Attic pottery gave the ancient world its visual vocabulary long before it gave it philosophy. On black terracotta, painters cut figures in silhouette — gods, athletes, processions of mourners — ringed by the meander, the unbroken key pattern the Greeks believed guarded against the evil eye by never quite closing. Later, red-figure technique reversed the palette and let anatomy breathe: musculature, drapery, the turn of a wrist rendered in reserved clay against a field of black glaze. It is a design language built on line, repetition, and restraint — narrative held inside a border that never stops moving. This collection draws its terracotta grounds, its meander borders, and its economy of black and rust from that vocabulary, brought forward two and a half thousand years to the table.