This is a textile of an unknown date by Grace Halpin, and it makes me think about surface and what lies beneath. The deep red floral pattern against the black-brown ground feels like something discovered in a forgotten attic, its colours faded, but its story still vivid. I'm drawn to the way the fabric is folded back in the corner, revealing another layer, or a ghost of the print itself. I wonder if that fold is Halpin letting us glimpse at the evolution of the pattern, or the different possibilities within it. It reminds me of how Agnes Martin would build up her grids, layer by layer, with such subtle variations that each line feels like a breath. There’s an intimacy, like you’re seeing the bones of the composition. What do you think?