We awakened this morning to a an eerie pink sky: shades of peach and coral to the east deepening to a dusty rose in the west.
The smoke plume has returned.
Even if I hadn’t been able to see the strangely-colored sky, the return of the congestion, the burning eyes, the recurrent cough would have told me. Now that the sun is fully up, what at least had the benefit of color has paled to a dirty yellow-white haze, hanging heavy in the windless air.
We will probably never know how many young trees, how many flowers, how many herbs and crops were lost less to endless drought than to this toxic pall. In a year of pandemic, more poisons are the last thing our small world here needs.
Time is mostly short for what remains, now, of growth and green. Ordinarily at this time, we would be anticipating our first real frost, our first hard freeze not due for a few weeks yet. Instead, we had snow in the early days of September, while the calendar pointed insistently to summer, and with it a mercury plunging to twenty degrees.
It’s a wonder anything is left blooming now.
But for all that this is a harsh land, it nurtures hardy spirits, too, spirits that will serve us all well in this hard winter to come. We have watched the birds adapt, perhaps even evolving in real time before our eyes, as they adjust their migratory patterns literally on the fly. Many more species than usual have chosen to spend days, weeks, months, even multiple seasons here this year, perhaps judging it safer to remain in a place of sanctuary as long as possible than to adhere to formerly rigid schedules. And with the overstaying of the warm-weather birds has come, too, the early return of those who fly on colder winds, all here in community with each other.
We could learn much from them.
We could learn much from the teachings of our elders and ancestors, too. However much we are forced to walk in multiple worlds now, there is wisdom to be found in the oldest of ways, counsel to inform our next steps as we navigate this new world that grows more dangerous by the day. It is the wisdom of peoples who have survived, even thrived, through much more than a single pandemic or a few seasons of drought, their very selves both deeply rooted and yet transcendent, always reaching for the sky.
Such ancestors are the spirits of summer flowers, autumn frost, and the transcendent ability to thrive in beauty and harmony.
Today’s featured works embody this same transcendent spirit — in more ways than one, as it happens. They were both created by master carver Ned Archuleta, who walked on in the early days of summer. At that time, we removed them from inventory for a while, to allow the pieces to rest, and his spirit, too. Now, with the annual dance between summer and fall well under way, it seems a good time to return these powerful works to their place. Both are eminently traditional carvings, with Ned’s signature attention to the small details that show Indigenous knowledge of its subjects. They have always seemed to me to belong together, this pair of elders, each of a piece with the other. Both are found in the Other Artists: Sculpture gallery here on the site. We begin with the one he created first, shown above; from its description:
This representation of a Pueblo elder in traditional dress, complete with blanket, jewelry, and eagle feather, is the work of master carver Ned Archuleta (Taos Pueblo). This one really shows Ned’s ability to coax spirit from stone by following its immanent form, and features great attention to detail: the lines of the blanket, the strands of beads, the markings on the eagle feather in the hair. Formed out of a pink alabaster, it sits atop a pine wood base. Stands 12.25″ high including base (sculpture, 11.25″; base 1″). The sculpture is 6.25″ wide by 1.75″ deep; the base, 6.5″ wide by 3″ deep (all dimensions approximate).
Pink alabaster on pine base
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The second one he created some months later, but its identity seems much the same: one that follows the line of the stone, evoking a similar traditional spirit. From its description:
Master carver Ned Archuleta (Taos Pueblo) works in classic Pueblo fashion — with the stone, not against it. The result is an iconic form of a Pueblo elder, wrapped in the traditional blanket and wearing an eagle feather. Pink alabaster mounted on cedar base. Sculpture stands 13-1/4 inches high including base (carving 11-3/4″ high; base, 1-1/2″ high); carving 5 inches across at widest point by 1-5/8″ deep; base 5-7/8 inches cross by 3.5 inches deep. All dimensions approximate.
Pink alabaster on cedar base
$375 + shipping, handling, and insurance
Weight requires special handling; extra shipping charges apply
It’s fitting, perhaps, that these two works should embody all the colors of this morning’s strange sky: a reminder that “strange” can be beautiful, and that there is beauty and power to be found even in the most troubling of circumstances.
Spirit knows these are troubling days. The weight of the evil and its ravages upon body and spirit, both of our own and the earth’s, grows heavier by the day. These pieces remind us of our own deep roots in that earth, remind us that we are strong enough to stand, and withstand, all of it. We hold all the beauty of summer flowers, but the autumn frost is no threat to us.
There are times to bend with the winds, to follow the lines of the stone; there are times to rest, to sleep, to gather ourselves for another day. Whatever winter this year brings, we are deeply rooted, and we shall flower again.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2020; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.
