Crewel Bedspread c. 1937

Mary Berner made this Crewel Bedspread, sometime in the 20th century, probably with dyed wool threads, and a steady hand. The palette is muted, earthy, and maybe a little faded, like an old memory. Look closely, and you’ll see the texture of the fabric, the tiny imperfections in the stitching, and the subtle shifts in color. Each stitch is a decision, a tiny mark in a process that’s both deliberate and intuitive, and each contributes to the rhythm of the whole composition. My eye is drawn to the circular motif with the figures. There's something about the way the forms are rendered, slightly awkward, slightly off, that feels so human, so vulnerable. It reminds me that art doesn’t have to be perfect to be powerful; it just has to be honest. This piece reminds me of the work of another self-taught artist, Bill Traylor. Both artists share a similar approach to form and composition. They each seem to embrace the imperfection of their craft. Ultimately this work, like all good art, resists easy interpretation, and reminds us that meaning is never fixed, but always in flux.