The day arrived clear and cold, all northeast wind and violet skies. But despite the beautiful clarity of these pre-dawn hours, the forecast called for rain. Our own day was already destined to be fraught, our tasks complicated by time and distance.
On this morning, as we prayed for others, we also prayed for guidance for ourselves.
The need for guidance has been much on my mind lately; this is always a difficult time of year, even under the best of circumstances. Navigating this world is hard enough, especially for those of us who must walk in [at least] two worlds. It’s far too easy to be detoured by others, often forcibly, onto risky and chaotic paths. Our road is mapped, in part, by the ancestors who walked them before us, but in a rapidly-changing world, we still seek guidance in prayer.
And there is perhaps no more apt symbol of both prayer and process than the eagle feather. So it should surprise no one that the eagle father’s image finds its way into Wings’s work. It is, after all, not only sacred symbol but practical object of our daily lives.
In thinking about Wings’s longstanding series of eagle-feather works, the one that came to mind today was a very special commissioned version. Perhaps it was the purple skies: I was, after all, up before five, at work on this post until I could no longer delay our very early day. Perhaps it was the person for whom it was made: a friend who has become, over time, a collector of Wings’s work, but who is first and foremost simply dear to us both. Perhaps it was the fact that this piece began as an idea, one with neither form nor shape, and one that was never envisioned, originally, in this image.
It’s a throwback to 2014, three years ago this month. Some weeks prior, our friend had contacted me, asking whether Wings could make her a collection of works featuring two of her favorite stones: moonstone and amethyst. The colors have special meaning for her, but so do what they represent, at least in certain traditions. She values the symbols of women’s power and agency, of the force and spirit of flowing waters and sacred directions, and she wanted him to create, first, a necklace, and then a cuff, ring, and a pair of barrettes (one featuring moonstone; the other, amethyst) to coordinate. Like me, her hair is extraordinarily long and thick, and she needed barrettes large enough to hold her locks securely without worrying that the clip would spring or break.
When it came time for Wings to design the amethyst barrette, the image sprang into his mind fully formed: an eagle feather, symbol of power, protection, and prayer. He had already created a number of such works as pendants and earrings, but he had never designed one as a barrette.
First came the scale: With hair like hers, it would need to be wide enough (or rather, in terms of the actual design, the feather would need to be long enough) to permit the French clip to be soldered securely to the back. On the surface of the silver, he sketched out a slightly longer, wider design than usual. At the top of the shaft, he extended it slightly, then set a sizeable oval atop it to serve as the backing for the amethyst cabochon he planned to use as its “anchor.” He then cut the entire piece freehand with a jeweler’s saw, carefully articulating sections of the father’s “barbs,” as would be seen on its real-life counterpart.
Once the feather’s outline was complete, he began the stampwork. First came the individual barbs, created with dozens, perhaps hundreds of tiny lines sloping downward at angles from either side of the feather’s center. He then chose two or three round hoop symbols and scattered them randomly across the surface to create the classic mottled effect found on so many of the bald eagle’s feathers. Then it was time to fashion the shaft, which rose from the feather’s surface, giving it three-dimensional depth: It was created by way of a stunningly slender, delicate strand of sterling silver half-round wire, soldered up the length of the feather at its center, its loose end then wrapped repeatedly around the narrow neck at the top of the shaft and soldered into place. He then stamped the overlay, with meticulous care, in a repeating three-blossom design that would serve to texturize it appropriately.
Then it was time to create the setting for the stone. Wings had already chosen the amethyst that would serve as the barrette’s anchor, a deep and brilliant violet purple that hinted at mysteries below its glossy surface. But as he began to work with it, he decided that it would need something more: a companion stone, much smaller, as befit the feather’s narrow tip, but one equally bright and beautiful. He chose a tiny round amethyst cabochon, created a saw-toothed bezel for it, and soldered the bezel onto the feather’s tip.
Then he turned back to the anchor stone and its setting, which had been cut slightly larger than the stone itself. At the center of the backing, he formed a second saw-toothed bezel, this one oval in shape, and soldered it into place. He then soldered a slender strand of twisted silver into place around the perimeter of the bezel. It was not, however, quite yet time to set the stones.
It’s not uncommon for stones to be set last, but with pieces such as this, it’s absolutely essential. The reason? The barrette must be turned on its face and hammered into a very slight curve, to hold the French clip (and thus, the wearer’s hair). First he shaped the barrette itself, then soldered the clip into place on the back. Then he oxidized the surface, paying special attention to the overlay shaft, the barbs, and the mottling “hoops,” allowed it to cure, and buffed it to a middling-high sheen.
Only at that point was it possible to set the stones: the intense violet oval at the left end; the small round plum-colored one at the right. Once blessed, as is his practice, it was ready to send to our friend along with the other works in the collection.
She told me once that when she has a big event coming up in life, she often wears it (and its companion pieces) for strength and confidence and protection and guidance — and that it works.
On this day, perhaps it was these ruminations on the power of eagle feathers, both life-sized and silver miniatures, that guided us safely through a hectic and tiring day. Stormclouds notwithstanding, the rain held off; now that we are safely home, it has just begun. And here, rain is always a gift.
We use eagle feathers to send our prayers to spirit: in supplication, for giving thanks, to ask for guidance and protection. On this day, perhaps they helped us secure all of them.
Our friend is right: It does work.
~ Aji
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