The faintest dusting of snow overnight has given way to indigo skies this morning. Still, the clouds are already gathering, and the forecast advises that the leading edge of tomorrow’s storm might yet arrive tonight.
It’s a good reminder of the need for vigilance: planning, yes, but it begins with simple awareness. We have cause to know this better than most, for we perforce must survive in a larger society that works particularly hard to remain unaware of history, morality, reality.
Fortunately, there will always be those warriors who stand up, who recognize what they can bring to the work of building a better world, and then set about doing the work. Some do it against improbable odds; the best of them keep their eyes on the long goal and decline to make the work about themselves.
Humanity being what it is, that’s an approach that’s shockingly rare, everywhere.
I’ve written before about the differences in how our various nations and communities approach concepts of leadership and recognition. In some, it’s an affirmative obligation to show public honor to those who do the work. In others, it’s considered inappropriate to accept such accolades. The thread that tends to link these widely disparate approaches, though, is an emphasis on humility.
It’s a character trait — and a way of living, of being — that systems of colonialism and capitalism and white supremacy make exceedingly difficult to maintain. But once in a while, a warrior comes along who possesses the qualities of a true leader, who is willing to put her own well-being on the line for the sake of others, who leads by lowering herself to do the work.
And even if it an only be done in private, it deserves to be recognized.
Last year, a couple of dear friends approached us about the possibility of creating a Warrior Woman pin for an Indigenous woman who was engaged in a groundbreaking effort politically, in an area of the country not known for respecting Indigenous people. I had to tell them that Wings was already in the process of making one for her as a gift, his way of honoring the path she was on and the work in which she was engaged. So they asked me instead about commissioning something she had already spoken publicly about loving and wearing long, dangling silver earrings. They were planning to raise the funds to pay for them, so, without at that point having any idea what form or shape they would take beyond the descriptor above, Wings agreed to a price well below his usual rate for something of this nature. He added that whether they raised the agreed amount in full was immaterial he believed in the cause and in the recipient, and would do it anyway.
I should note here that our friends, one in particular who lives in the region in question, did indeed raise the full amount. She did it the best way: mostly in small contributions dropped into a coffee can labeled accordingly and displayed at public meetings and events, ten here, five there, a regular smattering of one-dollar bills, even quarters. The people in our friend’s circles believed in it, too.
Meanwhile, Wings was already at work. He settled on an old traditional style: one that, in the area where we live, is generally referred to as “Comanche-style” because of its popularity for two centuries among the women of that nation, but that in truth is found all over this land mass. Today, many young Indigenous women call them “shoulder-dusters,” because, thanks to their length, that is exactly what they do. I own a few such pairs myself, although none in this particular form. Yet.
These were made of nine separate pieces of sterling silver per earring, eighteen total, all hand-punched and filed smooth. The anchors at the top are slightly larger than those in the cascading waterfall below, and kept flat, medallion style, the better to support the bezels that hold the oval lapis cabochons set into them. Each of the remaining seventeen pieces was domed slightly, repoussé-fashion, from the reverse. This turned each piece into a miniature concha, tiny versions of those larger forms used for the long belts traditional to the peoples of this region.
In this instance, Wings domed and punched the conchas simultaneously. It’s efficient, but leaves a little less space for stampwork on the front, so it requires the silversmith to have the end design firmly in mind at the outset. He had planned to keep the surfaces very spare, devoid of all but the most minimal stampwork, so it made sense to take this approach here. He chose to add only one tiny center stamp to the front of each concha, all the same save one per earring: seven conchas per earring (fourteen total) accented with a stylized Water Bird, a powerful symbol that, given the recipient’s nation and culture, would be bound to resonate; and one per earring (two total) with an equally stylized heart, one that appeared to dance, a symbol of the love for people and community that underlies the kind of hard work in which the recipient was engaged, love touched here, too, with a bit of pure joy, something she would need in the months and years to come.
