We haven’t had a winter storm like this in years.
I think the last time we had anything approaching this duration or level of accumulation must have been late 2008. It was in January of 2009 that we first really began to notice the effects of climate change in a very tangible, very immediate way: After a December blizzard that dumped three feet, then sent temperatures plummeting below zero for weeks, January saw highs in excess of 60 degrees that turned three feet of ice to rivers of mud.
This storm is different: steady, heavy snow, constant and consistent, yet simultaneously soft and gentle. It’s like the snowstorms of my childhood, like winter used to be from this part of Turtle Island all the way up into what is now Canada. Oh, there were (are) howling blizzards across much of that stretch of land, too, but not all of winter consists in the manifestation of fierce elemental powers.
For peoples who counted Buffalo among their relatives, what little more than a century ago would have been a common sight now exists mostly in memory: a herd of the massive beings making their way across the plains in the face of the driving snow, heads bowed into the wind, giant flakes collecting on their beards and heavy coats and curly manes, slowly transmuting their deep rich brown into a ghostly white, creating a giant mass of seeming spirit animals lumbering slowly over the face of the land.
Spirit animals they are, of course, for many traditions, and brothers, too: possessed of inherent powers of their own; in some forms for some peoples. the physical embodiment of prophecy and survival alike; an eminently practical blessing of food, clothing, shelter, art, medicine. It makes them a popular symbol for Native artists across much of Indian Country, especially for those whose people counted Buffalo among their brothers. The artists of today’s featured piece is one such. From its description in the Other Artists: Sculpture gallery:
This miniature rendering of Buffalo, carved in the old style, stands on a shelf or fits comfortably in the palm of your hand. Evoked from a thin slab of local Pilar slate by Randy Roughface (Ponca), he appears by turns charcoal gray and soft brick red. Vintage-style carving like this is scant on detail, allowing the stone and the spirit of the animal to merge and reveal themselves, but the stone itself, although rough-hewn by design, is silky smooth to the touch.
Pilar slate
$55 + shipping, handling, and insurance
We’ve talked at length, many times, about vintage-style carving, and about Randy’s version of it specifically. One of the points of it, as the description above says, is to allow the natural beauty and power of both the stone and the spirit being evoked to take center stage, absent extraneous detail. It’s also an homage to the style of our ancestors, in the centuries before the notion of carving with power tools was even conceivable, much less the norm. But vintage-style carving also sometimes creates other, unexpected effects: In harking back to an older tradition, it sometimes produces images of that older way of life.
And so it is with this tiny rendering of Buffalo. Yes, he’s carved from a stone found far away from Randy’s own homelands, and even in the context of that stone’s local variations, it’s still an unusual piece. Pilar slate is normally charcoal gray, with a few swirls of brick-red matrix and scattered flecks of metallic shimmery light. But once in a while, pieces will manifest in shades that sit at other points along the spectrum, appearing to the naked eye to be rich dark brown, red the color of pale brick, even a mulberry shade with purpled undertones. And this piece falls on the red-to-purple stretch of the gray spectrum, giving Buffalo an almost other-worldly appearance.
But that’s not all. The matrix in this stone appears nearly white, and at first glance, nearly universal — scattered flakes and flecks of white across the surface of the stone. Look closer. The angle from which Randy chose to carve, coupled with the faint marks from his carving tools, highlight the slight banding pattern in this stone’s matrix. Combined with the forward angle of the animal itself, Buffalo appears for all the world to be leaning into the wind, trudging steadfastly forward in the face of an oncoming snowstorm, flakes swirling past and collecting on his coat.
For us, it’s a beautiful reminder of an older time. But Buffalo himself is a spirit of steadfastness, of courage, of persistence and survival in the face of impossible odds.
And for people in other parts of the country right now, long-battered by the winter snows that to us here are such a new and welcome blessing, it’s a little piece of that spirit to hold in the hand and from which to draw the strength to persevere.
~ Aji
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