Pin Cushion Doily c. 1939

Frank Nelson’s Pin Cushion Doily, which has no date assigned to it, is made with incredible care. I’m thinking about the work and time it takes to make something like this. The colors here are muted—a soft blue edging, pale pink roses, and gentle greens for the leaves and vines—all set against a beige cloth. It's the kind of palette that whispers rather than shouts, making you lean in closer. And when you do, you notice the details: the tiny holes punched around the edge, the delicate embroidery. Each stitch is a decision, a mark made with intention. Look at how the roses are formed, each one a tiny burst of texture, contrasting with the smoother, flowing lines of the ribbons. It reminds me of Gee’s Bend quilts, where scraps of fabric become stories, or even Agnes Martin’s grids, where simple lines carry so much emotion. Nelson’s doily is a quiet rebellion against the idea that art has to be loud or complicated. It's a reminder that beauty can be found in the everyday, in the slow, deliberate act of making.