Yesterday’s forecast proved to be wholly wrong: No chance turned instead to a classic monsoonal-pattern storm, albeit one that reversed its usual course. Climate change has brought us not merely altered weather patterns, but new lines in which they travel, too.
Today, rain seems far less likely, but the rain barrels are half-full again. The pond remains empty, but here and there, large puddles shimmer in the light. There is just that tiny bit more green again today, as our late-summer world rouses itself to life once more. And from its tightly-coiled heat are new leaves unfurled, a rippling reflected light in what remains of yesterday’s storm.
Such thoughts put me in mind of today’s featured throwback work, one in a series of works commissioned by one of our dearest friends. It’s a collection that dates back to late last December, a special order consisting of nine separate pieces that were to be given as holiday gifts. All were coil bracelets, six of ordinary length and three of extended lengths. We have featured all but two or three in this space over the intervening months; this is one of the few not yet highlighted here.
When Wings set about creating the nine works in this collection, he did so with one eye firmly on our natural world here, and on the spirits who inhabit and animate it. And so each represented a different aspect of this small world we collectively call home, from fiery suns to river blues to purple twilight and the darkened shimmer of moonlit seas. That last, of course, is perhaps a bit . . . ambitious for our watersheds here even in the best of times, but there are lakes that seem endless of a night, and even our pond, when full, looks like its own self-contained world beneath the pale light of the moon. And that doesn’t even touch upon the sky, which on a cloudy summer night looks for all the world like warm dark ocean overhead.
And so that became the name of this particular work: Moonlit Seas. It was one of the six coils of regular length — essentially four wraps of the spiral when sitting upright on a solid surface, as you see it here. It was one of the pieces in this grouping wrought in subtler shades, yet still awash in color, and in light.
And it was perfect for this season, when the clouds veil the light, and yet the green shines through the rain anyway.
All of the coils are strung on memory wire: Think an exceptionally fine, slender Slinky toy, made of stainless steel, cut to size and specially treated to hold its springy spiraling shape, and plated with silver for color and shine. It’s exactly what it sounds like, which means that bracelets made with it will expand and/or retract to fit nearly any wrist. They’ve been used for decades to create traditional bracelets, usually of turquoise chips accented here and there with coral or spiny oyster shell or carved fetish beads. Wings strings his version with gemstones in a range of sizes and shapes and shades, mixing those of modest value with costly jewels to tell whatever story needs at that moment to be told.
The focal beads of this one consisted of a pair of large round white-lip mother-of-pearl shell — glowing, luminous, like a pair of full moons, with a valuable gray moonstone at the center. On either side, the three stones were flanked by alternating rounds of dark-gray Labradorite, alive with plenty of cobalt-blue refraction; with more of the icy gray moonstones alternating with rich purpled rubies. Extending outward, oval abalone discs alternated with smaller round beads, some plated with sterling silver, others in shimmering green garnet like the color of aspen leaves backlit by the sun. From there, smaller rounds of dark Madagascar Labradorite with deep blue refraction alternating with still smaller rounds of bright green turquoise in matrix, blades of marsh grass rising from the pond’s banks. The green turquoise also anchored either end of the final segment, composed of pale olivella-shell heishi, the small grass-green orbs bisected by small bright silver-colored barrels, imported hand-made African metal beads.
Our pond cannot really be said to have been full even once this year, much less the size of a small lake that it becomes in better summers. Still less has it resembles any sea. But the moonlit seas of water and cloud-swept night sky still live in our memories, and in our hopes and prayers for summers yet to come. Despite the recent rains, there has been precious little water this year, precious little green, too. But perhaps next year the spirits will decide that it is time to return the land to its old self again, lush and green leaves unfurled, a rippling reflected light upon them.
~ 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.
