On Tuesday, I mentioned in passing that Wings has long created works in a feather motif: cuff bracelets and occasionally pendants (and, although I omitted its mention then, also tiny delicate earrings) coaxed from silver into the form and shape of an eagle feather. It’s imagery that holds great symbolism for our peoples, one now recognized intertribally as a sign of power, of medicine, of the sacred.
In light of this week’s emerging subtheme, of the need to be mindful of the fact that the world exists in full and complete form even when we are afforded only the briefest glimpse of it, it seemed appropriate to feature this ancient symbol of Spirit’s power.
In recent years, Wings has created a few such pendants, eagle feathers anchored by a precious gemstone at the top. Among those whose images I found during a quick search of my files were one with a round cabochon of Sleeping Beauty turquoise at its base; another with an oval of opalized serpentine; and this one, held fast by a fiery amber orb. It looked for all the world like a miniature sun, ablaze in universe often dark and cold.
And, indeed, that is one of the ways in which our peoples use Eagle’s feather: to invoke Medicine, the blessings of the spirits, to protect us and light our way. When we burn cedar, it is the feather we use to send the smoke spiraling heavenward, to carry our prayer to Spirit. For some of us, it is a daily ritual and obligation, outside at dawn beneath a rising Father Sun, beneath the purifying smoke that lifts our prayers to their destination.
And so the work very nearly named itself: Greets the Sun, an expression of of duty, of ceremony, of hope.
The amber cabochon that anchored the piece was truly breathtaking: a fiery orb aswirl in dancing flames, every conceivable shade of orange, from metallic gold to near blood-red in the light. It was held firmly in the grasp of a simple scalloped bezel, one with a low profile to allow the stone’s essential fire to shine. The setting had been cut of a piece with the feather itself, a feather whose barbs were given form and definition with a jeweler’s saw, whose tiny individual barbules, the single fibrous strands that collectively form the feather, midwifed into being by dozens, perhaps hundreds, of individually hand-stamped lines. The shaft was a separate piece, an overlay of extraordinarily slender half-round wire, given texture and depth by a chased pattern of hand-stamped traditional symbols, then soldered down the center of the feather, enough left at the base end to wrap securely several times around the the shaft of the setting between feather and bezel. Wings hung it on a simple silver chain, no extraneous color or texture to divert attention from the blazing sun beneath the bail. It’s a piece he created some five or six years ago, one that sold a few years later to a client and friend for whom the idea of stepping out into the world once again to greet the sun held very personal meaning.
This morning, Father Sun shines in this place with a similar fire, awaiting the gift of the smoke that accompanies our prayers. It’s time to go outside to greet him.
~Aji
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