The midpoint of January, and the worst of spring is already here: high winds battering a more ordinary cold into something bitter and bone-deep. It’s a terrible day, entirely too bright; sky icy and cloudless, surface and corner and blast of air honed to a scalpel’s edge.
This is a preparatory time of year, more so for those involved in the ceremonial work to come, but frankly, for everyone now. There is much of winter to get through yet, and no matter how early spring decides to force its way in (today seems to be the day), it will do nothing to change the essential cold that marks this time of year. All spring does is add vicious winds and a layer of mud to the mix.
It seems that already our small world here is going to have drought conditions imposed upon it, fifteen days into the colonial new year.
In an ordinary year, we would have the cold but not the winds, and in their place would be several feet of snow now hardened on the ground. Of course, in an ordinary year, there would have been dancing last week and the week before, for what other cultures call Epiphany of Kings’ Day or Twelfth Night is in fact a day of dance here: in some years, the Deer Dance; in others, the Buffalo Dance. There is, by virtue of childhood memory, a particular tie with the date and the Buffalo Dance for Wings, a memory now bittersweet with loss and grief. But it reminds us that dancing, too, is an expression of the sacred, and a link with other worlds and their inhabitants: Dancing is a way of ceremony in a space of the spirits, a means of communing at the level of the drum’s own heartbeat.
Today’s featured collection of works embody dance, dancer, and drum, and ceremony all in each of four small pieces. They are hand-held pottery mugs, sometimes called “spirit cups” when used for offerings, all sharing much more than a mere family resemblance, all part of a alrger series wrought by the same artist, these four in the form of Buffalo Dancers. All are found in the Other Artists: Pottery gallery here on the site; from the description of the first, shown above:
Lightning arcs from sky to earth as the buffalo dancer executes the steps that are his prayer to Spirit. He arises from the side of this traditional Pueblo mug, hand-coiled and -formed out of local micaceous clay by Jessie Marcus (Taos Pueblo). Incised across the front are images of the lightning that heralds the arrival of the rains. Stands 3.75″ high on figurative side (dimensions approximate).
Micaceous clay
$125 + shipping, handling, and insurance
The one above and the one immediately below are adorned only with spare and simple Indigenous patterns that evoke the look and feel of lightning. From the description of the second:
Braids flying beneath his headdress of horns, the buffalo dancer moves his feet beneath a storm-swept sky. He emerges from the side of this old-style mug, hand-coiled by Jessie Marcus of the Pueblo’s micaceous clay. On the front, incised lightning bolts arc across the sky. Stands 3.75″ on figurative side (dimensions approximate).
Micaceous clay
$125 + shipping, handling, and insurance
Spare and simple the motif may be, but it is, to my mind, enough: The storm itself is often sacred space, and nowhere is that more true than here, where water is so much more than mere “life,” as the now-facile adage asserts. rain ad snow are medicine, the First Medicine, the one from which all others flow and flower.
The third, though, combines this symbolism with a view of the old village itself, as though seeing its edge and its multistory architecture emergent from the flash of the lightning. From its description:
A buffalo dancer traces his steps in the plaza beneath a sky bisected by bolts of lightning. He emerges from the side of this hand-coiled traditional mug, created of local micaceous clay by Jessie Marcus (Taos Pueblo), his horned and maned headdress cascading down the exterior. The stormy skyscape of the plaza is incised by hand on the front. Stands 3.75″ high on the figurative side (dimensions approximate).
Micaceous clay
$125 + shipping, handling, and insurance
It is a melding of more elemental powers with that of place, for it is in the plaza of the village that the Buffalo Dance takes place. The fourth, however, has left the symbols of the storm behind entirely, turning to focus on the village and a more fundamental form of sacred space, that of the mountain that overlooks it. From its description:
A buffalo dancer steps along the body of this old-style mug, hand-coiled by Jessie Marcus of the local micaceous clay. He wears the traditional horned headdress, mane texturized and braids flowing beneath. Peaks and old village homes, incised on the front, look out over the plaza where he dances. Stands 3.75″ high on figurative side (dimensions approximate).
Micaceous clay
$125 + shipping, handling, and insurance
There is dancing these days, to be sure, but it is no longer the open and welcoming affair it once was. Colonialism’s ravages, the latest in te form of a deadly viral pandemic, have seen to that.
But the dancing was never about colonialism anyway, nor about the colonizers who, to a person, treat it as another commodity to be consumed. Dance, in our peoples’ ways, is a deeper form of communication, of engaging the spirits, and we do it despite, or often in defiance of, all that colonialism brings to its observance.
These miniature Buffalo Dancers, wrought as they are a part of vessels used for offerings, intended to hold medicine, remind us of its real purpose: to conduct ourselves in a way of ceremony in a space of the spirits, with honor, and with joy.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2021; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.
