Today marks the official return of the time when the spirits remind us of their love: the autumnal equinox, otherwise known as fall, the time of harvest and, in a good year, prosperity and abundance ahead of the long cold nights of winter.
As of this moment, it remains technically summer; the equinox will occur at 2:02 this afternoon local time. But the wingéd ones seem already to know, and to have commenced celebrating here: This morning has seen the return of our fall hawk, the entire raven clan, flicker and meadowlark unseen but recognized by their songs, and a pair of mated ducks afloat in the pond. And celebration seems fitting — it is a perfect autumn morning, sky aflame at dawn, now scudded here and there with deep blue clouds playing hide-and-seek with the light in advance of tomorrow’s predicted rains, the very air as gold as the aspen line on the mountain.
On this day, as we all are engaged in crossing the threshold between the seasons, our world here is awash in lines: the fall of light and shadow upon the land, the arcing ripples the flow from beneath the bodies of the ducks, the ribbons of clouds scudding across an autumnal sky to meet and merge into larger masses, the tall slender stalks of corn bending in the slightest breeze, silvered silk flowing from their tips. All remind us of the changes that are not to come, but already in process; of the harder, harsher days ahead and the need to prepare for them.
It’s a day to be mindful a ritual and rite, too, and its place in our traditional ways. Fall reminds us that the seasons come and go, time moves forward, and still there is birth, and death, and ceremony. How we mark them matters: It keeps us on our own road as we journey around the hoop of our lives, and the larger hoop of our peoples’ existence; it locates us within the spectrum, an infinite circle, that begins with the ancient ones and passes through the generations unconceived and unborn, past and present and future all one.
And so in this week of lines and thresholds, it seems fitting to feature a collection of works that follow their own lines, historical and cultural and aesthetic alike, works that are as wholly a part of the culture from which they are born as the form and shape they take. It’s a set of traditional spirit cups, or miniature bowls, by Taos Pueblo potter Jessie Marcus, only one component of her larger body of work but the substance and style for which she is best known. Each tells its own story; each follows its own line and path. There are the women — the grandmother above who nurtures the corn to the harvest now mere weeks away; the grandmother who makes her home in the old village in the shadow of the mountain, a place to raise the younger generations to know and love and the old ways:
There are the men, too — the elder who instructs the young even as he keeps the old ways alive:
The dancers who honor the spirit of the buffalo, beginning with one whose enfolding blanket bears the image of the village walls:
A second, whose dress embodies both the lines of the old houses and those of the light:
A third, emblazoned with a staff like the lightning:
And a fourth, whose bolt-like adornment resembles the curving arc of small earth spirits:
And then there are those earth spirits themselves, our animal cousins whose own path is joined with our own, who give us so much, in this season and every other:
The horse has long been a member of traditional cultures, one whose road often coincides with our own. Beneath Jessie’s hands, it, like its counterparts, emerges from the hoop-like shape of the traditional cup, ready to ride with us around the hoop.
Each of these compact works is featured in the Other Artists: Pottery gallery here on the site, and the links above that correspond to each piece take you to that works’ individual descriptions there; each is available for $125 apiece plus shipping, handling, and insurance.
And today through September 30th only, each is available for 25% off, bringing their cost down to $93.75 apiece (shipping, handling, and insurance charges still apply).
Each of these works is born out of traditional culture, summoned into form and shape that transcend material lines, merging and emerging into works of beauty and spirit, culture and ceremony. Today, we are crossing the threshold toward the end of the year; it’s good to carry a bit of that ceremony with us as we go.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2017; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owners.
