Sheet with overall floral pattern 1800 - 1900

Editor: Okay, so this is an anonymous "Sheet with overall floral pattern" from somewhere between 1800 and 1900. It’s at the Met. They used watercolor, and I guess it’s both a drawing and a print… looks like it could have been a textile design? It feels delicate, almost faded, like a page torn from a very old scrapbook. I'm curious, what catches your eye when you look at it? Curator: What a perfectly sweet antique wallpaper sample this is, wouldn't you agree? And the way that blue fights with the faded coral. My eye immediately goes to the irregularity, that handmade feel despite being a pattern meant for repetition. Makes you wonder about the artist, doesn't it? Imagining them hunched over their table, meticulously painting these little floral sprigs... what dreams might they have had for where this design would end up? In a grand manor house, or a cozy cottage? Or even just inspiring their neighbour, do you think? Editor: That’s a nice image. I was kind of thinking about how restrictive pattern design can be – you have to repeat, repeat, repeat. Do you think the imperfections were a conscious choice or just a result of the time? Curator: Oh, I think it's both/and, absolutely! There was undoubtedly a practical element. But even within constraint, look how much personality sneaks in. The pressure on uniformity paradoxically makes those slight variations so poignant. And given its romanticism tag, I want to think about how much emotion went into a repeat pattern. Is that crazy? Editor: Not at all! It makes me wonder if that artisan thought of it more like drawing or craft. Or perhaps fine art if the intention was deeply embedded within the work... Thanks, I have learned something new. Curator: Same here. Next time I'm wallpapering, I’ll be pouring my soul into it! Cheaper than therapy, I suspect!