Over the last couple of days, we’ve been exploring Taos Pueblo’s architecture as a source of inspiration for the Pueblo’s artists. We began on Friday with a look at literal Pueblos in miniature, facsimiles of the iconic buildings rendered in the same clay as the their real-life versions.
Yesterday, we looked at some of the ways in which that same architecture has informed Wings’s own work, through his chosen medium of silver. That post contained examples in a number of styles, ending with the latest in one of Wings’s signature series, the Taos Pueblo pin. I noted then that today we would look at some of the pins in that series from years past: earlier iterations that are not at all dissimilar, yet each still unique in inspiration and ultimate expression. Today, I’m going to pair some of those earlier pins with some of his photographic images of the Pueblo, to show how little-noticed aspects — the golden-red clay against a turquoise sky, the misty clouds hovering behind the skyline, the starkness of shadow and the every-changing light — how each of these and more can infuse each a long-time series of similar pieces with its own unique identity and spirit.
The photo above is one of perhaps hundreds that he has taken over the years of North House, which is the multi-story building to the left as a visitor enters the Pueblo’s plaza. It’s the building that outsiders think of when they think of “Taos Pueblo” — much more so than South House, which is likewise a multi-story building but does not sit at the proper angle to give visitors the sort of clear, unobstructed, row-like view that its counterpart does. North House has thus become, to outsiders, the one image that most represents Taos Pueblo.
You will see images of both sets of buildings in this post, and as you will also see, the Pueblo pin does justice to both. The one below is from a decade or so ago. I failed to include the piece’s name in the image file, and it’s been too many years for me to recall it now. But the turquoise cabochon on the left, placed at the second-story window, looks like nothing so much as the midday sky in the photo above, a brilliant and slightly warming blue in the late winter sun.
Of course, sometimes the blues of turquoise stones are nearly the green of the piñon forest that serves as the Pueblo’s year-round backdrop. In winter, all else is earth tones save pine and sky; the land itself is a near-match to the village’s warm brown walls. The snow-encrusted roofs and crenellations shine silver in the morning light (and coppery gold at sunset). Sometimes, that icy metallic light finds its way into the edges of one of the pins, adding a little extra shine to the setting for a stone whose color mimics the season’s trees and sky:
Sometimes, of course, the focus is less on the building as a whole, and more on its constituent parts — the vigas, the latillas, the arbors, the pine-wood ladders that make the Pueblo style unique on this continent, whether long ago or just last week.
The warm and rounded roof edge against the western sky, white clouds churning themselves into thunderheads and boiling over the rooftop; the ladder, supporting posts of different lengths, because it’s still in use every day, propped against the wall to touch its shadow twin; the wall itself, the earthy red-brown warming in the slanting sun, early cracks in the facade just beginning to make their presence known at the curve of the roof; and those ancient vigas, huge rounded beams of local piñon, holding it all together.
It inspires Sky Vigas, a reflection on the daily kiss of the Southwest sky against the old wooden beams that keep the home together.
And it’s not only the walls. The piñon poles, the latillas, play a central role in the architecture: Not merely the walls but the buildings themselves, the rooms of the very homes, are useless, unnavigable without the ladders, and the arbors are a permanent fixture of the homes (and simultaneously a mobile shelter when in the fields).
In stark relief against an indigo sky, the weathered silver-gray poles highlight the intense color in a way that little else but snow can do.
And silver and lapis become Pueblo Blue.
But the light shows off other hues to great effect, as well. Against the wintry gray-green mountainside, the sun turns the earthen walls pink and rose and red:
And the warmth of the color sends one’s thoughts down other colorful paths, into shades deeper yet, taking the mind from palest pink to darkest garnet:
And while moons are, well, moons — in full color, beings of the night — even by day their presence makes itself known. And so Garnet Moon, at rest in silver along the roofline, harks back to the reflection of the lighter, warmer, paler shades of day.
Even in the monochrome of winter, when the colors are all shades of silver, dusky and gray on one end, brilliant white on the other:
Then, too, do they evoke thoughts of the moon, silver in the night sky, even as the sun shines with a weak silver light of its own.
And when the sun sets early on the village walls, a Tiwa Moon hovers atop the ladders, lending a soft white light to those who must yet be out and about.
At other seasons, and other times of day, the associations are warmer: earthy browns and reds and golds, all melding together in the glow of an autumn sun into the coral shades that ornament nature and people alike:
And the red of the setting sun becomes the Red Moon of the Harvest Time, looming large and low in the sky.
It’s a color to warm you, sitting by the fireplace in dusk and again at dawn, before the first snow arrives to dampen hue and hearth alike.
And yet, when that snow comes, it brings its own pale beauty to the ancient walls and rooftops . . . and never more so than at that moment when Dawn Breaks, when it turns the entire village a soft, fragile rose, the color of the stone of peace, the gentle rose quartz on the one remaining Pueblo pin:
The soft hue of the dawn sky washes over the Pueblo by way of a tiny rose quartz cabochon. Hand-cut of sterling silver, the pin’s stampwork includes the traditional doors and windows, the pine vigas (support beams), and the iconic pine entry ladder.
Sterling silver; rose quartz
$225 + shipping, handling, and insurance
It’s only a short tour. It doesn’t begin to touch the range of colors and shapes and seasons and lights that influence his choices. But it provides a few clues as to how he envisions each piece, alike, yes, but to him notable chiefly for its differences: of inspiration, of inspiriting, of meaning for the person who will ultimately wear it.
Someday, perhaps nearer the holidays when he adds a few more to his inventory, we’ll take another tour of of some of the other images that have likewise influenced their conception and creation.
Note: Any of the photos shown here is available for purchase. Generally speaking, the actual photos themselves, matted and framed, will be of substantial size and priced accordingly. Prints, cropped slightly for sizing (8″ by 10″), may also be ordered; each is signed and numbered on the back, unmatted, and ships in a plain clear plastic sleeve.
Size including frame: 18.5″ by 24.25″
$775 + $125 shipping, handling, and insurance
Size including frame: 17.75″ by 20.25″
$625 + $100 shipping, handling, and insurance
8″ by 10″ print:
$100 + $10 shipping, handling, and insurance
Tomorrow: a photo from his recent show that tells a story (or more than one) about the role the homes play in his art.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owners.
