A few days ago, the forecast for this weekend projected snow. The sudden strong warmth of the last two days has made that unlikely, but we nevertheless awakened this morning to deep blue skies backlit with pale gold and the sound of scattered raindrops on the roof. By volume, it’s not much precipitation — but the effect is pure dawn magic.
Spring in this place has always been a scattered and unstable thing, the mercury rising and falling seemingly on a whim, the winds loosed from their directional homes and allowed to run wild and free across the landscape. We have had snow as late as the second week of June, and we have also had temperatures better suited to the hottest days of summer. On this day, when the high is once again expected to pass the seventy-degree mark, the wind has risen, blowing the clouds out of range but dropping the temperature to far colder levels than the thermometer would suggest. Looking eastward, the highest peaks are still covered in white — thinner, lighter robes now, of course, but still enough snow to catch the light and turn blue in the twilight.
The threshold moments between day and night are always magic here, no matter the season: dusk, when the blue fades to purple, and dawn, when it emerges once again, those moments when sun and moon pass each other on their respective paths. It invariably reminds me of today’s featured work, a small painting by one of Taos Pueblo’s best-known painters, a man who grew up with Wings as closely as a brother. From its description in the Other Artists: Wall Art gallery here on the site:
A herd of buffalo approaches over a snowy horizon in this small painting by Frank Rain Leaf (Taos Pueblo). A full moon rises in the frigid winter sky, reflecting off the icy ground beneath their hooves, while a single red-tailed hawk keeps watch over their path. Unframed; 9-7/8″ high by 7-7/8″ wide (dimensions approximate).
Acrylic on canvas stretched over wood
$225 + shipping, handling, and insurance
I’ve always thought of this painting as representing evening, but it fits the the dawn of this day singularly well. The deep violet blues fading to turquoise in the stormy skies, the reflection of the light, even the hawk: She has already been here, perched atop her favorite post, then springing into the winds to soar back toward the peaks.
The only element not in evidence is the buffalo, although there is a small herd just above us on this land. There is a larger herd up at Picuris, too, where that tribe sells the meat through their Bison Project. Perhaps that is the day’s message: that it is time to head up there. If we’re lucky enough to arrive at the right time, to see the herd come thundering down into the meadow.
I said earlier this week that blue is a color of blessings, among them, unity. Frank’s work captures several of them in compact form, a small and modestly priced work that holds the symbolic heart of our peoples, manifest in four united spirits: Hawk, Buffalo, Earth, and Light.
This is a stormy season, one full of noise and bluster and moods that change in the blink of an eye. This weekend, with more storms forecast two days hence, will be no exception.
Hawk, Buffalo, Earth, and Light.
These are the uniting and transcendent spirits that we will carry with us through the days to come.
~ 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.
