Yesterday’s much-ballyhooed “storm” produced only the faintest dusting, one already melting on arrival. Late last night gave us one more bit of precipitation, riming the earth with a slushy mix of snow and sleet.
Today, the skies are a clear fierce blue, only a few empty clouds hovering at the very horizon to the distant west. There’s just enough wind here to keep the air’s edge razor-sharp, but for the hours we had to be in town this morning, the day was calm and warm and absolutely beautiful.
Mid-February, and spring has already swung fully into action.
At the moment, we have no waters for sampling, at least none pooled. But there is a definite feel to the days now, as though our small world is testing the winds, probing to see how far they are willing to commit to this new warmth and to the potential for growth that accompanies it.
In truth, we are testing, too, unsettled in our footing on a newly softened earth, unsure of our ability to withstand the gale force that is sure to come. Old patterns no longer hold; we cannot rely on the tangible lessons of the ancestors for planning now, but it is no better solution to rush headlong into the winds of the season to come than it is to allow ourselves simply to be carried along on their currents.
Each year now brings us new and measurable change, if often inconsistent in form and shape and effects, and each year requires more from us in every way: bodies, minds, hearts, spirits. We find ourselves calling upon every resource at our disposal now, learning both formal and otherwise, logic and analysis, not a little guesswork, every bit of wisdom and illumination we can glean from every conceivable source — and plenty of prayer and guidance sought from less tangible sources, every bit of medicine, too.
Today’s featured work is one in one of Wings’s signature series, the Warrior Woman — as I often say, the one perhaps closest to his heart. Because it is a series whose members now count themselves in scores at the very least, perhaps hundreds, I rarely highlight them here. But given the week’s various themes, this one, a throwback to seven years ago nearly to the month, seemed particularly suited to this moment.
In this instance, I believe the design began entirely with the silver. Wings created this one as part of a mini-series, as he so often does, of a few Warrior Woman pins at one time — in this instance, three of them. He usually chooses the stones around the time he begins work on them, but which stone will wind up in which work is mostly up for grabs until the very last. The other two pins included stampwork elements of directional imagery and sacred spaces, of celestial being and illuminating forces; one was given a deep blue lapis lazuli cabochon, the other, tiger’s eye.
This one was given the gentlest stone in the softest shade: jade, in the subtly bright shades of new leaves and fresh blades of grass. For a piece created in April, one scant month into spring seven years ago, it was perfect for the symbols that surrounded it: a traditional dress bearing a cascade of Eyes of Spirit down the front, each formed from paired lodge symbols conjoined at their open ends; the medicine motifs of Bear’s powerful, protective front paws tracking around the crescent moon in her left hand; shimmering faceted pattern wire along Serpent, draped over her right shoulder; a large full heart at the center of her chest. Taken together, it was the imagery of wisdom and illumination, of medicine and abundance: of fertility defined in its most comprehensive, accessible form, one that implies a world renewed, in good health and harmony.
The construction of the piece was straightforward, made in the same steps as his many other entries in this series. He generally lays them out, as noted above, in multiples, aware of where their outer edges will need to be even as he turns his focus to the stampwork details. Here, as noted above, the conjoined lodge formed Eyes of Spirit down the front of her dress and the bear-paw tracks accented the crescent moon in her hand; a fifth bear-paw image formed her air, wrapped in a traditional bun, while a single tiny divot created her one eye shown in profile, and stylized motifs that he uses variously for clouds and other designs were joined to create her cuffs. Stampwork complete, he excised her from the surrounding silver with a tiny jeweler’s saw, paying particular attention to such minute details as the articulated fingers in her right hand and the inner curve of the moon in her left, then filed all the edges smooth.
At this point, the foundation of the piece was complete. He then turned his attention to the overlay elements that would be added. He set a small piece of thin silver atop a tiny anvil, then chose a largish stamp in a classic heart shape. This would be stamped from the reverse, a technique known by the French smithing term repoussé, to punch the heart out of the silver, fully domed and three-dimensional. He set the heart atop the center of the chest and soldered it carefully into place. He then cut a small length of slender sterling silver pattern wire, in this instance, one patterned with a small faceted design covering its upper surface. He trimmed the top and bottom ends of the wire, then would the upper end carefully around the right “arm” of the pin in such a way that the faceted surface showed at all times. He then draped the long end over the pin’s “shoulder,” pulling it outward slightly away from the body, then flowing back inward to align with the legs and feet. This, too, he soldered carefully into place, at wrist and shoulder and lower side. Lastly, he soldered a tiny saw-toothed bezel atop the palm of the pin’s right hand. Then he turned the piece over and added his ahllmark and the pin assembly.
Now, the basic design elements were done. He oxidized the joins between the pin and the bezel and overlays, as well as all the stampwork, and buffed it to a glowing medium-high polish. Then he selected the jade cabochon from among the stones already laid out for this particular trio of pins: a choice inspired, perhaps, by the new growth of the early spring season, and by the motifs of medicine and illumination on the pin that spoke of life renewed.
Taken together, stampwork and stone produced a powerful effect. I know longer recall the identity of the buyer nor the name of this particular piece (those files are buried in storage somewhere), but I suspect it was something along the lines of “Spring Medicine”: a recognition of the healing and nurturing powers inherent in what, in this place, is that hardest season of the year.
It’s a recognition to keep in mind now, as the unsettled weather gives way all too soon to gale-force winds and storms of pollen interspersed with more traditional storms of snow and bitter cold. Like the earth, we are testing the winds now, and our own limits with them. We can use all the medicine we can get.
~ Aji
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