Fifty-one degrees before noon, and the only clouds in the sky appear to be not clouds at all, but a smoke plume spreading from north to south across the western sky.
We have seen smaller plumes, more local ones, too, over the last two days — apparent early burning, in a time when the winds are still too high for such activities.
Memories are short, it seems; common sense, shorter still. The mud on the ground from the relatively recent dustings of snow does not obviate the dangers of this twelve-hundred-year drought, but you wouldn’t know it by the behavior of the colonial world here, always in pursuit of the next earth-destroying, water-draining, profiteering development that no one but the developers wants.
The colonial world confuses love with “consumption” — it always has, and always will, because consumption [often of the most cannibalistic sort] is part and parcel of what it is, while genuine love by definition cannot be a part of it. Love heals, not destroys; it births and rebirths, cultivates and nurtures, helps its object grow. None of that is part of this ongoing, accelerating destruction of the local lands and water supply.
Right now, the skies are a hard clear blue, neither as bright as they could be nor as faded as extreme heat or cold might otherwise produce. They are, however, currently unwebbed by clouds . . . unless you count as clouds the gray-white pall of smoke. By sunset, that smoke will likely create a dusken sky beautifully matrixed with gold and amber and coral and copper, but it will be the dusty sort, rife with particulate matter and less illuminating that it is obfuscating.
Still, what will be apparent is a love shared by sun and sky, one in which light infiltrates and limns the alpine-desert blue.
This week’s #ThrowbackThursday featured work is a manifestation of this atmospheric and illuminating love, of its protective power and sheltering beauty. It’s a pendant that dates back, if memory serves, to around 2008; possibly 2009 or 2010, but if pushed, I’d say 2008. It’s built around a stunning heart-shaped specimen of Number Eight turquoise from Nevada, an electric robin’s-egg blue with a hint of spring green, finely webbed with that stone’s hallmark golden-hued spiderweb matrix.
This was a fairly large cabochon, perhaps between one and a half and two inches high, and a similar width across. It was, I believe, part of a parcel acquired from the vendor in Santa Fe, one of a mix of different turquoise cabochons, probably no two from the same mine source. This one was Number Eight turquoise from Nevada, cut in the shape of a classic heart, perfectly symmetrical with a deep, beveled throat. Wings chose to set it in a plain, low-profile bezel edged with a fine strand of twisted silver. The simple setting allowed the stone to speak, with its electric color and elaborate matrix; the only adornments would be the bezel’s backing and the bail.
As you can see in the image above, Wings added a little something extra to his hallmark: six stamped classic hearts, a larger one at the center surrounded by five slightly smaller ones, and four arrows placed individually between the smaller hearts. In his way, an arrow in such circumstances is less to do with Cupid than it is with life itself — what’s known as a heartline, usually seen on the front surface of a work that embodies a living figurative being, such as a carving of an animal or spirit being, the shaft of the arrow extending inward through the mouth, ending in the point somewhere in the body. It’s a signifier of the breath of life, and while some dealers will refer to it as a breathline or a lifeline, it’s always been known traditionally as a heartline, an overt link of heart with respiration, and thus with life, with being.
The bail was formed of two strands of sterling silver pattern wire of a slender but solid gauge, this particular pattern a raised floral-and-leaf design that resembled paisley and evoked the flowing grace of Art Nouveau imagery. Wings cut two lengths of it to match, then soldered them together at the center, spreading each pair of ends gently apart. Then he shaped them carefully into a loop, in turn soldering those paired ends to the back of the pendant and the very top of the bezel.
This one was sold as a pendant —no beads, no heavy or elaborate chain to turn it into a necklace. If memory serves, though, he did provide a simple sterling silver snake chain to go with it at the time that it was sold. It’s been so many years now that I no longer recall exactly when or to whom. But the design overall was one that honored life, love, breath, being: wrought in the form and shape and animating spirit of a stunning Skystone, manifest as a love shared by sun and sky.
It was a perfect incarnation for such a stone . . . and perfect medicine for a world so in need of it now.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2024; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.
