About three and a half years ago, Wings received a phone call out of the blue. It was from a man who lives in a big city on the East Coast; his wife participated in an online community where I was a member, and had suggested that he contact Wings.
This man and his wife do the crucial work of justice, although we didn’t know that at the time. It’s a difficult task, and often a dangerous one. Their work gives them reason to know this; a few years ago, that danger was brought home to them personally, in an all too real way.
When this man called us, he did something very, very rare, something that is one of the greatest compliments an artist can be given: He talked to Wings on the phone for ten or fifteen minutes; told him what he felt he wanted, needed; then left the design and execution entirely in Wings’s hands.
It was, perhaps, their own experience of brutal violence that led them to seek out Wings in the first place. The client wanted something large, bold, something solid and substantial, something that incorporate turquoise into the design. Most of all, he wanted something that would be protective. He told us then that his work was such that he felt he needed the spiritual boost, but he didn’t tell us what it was. We would later learn that his work involves daily assaults on the spirit, and carries with it the distinct and ever-present possibility of more tangible physical harm.
After their discussion, Wings set to work. He carved out bold, wide band of fairly heavy-gauge sheet silver, then set to work on the design. As with so much of his best work, he aid the design came to him as he worked, taking shape organically beneath his hands, as though hands and tools alike knew exactly what was needed. He scored the band into eight even rows, then stamped each meticulously, across the entire surface of the cuff. The two center rows were embossed with an alternating positive/negative pattern of lodge symbols in the shape of tipis. Flanking that pair of rows, he placed a row of chased Eyes of Spirit. On the outside of those two rows were more lodge symbols; finally, at either edge row, he repeated the Eye of Spirit pattern, The net effect was of a Spirit, of Medicine, of a sacred space and healing one, safe within a lodge beneath Spirit’s own sheltering gaze.
The band alone was spectacular, tiny, meticulous, finely-detailed work. But it wasn’t done. Mindful of the client’s request for something incorporating turquoise, and perhaps some other stone (in the client’s words, whatever Wings felt would work best), he set about choosing stones.
In his inventory of stones, Wings had a few large ovals of solid turquoise in a classic robin’s-egg blue. These were very old, natural stones, originally designed as enormously chunky beads. He has no memory of where or when he acquired them, other than the fact that it was a very long time ago; they may have been part of the collection of stones his father, also a self-taught silversmith, passed to him many years ago. It’s impossible now to establish their mine of origin definitively, but based on the color and the presence of the dark, heavily-textured chert matrix, we think it’s safe to say that they came from Nevada, probably the northern part. It’s a region famous for the beauty and quality of its Skystone.
Wings cut the stone to suit, then set it in a large oval bezel soldered across the center of the band. On either side, he placed three small repoussé conchas in a starburst shape, each alternated with small round coral cabochons. The coral itself was frankly amazing: four cabochons, two per side, of very old natural branch coral in deep crimson. The overall effect was to meld the protective qualities of the Skystone, in a color used locally to ward off evil, with the color of life itself, of the blood that courses through our veins. The entire work, taken together, was of safety, or protection, beneath the gaze of a sheltering spirit.
It was an exceptionally powerful piece, one that was, at the time, unusual for Wings in its level of bold detail. The client was delighted with it, and told him so. A few months ago, he contacted us again — and again, seemingly out of the blue — seeking to commission another such piece (along with a repair to a piece by another artisan, a ring whose cabochon had dislodged and been lost). Again, the client left the design to Wings, telling him, “You know my spirit.”
It was a sentiment he would repeat upon receipt of the new work. It’s also perhaps the highest praise a Native silversmith can receive, an affirmation that his work speaks to a person on the deepest possible levels.
Late last night, Wings received a voice-mail message from the client, advising us that he had landed in Santa Fe. The possibility prompted me to dig out the photo of his earlier piece. Combining, as it does, the images of sky and spirit, the colors of this place and of our peoples, it seemed a good choice for today’s #ThrowbackThursday post.
And if all goes well, we will at last meet our friend, this fierce warrior, in person. That will be a great gift of Spirit to us.
~ 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.