He then drilled a tiny round hole in the center of the top and bottom of fourteen of the conchas; these would hold the jump rings linking them all together. The last two conchas were drilled only at the top; these would hang at the very bottom of each earring, and thus needed to attach only from the top.
Then he returned his attention to the anchor medallions, flat round pieces of silver with edges filed perfectly smooth. Before he could create the bezels, he needed to choose the stones, and this took a little thought. We had agreed that the stones should be blue, as befits the recipient’s political identity. But which blue? Wings had set the Warrior Woman he had already created for her with turquoise, a fine old oval in a delicate robin’s-egg shade. Sodalite was a possibility, but it’s very often marbled with off-white and pink. Lapis lazuli was the obvious choice . . .. but which lapis?
Lapis, even when purchased in bulk from the same lot, often runs the gamut of blues: everything from a pale stone-washed shade known as denim lapis to dark violet blue, and all points in between. Matrix varies widely, too, from a flamboyant surface dusting of the grays and whites of pyrite and host rock to virtually no matrix at all, only deeper shades of blue. At that time, Wings had several smaller lapis cabochons in his inventory, but most of the round ones were too small for these medallions, and some of the better blues were the wrong shape entirely.
And then there were the ovals. These were a perfect middling size, perhaps 10 millimeters, and the oval shape would suit the round medallions just fine. But the colors remained a question, because they were all over the map. After some searching, we located two of identical size and shape that were pretty clearly from the same deposit: high grade, virtually matrixless stone, manifest in a deep, magnetic cobalt blue with hints of violet throughout.
These were clearly the stones meant for this particular pair of earrings.
These two cabs had a decent amount of doming, but fairly low sides. And Wings fashioned a pair of saw-toothed bezels, the serrated edges perfect for holding such a surface shape securely while still allowing as much of the gem itself to show through. These he soldered seamlessly into place in the very center of each medallion, so that they appeared to rise organically from the silver. He then drilled a tiny hole in the bottom of each medallion to hold the jump rings that would connect the long strands of conchas, turned them over to attach the posts, oxidized the stampwork and the joins between bezel and surface, and tumbled them all gently to a soft, velvety Florentine finish. (As an aside, this is how tiny bits of silver, or particular thin or fragile ones, get polished: with a tumbler that can be “set,” by virtue of the shot and solutions included and the length of time it’s allowed to run, to produce a particular finish. Some pieces are too small or too delicate for a buffing wheel, or even for the pressure of hand-buffing. Gentle tumbling in a water solution over a given period of time solves this problem.
Once the tumbling process was complete, all the remained was to hand-dry them, link the conchas together, set the stones, and attach the concha strands to the anchor medallions. These steps completed, he gave each full strand a light buffing by hand. Then he blessed them, specifically for their recipient, and we sent them off to our friend. At a public even not long after, she presented them to the recipient.
In some traditions around the globe, blue is considered a color of leadership: the deeper the blue, the more powerful the link. It’s why blues have long been associated with royalty, particularly the darker shades that tend toward purple. I suspect that the link originally had mostly to do with the difficulty inherent in producing dark blue dyes: Working with indigo is an arduous process, and would therefor have been a costly one; royalty would be most likely and best able to afford it.
In our own traditions, blue sometimes holds a specific place in cosmologies and associated symbologies. For some, it’s associated with the direction west, which is also sometimes linked with elder-hood. It’s also associated with Water, the First Medicine, and with Sky, the dwelling-place of sun and moon and stars, and very often, other powerful spirits. But our spirits, particularly those of the ancestors, do not come to their powers in a vacuum, no do our more earthbound leaders. It requires work — the hard but willing labor that springs from a deep-seated love of one’s people and a desire to protect them and their well-being. And so, too, blue becomes a shade of service: a color of prayer, hope, and working for a new world.
As we close out one year and enter a new, we would all do well to follow the example set by the recipient of this work. Her own work, after all, has begun a new process of trying to create a better world for all of our children.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2019; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.
