One hallmark of our peoples’ various spiritual traditions is what anthropologists call “animism”: the belief that a spirit, or soul, is not unique to humans; that something animate inhabits other living creatures and even objects.
The word, of course comes from the same root as the infinitive “to animate,” and it simply means something along the lines of “to move,” or [pardon the dangling preposition] “to give life to.” Nonetheless, the term evokes stereotypes of so-called “primitivism,” and it bears the stamp of dominant-culture labeling and judgment . . . and therefore, assessment, valuation, and eventually, dismissal.
It’s why you will almost never see me use the term (although I occasionally use the word “animate” to describe the feel of a piece of art manifested in a given medium). I prefer variants of the word “inspirit.” Because for us, that’s really what it is: that spark of being that occurs in a different plane, a different medium, from the three-dimensional human one to which we’re accustomed — an existential state, an identity of its own, with its own powers and abilities. And despite certain prejudices to the contrary, it’s not anti-scientific at all. The scientific world has only recently learned of the abilities of certain plants to identify potential predators and to change their won appearance accordingly. To the dominant culture, that seems shockingly like a thought process, which it considered impossible; to us, it’s merely, well, the way of things.
And so it should come as no surprise that much of Wings’s work refers, whether directly or by allusion, to the spirits, and the World — and worlds — they inhabit: our own, yes, but also others that are partly, mostly, or entirely hidden from our view, and all the spaces overlapping and between.
His latest piece summons into silver and stone the spirits of the sky, in the form of a katsina whose identity is solidly rooted in the soil.
It’s another in his signature series, The Mona Lisa on the Rio Grande, a series based on the Corn Maidens and described in detail here.
The photo above shows the front of the piece, but the back is hardly ordinary. Here is an image of the reverse side, with an adapted version of the description of the piece from the “Necklaces” Gallery here on the site:
The latest entry in Wings’s signature series, The Mona Lisa on the Rio Grande, connects earth and sky in a single piece. This personifier of the Corn Maiden, a spirit whose qualities spring from the soil that nurtures and feeds The People, is clad in the regalia of the sky. Her tablita, or ceremonial headdress, is rendered in hand-cut sterling silver, hand-stamped in the symbolism of celestial blessings: the sunrise; the crescent moon; the thundercloud that brings the rain. The tablita cradles her head, embodied in an old natural turquoise cabochon of breathtaking beauty: deep sky blue, adrift with clouds of matrix the color of the famed Taos Pueblo light. The pendant hangs from hand-drilled “doughnut” beads in natural chocolate-matrix Royston turquoise backed by coppery-hued trade beads at either end, all strung over sterling silver chain. A view of the reverse, hand-stamped with more sacred symbolism, is shown immediately above.
Sterling silver; Royston turquoise; trade beads
$775 + shipping, handling, and insurance
This one is a showpiece. The stone truly does take your breath away, and it’s the setting that makes it happen. I know; I’ve seen the stone sitting in his inventory of cabochons for years. It never found its setting . . . until now.
Wings doesn’t do work on spec. He will, however, occasionally work up a sketch for someone who is contemplating commissioning a piece. This grew out of just such a process: a sketch that somehow found its way straight to the silver, demanding, urgently, to be brought into being. And it was labor on his part; I saw the work that went into redrilling every single turquoise bead so that each could be strung on stronger, sturdier sterling silver chain, rather than the simple twine for which they were originally drilled. It’s fine, meticulous work, hard on the eyes and the hands and the back, and still, it’s simultaneously a labor of love: a midwifing of art and spirit, born in a single piece.
And if you’re interested in this piece, or any other, simply use the Contact form at left.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owners.
