It is COLD.
The forecast predicted an overnight low of -3, but apparently in the early dark hours of this morning, the mercury plunged to 6 below. At that hour, there is always a north wind, so the wind chill must have been bitter indeed.
These are dangerous days at the best of times now, but this is the kind of cold that turns them more immediately deadly.
The light is returning, slowly, but light or no, we shall have many more months of extreme cold and snow to get through . . . punctuated, if recent years of residual effects of climate change are any indication, by periods of unseasonal warmth and a parching drought. Coupled with the rest of this terrible year, particularly the deadly global pandemic that, thanks to the forces of colonialism, not merely took hold in the first place but still rages unchecked a year later, the world is a dark and forbidding place now.
But the light is always with us.
Now, we are granted the gift of the white light of winter, that which embraces and embodies all the shades of the spectrum in the silvered glow of the coldest fire. In this place, that may mean a sun dog, or two or three; a light pillar; even, rarely, a winter’s rainbow; or simply the stark white light of the storm emergent from the gray of a distant bank of snowclouds. Yes, it seems a cold light, but even if we cannot immediately perceive its warmth, it is there all the same; it’s what keeps our world alive now, and us with it, and we are grateful for it: grateful enough, in fact, to do our part in singing and praying Father Sun across the sky now, when his journey is most arduous. It’s a gesture of love, on both sides.
Such thoughts reminded me, on this cold morning the outside world knows as Christmas Eve, of a work from some four years ago at this time: one of a group of four works commissioned by a dear friend as holiday gifts for members of her family. All four were pins: three for her nieces, each in the same general concha style of shape, each with different stampwork and set with a different stone to suit each young woman’s spirit and gifts; and a fourth for the mother in the shape of a Corn Maiden, her traditional dress set with four tiny cabochons, one in each stone found in her daughters’ pins (amber, citrine, rainbow moonstone), plus an amethyst to represent her son. I’ve featured the Maiden and the amber and citrine brooches in this space already; today’s featured #TBT work is the final pin, the one set with the white light of winter itself in the form of a rainbow moonstone.
In this particular instance, the work began with choosing the stones, because our friend specifically wanted to match the round cabochons in her nieces’ pins to the smaller ones in the pin for her sister. We needed to be able to ensure that they would match, and at this time of the year, that’s often harder than you might think, particularly when the cabochons need to match in size and shape as well as color and material. Fortunately, Wings had enough in inventory, as I recall, that I think we only needed to order the amber (or my sense of time from those busy days might be off, and he might already have had it just to stock up).
At any rate, stones selected, he set about creating the pins themselves. The three concha-style brooches were in fact based off the design of a pair of Wings’s earrings that our friend had earlier purchased for herself, a stunning pair of small domed and stamped conchas set with beautifully outsized, fiery amber cabochons. The earrings were significantly smaller than the pins would necessarily be, but he kept the design true to style and shape: round conchas saw-cut in a scalloped pattern entirely freehand and all in one go, with concentric rings of stampwork from near the center stretching outward to the edges, then domed from the reverse, repoussé-fashion in the traditional concha shape, a small jewel rising seemingly organically from the dome’s center. The earrings were just slightly too small for the final touch he added to the pins, a delicate hoop of twisted silver edging the stone.
As noted above, Wings cuts such pieces entirely freehand and all in one go, meaning that once he starts, he doesn’t stop until it’s complete. it’s a question of momentum, and experience and talent and skill, too; once he gets underway, he finds the necessary rhythm and is able to keep going forward, all around the circle in the scalloped shape, without needing to hesitate, reverse, or repeat himself. It’s a skill born of long experience at traditional cut-work, but it’s also a gift, one that involves sharp focus and steady hands.
Once the pin, still flat, was freed from the surrounding silver, he set to work designing the stamped patterns. Each of the three pins would bear three concentric hoops of patterns, and of those three, the outer one would be the same for each: a radiant sunrise motif placed carefully on each scallop at the very edge. You can see the version of the pin set with amber here; the one set with citrine, here.] The arc of the raise ends in a tiny hoop at either base, and Wings was careful to align the hoops as he repeated the stamp around the edges.
For the middle ring of stampwork, he chose a flowing-water motif, a symbol that looks a bit like an elongated tilde. He uses it most often to represent the flowing surface waters of the earth — rivers, streams — that are a symbol of life and breath and abundance, a perfect motif to set below the rising sun a new dawn at the edges. He also uses it on occasion to represent a more immediate symbol of abundance, particularly in our world: falling rain.
The inner ring was one that I thought was an inspired choice for this particular pin, given the stone that would be set at its center . . . and also, frankly, given the other two stamped designs that embraced it. It was a high-arcing half-hoop, one that echoed but the scalloped shape of the pin itself and the sunrise motif at its edges. It reminded me of nothing so much as a rainbow, or a sunbow, that brilliance that is the white light of winter, limned in color and tinged with magic.
What you also need to understand is that none of this imagery was an accident. Our friend shared with me some aspects of her nieces’ identities, their personalities and personal preferences when it came to how they engaged with the world around them, and Wings worked very hard, drafting input from me in the process, to design each pin in the way best suited to the spirit of each young woman, down to stone choice and symbolism incorporated.
Once the stampwork was complete, he turned the piece over and added his hallmark; then, using a special small anvil and hammer, he domed it gently, repoussé-fashion (meaning, simply, “from the reverse”) into the classic concha shape. Lastly, he added the pin assembly. Then he turned it right-side-up again, fashioned a small round bezel soldered securely and squarely at the center, then edged it in twisted silver. All that remained were to oxidize all the stampwork and the joins of bezel and twisted silver, the better to make the designs stand out in sharp relief, then buff it to a high polish just a shade or so off a mirror finish. Finally, he set the stone: a beautifully chatoyant, positively radiant cabochon of rainbow moonstone, the glowing gray-white of the light of a winter storm, refracting the blues of the sky and the red-gold fire of the sun.
I have no favorite among the three of these pins each speaks to my spirit in a different way. But I would be lying if I said that this one did hold a special place in my heart: for its colors, its patterns, its evocation and embodiment of the white light of winter. And it reminds us now, when there is so much that is evil surrounding us, that the light is always there. If there is a message for this day, it is to seek it, to honor it, and to fulfill its purpose in our own work now.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2020; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.
