The days are longer now, but the light remains a precious commodity here. Winter has plenty of life left in it, life that will last long after the spring equinox a little over a month away yet. On days such as this, with a new storm moving steadily toward us, even when the sun manages to move out from behind a cloud, the day remains essentially gray. But the clouds are perhaps the light’s greatest lover here, and together, they share that love of earth and sky, creating moments of pure beauty in both.
Such moments are ephemeral, yes; ethereal, too. There has always been a distinct spirit of otherworldliness about the powers of illumination brought to bear in this place. But when the light loves the world in the way it does here, it turns the sky into molten silver, the earth into a rainbow of jewels, enfolded in the embrace of a cosmic heart.
Today is, of course, the supposed day of love in the dominant culture: one theoretically devoted to honoring the patron saint of love and lovers, a day whose celebration exists in the pursuit and service of romantic love. It’s a heady mix of idealism and commercialism, woven of a history thoroughly warped, but its hold on the culture is nothing if not tenacious.
But the so-called patron saint of lovers (all three of them, in fact) was martyred for far more than the surface fact of the marriages he performed: At issue was not the institution of marriage per se, but of the sanctification of the unions of people who identified, or who were identified, in specific ways. It was, in other words, a martyrdom in service of the then-dominant culture’s political calculations, and of its bigotries large and small. And such accounts remind us of the limits of love in the face of such circumstances . . . and of the reasons to lift up those forced into the margins of oppression, however it manifests.
Love means bringing those consigned to the cold and the dark into the gifts of the light — not in any conversionist sense, but keeping with a fundamental edict found in various forms in cultures the world over. The light is neither doctrine nor dogma, not membership in any group save humanity itself; it is the basic principle of hospitality and kindness, the ones that feeds the hungry, shelters the homeless, heals the sick, welcomes the migrant, and otherwise loves others, family, friends, and strangers alike, as oneself.
And it reminded me of today’s featured work, a throwback of only a couple of months that manifests in the shape and shades of the day.
This was not a commissioned work. It was, instead, a gift, intended for a person who can less accurately be called friend than family. One aspect of her identity belongs to a group historically forced into the margins (one could accurately say, in some instances, martyred for it); and she embodies the very spirit of giving even as she practices the art of taking no nonsense. She is also a sister to me in more concrete ways; we share a birth sign and very nearly a birthday, and with them a love of the opals that have been assigned as our birthstone. A few years ago, she commissioned a ring as a birthday gift for herself, one with an oval milk opal cabochon as the focal point. At the time, Wings had only two such opals left in his inventory — i.e., genuine milk opals, nothing created in a lab, of decent size and similar shape, and both infused with an unusual degree of color and fire for their kind. For the ring, she chose the slightly smaller of the two, possessed of slightly greater intensity and range of color. That left one opal of its kind in inventory, and there it sat for a couple of years, waiting for the perfect inspiration.
It was intended to be a birthday gift for our friend, the work shown here today. But at that moment, the holiday crush had already begun; for us, because of the very nature of Wings’s work, the weeks from early October to Christmas are heavily telescoped by the pressures of the business. It became, perhaps, a belated birthday/early holiday gift instead.
And when Wings asked me what stone should be used, I seized on the opal.
It was a beautiful stone — so beautiful, in fact, that Wings decided it should have a very simple, spare setting that would keep its fire and glow firmly at the center. And so, he sketched out a simple heart, one in the classic shape, with a bail already attached, its extended tab built into the throat of the heart itself. He placed the stone inside it at the center to gauge the size, and, satisfied, he cut the heart freehand from sheet silver of a thin but still substantial gauge.
He then fashioned a gently scalloped bezel at the heart’s center: scalloped to keep a relatively low profile around the face of the stone, even as it bent inward to hold its lightly-domed body securely. Once the bezel was soldered into place, he turned his attention to the tab extending from the heart’s throat. This he gently bent double, then shaped it meticulously into a smooth, even loop, soldering it firmly into place at the back of the heart; this left the front surface smooth and organic. Then he oxidized the heart, with particular attention to the bezel, and buffed the whole piece to a medium polish. All the remained was to set the stone, string it on a highly polished sterling silver chain, bless it, and send it on its way.
It was one the simpler necklaces he’s created, particularly with regard to its organic, one-piece shape. It was also one of his more powerful ones: The opal, set against the sterling silver backing, took on a new depth, catching the light and refracting it through the greens and oranges and reds that are the measure of high value in a milk opal. It reminded me simultaneously of the light filtered through our storm clouds, and of the petals of a new blossom.
It’s fitting, that metaphor, especially on a day like today: When the light loves the world, the world opens like a flower. To endless possibility, yes . . . and to love. It’s a lesson we all could relearn now — for the world, and for ourselves.
~ 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.
