My family's only heirloom was a tattered and patched thirty-six-star Civil War flag sewn by my great-great-great aunt, Ida Peppercorn, in 1865. When I was in first grade, my mom allowed me to take this keepsake to school for show-and-tell; it was my proudest moment that year. Decades later, my parents asked me to be the family caretaker of this coveted flag, and I hung it prominently in my first New York apartment.

My interest in the Stars and Stripes could have ended there, but as a designer, creating graphic symbols is an important aspect of my work. The American flag was a symbol I couldn't leave alone. Designers are continually challenged to come up with visual icons that evoke immediate recognition, emotional power, and universal meaning. By any standard, the American flag has brand value that every designer would envy.

When I view my collection as a whole, I am fascinated by the many forms the Stars and Stripes has taken over the decades. I have found flags molded in Jell-O, carved in tree trunks, etched in granite, and sprinkled with glitter. Through this parade of objects and imagery, I've learned about the social milieus from which the various flag interpretations emerged. It is not just the flag as a designed object that has intrigued me; it is the rich history that surrounds it, too.

For me, the collector's passion is in the joy of discovery -- in sorting through piles of stuff at antique fairs and flea markets and finally unearthing a new and wonderful iteration of the Stars and Stripes; in learning about how people lived and thought in another time; and in deepening my appreciation of the independent spirit and resourcefulness of the true "designers" of the flag, the American people.