Today marks the first day of a new month, one in which our world here gets down to the business of summer.
It is important in other ways, too, at least for us: Most importantly, it marks the day of Wings’s birth, and today we will celebrate. But it also marks the birth of this space, The NDN Silver Blog, and that, too, is cause for celebration on a smaller scale. In two full years, we have not missed a single day of bringing to our readers, clients, and friends stories of Native art, history, culture, and tradition.
This collection of markers is a reminder of the changes wrought by the passage of time in our traditional ways — and of what remains unchanged, a reminder of their essential timelessness, of the myriad ways in which the lessons of the ancestors not only survive, but are still put into practice on a daily basis. It is, in a sense, confirmation of the old ways, of their validity and value in and of themselves. It’s not that such confirmation is needed; we know their intrinsic worth better than anyone outside of our cultures. Rather, it underscores the importance of maintaining them, of passing them down to future generations, and, where appropriate, of making clear their importance to an outside world that too often treats them, and us, with disrespect and dismissiveness.
Normally, on this day, I would highlight one of Wings’s own works. But July first falls on a Friday this year, the day of the week in which we feature the works for other artists. As we draw toward the end of a week in which we have explored the importance of a solid foundation to our cultures’ ability to survive and thrive, and the foundational role that stories play in that process, it seems the perfect time to highlight a work that embodies both of those themes in very literal ways. [And tomorrow we will bring you an all-new work by Wings that fits these themes remarkably well, one that is simple and stunning in its beauty.]
We have already looked briefly at today’s featured work — in our Tuesday post as part of our series on Indigenous Arts. Today, I want to bring it forward from that larger background composed of micaceous clay and figurative works and let it tell its own story, so to speak. From its description in the Other Artists: Miscellaneous Jewelry gallery here on the site:
This one-of-a-kind necklace by Aaron Mirabal (Taos Pueblo) features three grandmother storytellers crafted of the Pueblo’s own micaceous clay. The center figure holds two children; each of the others holds one apiece. All figures are dressed traditionally, and are interspersed with round hand-made beads of the same micaceous clay. An older piece from Wings’s private collection.
Micaceous clay; paint
$125 + shipping, handling, and insurance
As I noted on Tuesday. this particular work is an homage to history, to the work of the ancestors, as much as it is a gesture to future generations. It is a bridge between the two, one that brings the ancient world into the present in substance and symbol. In stories:
This, in fact, is an old jewelry style . . . : The earliest jewelry at Taos Pueblo formed of actual beads is said to have been made of beads hand-formed from the same micaceous clay as the people’s pottery, forming beads in the shape of a storyteller figure’s head, with the body and children all of a piece and extending below, is another brilliant melding of multiple media and traditional art forms, creating wearable works that tell their own stories.
In our cultures, one of our most important tasks is that of giving our children a solid foundation upon which to build a life, one firmly grounded in history, culture, and tradition. One of the most effective ways to do that is through the telling of our stories.
There has long been a saying, rooted firmly in the fact of colonialist behavior and dynamics, that it is the victors who write history. Another way of saying it is that the winner owns the words.
To the dominant culture, these remain truisms.
but the fact of the matter is that our peoples have always known the power of words, and better than most. We know the power of story. And we own ours.
Stories may not be, in and of themselves, tangible things: You cannot see them, touch them, taste them, at least not in literal terms. But they hold the power of all five senses, and of senses beyond them. They are history and future, ancestry and legacy, creation and inheritance. They are our foundation, and our existence.
It is the stories that we pass down to future generations that keep our world, and our peoples with it, alive. On a day that marks the passage of time, and with it the joy of living, it is a lesson that is its own story.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2016; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owners.
