Still hazy today, but at least the blue of the sky is visible overhead. That alone is a drastic change from recent days — weeks, even. Meteorological summer is winding down rapidly now to the arrival of its autumnal counterpart on the first of September, and there is a feeling of urgency in the air, as though too little remains of summer to accomplish all that needs doing before the cold descends.
That urgency is magnified by the reality that we will not have our usual ways to mark the turn of the seasons this year. Climate change and the drought it has driven so deeply into the land here have already deprived us of the natural world’s usual schedule: leaves that began going gold in June; others that never fully greened in the first place. But more than that, the traditions of this place have been upended by pandemic and the need to keep the most vulnerable populations safe. In drought years past, and in those when autumn made incursions into midsummer, there were still those markers to remind to give thanks and to honor the seasons and spirits, to remind us of what is eternal.
Our small world here has always looked to September’s end: a feast for the summer, a dance for the sun.
This year, there will be no feast, and no dance. As the light shortens, winds chilled and days fading fast, we shall have to help the sun across the sky in other ways.
Such thoughts put me in mind of this week’s featured throwback work: one that dates back only to last December, just before Christmas, one of a group of nine like pieces in a holiday commission by one of our dearest friends — family, really. She is particularly fond of Wings’s coil bracelets and owns a number of them herself, but last year, she wanted to give several as gifts. She asked him to create a total of nine: six of ordinary length, and three extended-length versions, to fit the larger wrists of some of the men in her circle. We’ve featured the other eight in this space at various times over the last several months, but I was saving this one for just the right week and theme, because this one was an extra-special request for a specific member of her family.
Our friend liked the combination of stones and shades in one of the coils featured here in Tuesday’s post: Love Medicine. It was a coil centered by large round red jasper beads, flanked by segments of smaller matte sardonyx rounds, chunky, fiery carnelian nuggets, and small glossy round onyx anchor beads. She requested that this particular coil echo, as much as possible, similar colors and materials, but that it also include at least two bright blue turquoise beads, to honor her relative’s beautiful blue eyes.
When it comes to mental inventory, I’m the keeper of Wings’s supplies, particularly the beads and gemstones. Knowing that I know what he has in stock frees him to focus on the creative process. But with the gemstone bead collections, he brings me in on a second level, too: I am blessed or cursed, depending on one’s perspective, with the ability to see what so-called color theorists call “true color,” meaning that for whatever reason, my eyes are able to detect very subtle differences in shades that most people apparently don’t notice. This ability, combined with my memory for what he has (or does not have) in inventory, help focus the design process in ways that are not involved in the silverwork. And so I pulled out his inventory of sardonyx (these larger and glossy, instead of matte), of carnelian and onyx and the requested turquoise, and of his other blues and blacks and fire-shade gems.
And we set to work.
When it comes to creating the gemstone bead pieces, whether coil bracelets or bead-strand necklaces or stacked-bead earrings, the creative process doesn’t differ all that much from the silverwork, initially. He’ll have an idea in mind, whether it’s a color combination or a story he wants the piece to tell or a set of symbols he wants it to embody. From that point, though, the process becomes at once simpler and more complicated — or perhaps a better way of putting it is that it becomes more direct, and generally speaking, it moves much faster.
With the coils, one of the challenges is how to fit together the various sizes and shapes in an even, balanced pattern within the space allotted. He’s become accustomed to fitting them into the standard-sized coils, which, as a rule, tend to wrap four times. These extended versions consisted of six wraps, and it soon became apparent that, aside from requiring a great many more gemstone beads, it would also take a lot more juggling to make the design fit together in a harmonious way.
And so he began at the center.
At the time of this group’s creation, he was out of the large round red jasper beads, and the supplier had none in stock. They also had none of the small matte sardonyx, but they did have large glossy sardonyx rounds, and they seemed, in effect, to combine the two other types into one. He bought them immediately, and used them as the focal beads at the center.
Mindful of our friend’s request for a pair of bright blue turquoise beads to offset the fire shades, Wings placed one large, deep red sardonyx round at the center, and flanked it with a pair of slightly smaller round spiderweb turquoise beads in an intense, almost electric sky blue. From there, he strung either side with a segment more of the sardonyx, leading to two sections of fiery carnelian doughnut rondels, each separated by a pair of high-gloss tapered onyx barrel beads. This replicated, as much as possible, the shades and feel of the focal points of the Love Medicine coil, but for a larger wrist.
From there, he moved into smaller beads in starker shades of red and black : blood-red Dolomite rounds alternating with long, rectangular onyx “tube” beads, more cube than tube, with squared-off corners. The last wrap and a half, so to speak, on either end, replicated the sunset fire and desert sky motifs, with the night glow of gold-sheen obsidian rounds separated by more carnelian, this time in shiny, chunky freeform nuggets, and two more pairs of blue at either end to offset the obsidian glow: chatoyant, luminous apatite rounds, the same shade as the larger turquoise near the center, but with an icy shimmering effect.
With all nine pieces in this group commission, Wings felt strongly that the results should embody our natural world here: earth and sky, sun and storm, wind and fire, rain and light. Each had its own unique identity, and this one was no exception: The name of the coil was A Dance For the Sun.
Here, the sun is a constant companion, even in the shorter days of winter. Oh, there are days when the snow veils its gaze, true, but it’s always present, even if it needs our songs and prayers to help it in its journey across the sky. The feast day that would normally occur a month from now honors it, in its own way: a celebration to mark summer’s end, to celebrate the harvest and ready people’s spirits for the long hard winter months to come.
There will be no feast day this year, at least not publicly. People will mark it in their own individual ays, in private, with their families, the better to keep everyone safe. But season and time care nothing for pandemic, and each day the earth spins inexorably onward.
Perhaps, all in all, this aspect of the current crises facing our world will prove to be a good thing. It reminds us that public display celebration is not necessary conditions for celebration, that physical expression is not the only means to show honor and gratitude.
The human spirit transcends it all, and it will still hold a feast for the summer, a dance for the sun, regardless of what conditions in the outside world bring.
~ 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.
