I don’t often feature individual entries from most of Wings’s various signature series in this #ThrowbackThursday space. The reason’s obvious: They all hold to similar general outlines, the difference lying in the details. Of course, with Wings’s work, the details are always different, always unique, always uniquely animated and inspired and inspirited, but it’s not always something that translates to an image on a screen in ways that make the subtleties, the nuance, immediately perceptible. But occasionally, one will be sufficiently unique and in keeping with the week’s other themes to make a point of highlighting it here.
Today’s featured throwback work is one in the scores, probably hundreds now, of individual entries in his Warrior Woman series. I’ve written about their history here many times, one that makes it clear why this is, in some ways, the series closest to his heart, and why it’s important to him to continue to create them — most recently, earlier this year:
It is a kind of bravery, a kind of power, that women know well. It is especially true of our women, thanks to the externalities foisted on us for half a millennium and more; even in cultures dedicated to peace, we have been forced to become warriors. But in our way, irrespective of gender, to be a warrior has always meant far more than taking up the fight. To be a warrior requires a willingness to sacrifice oneself in defense of others, in defense of the ancestors and elders, the children and spirits, our ways of life and our moral base. It means standing up when no one else will do so, stepping forward when there is no one else to do so.
It is what our women have always done, and it has informed and shaped the path of our survival.
Wings has always known this; indeed, he has always said that women are far stronger warriors than any man. It’s what informs his path, too, what inspires his work, what inspirits the signature series closest to his heart: the Warrior Woman series.
Wings has been creating the pieces in this collection for twenty years and more — by now, scores, perhaps hundreds of them, each unique, each possessed of its own individual animating spirit. I’ve written here before on a number of occasions about this series and how it came to be: the first, designed for his mother and he watched her own valiant battle to survive; the rest, in her memory and in honor of women generally, of their courage and strength and essential power.
And every now and then, someone who knows the equally essential power of these warrior women wrought in silver and stone will commission Wings to make one, usually as a pin but occasionally as a pendant, to certain specifications: for herself, for a relative or friend, for someone in need of the encouragement, in the most fundamental sense of that word, that she provides.
Today’s iteration dates back more than six years, to 2013. I no longer recall whether this was simply one created for inventory or a special commission, but I suspect the latter; something nags at the back of my memory, a half-remembered whisper, an echo, of a conversation. If so, it would have been for a client who wanted a work that would bolster qualities of wisdom, illumination, enlightenment.
And its design was fitting for this season, for the brave and fragile spirits of summer whose strong hearts and brave spirits keep our world firmly on its axis in the face of such wholesale destruction. It is a piece with all the powers of the butterfly on the warmest of days: heart and wisdom, wind and light.
Wings has, of course, a template for each of his signature series. The drawing is always the first step in executing the design process, and he saves his originals. In his case, though, all that means is a rough sketch around the edges onto the silver. Then, the piece is cut entirely freehand with a tiny jeweler’s saw — no lasers, power tools, or tool-and-die cookie-cutter punch stamps here. It’s why each one is slightly different even in the outlines: a little wider here, a little shorter there, a little more emphasis on the legs, a slightly narrower arc to the moon. No two are alike in the details, but perforce no two are exactly alike even in the broader strokes.
With this one, accent choices were so specific as to make me think that my instincts are right with regard to this having been a commissioned piece. The symbolism of the stampwork comes together in a particular pattern; the choice of a tiger’s eye cabochon, too, is unusual. But in terms of workflow, it would have begun with the stampwork on her dress: a single image that evokes the appearance of a mountain peak at sunrise, rays rising to the apex, repeated five times, two pairs conjoined at the bases to create stylized Eyes of Spirit, with the fifth pointing downward at the base to delineate body from legs.
Wings creates the Eye of Spirit symbol, widely considered a powerful wisdom symbol (and one, I have had occasion to learn, that appears in some other Indigenous cultures around the world, as well) in multiple ways. It’s generally wrought in a some sort of stylized diamond shape, and he has individual diamond-shaped stamps, square stamps that can be turned at angles, and a whole array of stamps that are meant to portray other other motifs that can be paired in specific ways to form the requisite geometric pattern. Such was the case here, with the peaks turned ninety degrees to meet, more or less, at their bases. I say “more or less” because the bases of these triangles arched upward, and so when joined, that arc worked perfectly to evoke an image of a diamond within a diamond — or, perhaps, a pupil within an iris.
Next, he turned his attention to the moon she holds in her left hand. The arc of it may vary, and the width, too, but each moon is given its own particular inspirited pattern repeated around its crescent surface. In this case, in keeping with that orb’s own powers of illumination, he chose a star — not, as is more often the case in most of Wings’s work, the four-spoked representation of the Morning Star, but the more classic five-pointed star that bespeaks the glittering light of deepest night. He also stamped her features onto her face and her cuffs onto her wrists, then set about the requisite solder work.
First, he created a repoussé heart, only a few millimeters across but domed on the surface, with a specialized anvil. This he soldered into place above the Eyes of Spirit, in the space across her chest where her own heart would be. Next, he took a length of half-round pattern wire, in this case, faceted wire, cut it to size and tapered the ends, and rolled it by hand through his rolling mill to give it a softer surface and pronounced edges. This would form the serpent that coils over her right shoulder, a symbol of prosperity and abundance. He wrapped one end carefully over her shoulder, then brought the remainder of the wire over the front, bent slightly outward along the body and then connected at the base near the feet. This he soldered into place at top and bottom, lightly, meticulously, so as to keep it held securely without making the solder visible. Next, he soldered a tiny, saw-toothed round bezel into place in the palm of her right hand. Then he turned it over and added his hallmark and the pin assembly.
Design complete, he oxidized all of the stampwork, as well as the facets and millwork on the wire “serpent. Then he buffed the whole piece to a medium-high polish. Then it was time to set the stone.
And the stone is what makes me sure that this was a commissioned work. Tiger’s eye is, for him, an unusual choice for a Warrior Woman; it speaks to me of a highly personal preference on the part of a specific client. And I know, by its very chatoyance, that this particular cabochon was chosen carefully. Cabochons of this size and shape are calibrated, which means that they are produced in lots to exact dimensions, including size and shape. With calibrated cabochons, the only real difference between them comes in how highly any given cab’s surface might be domed, and any variation in matrix or chatoyance, with regard to those stones for whom such characteristics apply. But in such small sizes, usually the 3-millimeter to 5-millimeter range, the stones are usually too tiny to show much differentiation — or, indeed, with regard to stones like tiger’s eye, hawk’s eye, moonstone, or Labradorite, much difference in chatoyance, adularescence, or labradorescence, respectively (i.e., those qualities of the stones that catch, hold, and refract the light in particular ways). Tiny tiger’s eye cabochons very often have a subtle shimmer to them, but look to the naked eye mostly brown; it’s not always easy to find one that produces the cat’s-eye effect that gives the gemstone its name. But this one, as you can see from the image above, has a clearly delineated cat’s-eye center: warm deep espresso browns on either side, with an equally warm but rustier, shimmery line right down the center.
And if that whisper at the back of my memory serves, it was chosen to embody the colors of the client’s horse.
Horses are, in their won way, spirits of summer, too; like the butterflies, they seem to fly upon the winds, mane and tail substituting for wings. They are wise, too, in their own way, and often brave, and their bodies are more fragile than most people know. And like the butterfly, the horse can be a messenger, one with much to teach us: a spirit of heart and wisdom, wind and light.
~ Aji
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