We’ve spent the week looking at red, a color not yet much in evidence here, with spring’s full arrival so late. We have a few hot pinks and bits of crimson here and there, some early honeysuckle blooms and one bright scarlet poppy, but for the most part, we’re simply glad to see that our world has finally gone mostly green. The stands of cottonwood and elm across the highway are at long last in full leaf. The grass, if nothing else, is already long and lush, ready for mowing save for a few still-brown patches here and there.
And the small bright spirits of the warmer months have begun to return: the hummingbirds, the honeybees, the butterflies.
Most of our butterflies tend to be small, relatively sober spirits, whites and sulfurs in simple and modest dress. The most flamboyant tend to be the western tiger swallowtails, black edged in light yellow lace, with iridescent blue dots like periwinkles on the robes of their wings. In between the two, we have the mourning cloaks, who manage to be both bright and subdued simultaneously: wings the color of deep burgundy wine, edged in ivory and black.
Once in a great while, we get one in more colorful robes, usually one who has detoured temporarily on its migratory path. Such, perhaps, was the inspiration for today’s featured work, a throwback to 2010 or so. Wings has created a number of butterflies over the years, virtually all of them in the form of pendants and pins, in a wide array of colors and patterns. The basic outline, of course, is wrought from sterling silver: body segments formed from bezels that will eventually hold colorful stones; wing pairs spread wide, each set displaying unique hand-stamped designs; antennae created by way of slender lengths of fine silver wire, coiled in place by hand. As with all works wrought by hand, no two have ever been alike even in terms of outline; the stampwork adds to their individuality. But it is in the choice of stones that form each wingéd spirit’s body that he gives each its most unique identity.
In this particular case, a pendant, he chose an unusual stone for the butterfly’s head: an oval cabochon of bright green unakite, one that was unusual even among its peers. Most unakite is a bright, soft spring green shot through here and there with lines and patches of peach- to bright orange-colored matrix. The contrast may be bold or subtle, depending mostly on the manifestation of the matrix itself. But it’s rare to find other colors infused throughout the stone.
In this instance, the green of the stone was the usual shade, the color of new grass. It was the matrix that made it unique: The entire cabochon was awash in faint lines, not merely of peach but also of pink and hints of blue. The pink is likely a variant shade of the feldspar that forms the bright peach matrix. The green in unakite is due to the presence of a mineral called epidote, and I suspect that blue in this stone was simply a natural variant shade; I’ve seen photos of epidote in its rough form that look nearly turquoise in color. Regardless, the color combination of this particular cabochon was unusually spring-like, reflecting the shades of our trees in new leaf.
The body, however . . . that was fire. It was formed of an especially beautiful free-form cabochon of apple coral, again, subtle and bold simultaneously. In this instance, the melded bits of natural coral detritus had coalesced into a pattern much more reminiscent of fossilized coral, an orbicular repeating pattern across the cabochon’s surface. Within its whorls, the reds ebbed and flowed and eddied in a mysterious swirl of scarlet and crimson, pink and amber, gold and bronze. Together, they were free-form fire, bits of the sun itself aflash between the butterfly’s wings.
It was a piece for this season, brilliant intensity tempered by softness, the perfect antidote to the pale colors of a protracted winter. It resides now with a friend who lives in a climate with a similarly long cold season.
It was a work whose spirit was manifest in hints of green leaf and flashes of red flame, a soft and gentle spirit adance on spring winds.
Its name was Joy.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2016; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owners.
