I've been thinking a lot lately about vintage prints and textiles. My eyes are drawn to them, gobbling them up. They are evocative and memorable in a really tangible way. Maybe it's a favorite blanket, or pillowcase...perhaps a sweater? I can still visualize the drab, yellow floral wallpaper of my parent's old bedroom. Long gone, its insane ugliness luckily captured for posterity in photographs. It's possible I may have stared too hard at it, wedged up close during a particularly intense game of indoor hide-and-seek. Still, there was something comforting about it. And I often find that certain prints and patterns have a hypnotic effect on me. I can look at them over and over and still find something interesting there.
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