Pattern is a place filled with rhythm and movement, with feeling and meaning. It is a place where ink—pushed and pulled and printed—meets the hand, and all else falls away. It is a place where one print speaks to another, yearning to curl up with a neighbor, asking to be reinvented in a way that crumples space or creates a sound. It is not a place of obvious story, but rather a world of breath and sighs and the occasional screech, a world that is as complete as the sound of a dog lapping water from a bowl or a spiderweb delicately holding the morning dew.