Last night’s forecast rain spun out, dissolving into the night, before it could reach us, but some of the clouds have returned today. It’s still remarkably cold — at this time of year, the actual temperature and the ambient air temperature bear little relationship to one another, courtesy of the trickster winds that keep winter hanging on long after her scheduled departure date.
Still, the spirits of warmer winds are here. Butterflies and hummingbirds, even the occasional honeybee. If we are fortunate enough to have the water come, we shall have dragonflies soon, too.
Unlike the other listed, dragonflies are mostly accidental pollinators of the plants and flowers that give life to our world now. Their role in our ecosystem comes in keeping the levels of predatory insects low; they can eat several times their own weight in mosquitoes daily. And while outsiders tend not to think of high-desert lands as particularly fraught with such biting pests, climate change has altered our ecosystems, too. And we have better cause than most to know the deadly effects of the West Nile virus that too many of them now carry.
Beyond that, the presence of dragonflies in number is a good indicator of water quality. Our water has always been exceptionally good here; the aquifers hold pure waters with excellent taste, and even the groundwaters that form the habitat of these small spirits tend to be clear and clean. That is especially true for the waters that pool here on our land, flowing downstream from the mountain river and lake. Small wonder that, in some traditions, dragonflies are regarded as messengers of the spirits; our peoples have always needed to arrange our communities around the presence of potable water, and how much better to have the guidance of the spirits in seeking it.
But beyond that, dragonflies have also been honored as spirits of love and joy. Small wonder, that, too, given their beautiful iridescent colors, their ethereal wings, their penchant for dancing on wind and light. If their scattering of pollen is incidental, their scattering joy and life is not.
Such reflections put me in mind of this week’s featured throwback work: earrings in the shape and spirit of Dragonfly. This was one of a pair of pairs, both commissioned by the same dear friend, but for different recipients; the stone colors needed to be similar, but not identical, and the stampwork, of course, needed to be individualized.
This pair, shown above, was built around a duet of garnet cabochons: deep rich red the color of fine wine, yet translucent, too, able to catch the light and refract it back along the wings and body of each piece.
These are also entries in what might be called a sometime-series by Wings, delicate yet long and dancing dragonfly earrings that are as simple in style as they are complex in symbolism. He’s created several pairs over the years, some with articulated wings, others, as here, with wings formed of a sheet of shimmering silver, stamped just enough for a little extra radiance.
These began with the stones, chosen for color by the friend who commissioned them, but the setting of them would be one of the final steps in the creative process. This particular style begins with a length of sterling silver half-round wire, cut into two equidistant lengths, then filed smooth on the ends.
As I’ve noted here before, the term “wire” is a bit misleading, since it conjures in the lay mind notions of a long strip of metal thin enough to cut. In silversmithing parlance, “wire” of this sort refers to metal of varying gauges (weight and thicknesses) that is melted, then poured into an extremely long mold of a given shape or pattern, allowed to cool, and then turned out and cut to length. It’s sold in feet, not inches, and it ranges from wire that is so slender as to be truly knife-sharp to thick, chunky blocks of elongated metal, solid and very heavy. The molds vary, too: round, half-round (as here; think of a half-sphere), square, triangle, bead, pattern (which can range from flowery to geometric to nearly any category of pattern you can image). These are formed of half-round wire of a middling gauge, the flat bases serving as the underside of the dragonflies’ bodies, the half-round surface, the top. Once cut to length, he bent them very gently into a natural curve, the better to suggest motion and flight.
And so the stampwork you see that traces a path down each body? That’s stamped on a very narrow, curving arc. It’s not easy to keep the patterns consistent atop such a curvature, much less when the motif you’re using is its own flowing water design. But it’s perfect to suggest the rounded elegance of an actual dragonfly’s body.
Next, he turned his attention to the wings. Dragonflies possess paired wings on other side, one arrayed above the other, and so he needed to evoke that duality. With these, intended for such slender bodies and with the stones’ color and beauty intended to have special focus, he elected to keep it simple and spare. He cut two small sheets of solid silver, thin and lightweight, yet substantial enough not to bend with wear. Each was a matched rectangle, corners slightly rounded and filed smooth. He then took his jeweler’s saw and, beginning at each outer edge of each rectangle, cut out a small crescent, first on the top half, extending nearly to the middle of the rectangle, then on the bottom half, the two gentle arcs meeting at their inner ends. He excised the bit of silver in between, and, once complete, two wide wings had effectively become four graceful, narrow ones.
Wings then chose a particular stamp to provide the one bit of ornamentation the wings wound bear. It’s an arcing serrated design, points like a graduated series of rays, rising on either side to meet at a central high point. It’s one he most often uses to evoke the imagery of the sunrise, and here, it played a dual role: on a practical level, highlighting the separation of wings; on a symbolic one, summoning the idea of Dragonfly carrying the light on his wings. Once the stampwork was complete, he soldered the wings carefully into place a few millimeters from the top of each “body.”
Next, he turned his attention to these small spirits’ heads. And this was the reason for leaving space above the wings: It would be needed for the dragonflies’ jeweled heads, and more to the point, for the bezels that would hold them. And he meticulously soldered into place a small round bezel at the upper tip of each piece — plain, low-profile, nothing to distract from the stones themselves. lastly, he soldered a tiny jump ring onto the back of each bezel at the very tip; this would hold the earrings wires. Then he oxidized each piece, paying careful attention to the stampwork on wings and body, then buffed them both to a glowing medium-high polish.
All that remained, in practical terms, was to set the stones and attach the wires. The two garnets were translucent, yet deeply hued and saturated with color. Once laid into the bezels, with the backing of the silver, they glowed with as much fire as the silver of the polished wings and bodies against which they were set.
Hand-buffed one more time and blessed in the traditional manner, they were then sent on their way . . . to fulfill one of the roles of their real-life counterparts, scattering joy and life.
~ Aji
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