 1930

This Suzani at the Minneapolis Institute of Art, made anonymously, sings out with stitched blooms. It’s a whole garden, bursting from a dark ground, with vibrant, almost psychedelic colors – oranges, purples, reds – like a garden at midnight. I imagine the maker bent over the fabric, needle in hand, each stitch a meditation. What were they thinking? What stories did these patterns tell? The way the tendrils curl and reach, it’s like a conversation between the flowers, a secret language whispered in thread. There's something so direct about the hand-made; you can feel the artist's presence in every imperfection. It reminds me of outsider art, or folk art – work that comes from a deeply personal place, driven by instinct and vision. And that border, those little motifs dancing along the edge, they’re like a chorus, echoing the song of the flowers within. It’s all connected.