As was the case yesterday, today’s forecast denies any chance of rain. It’s an aberration this time of year; normally, we would be in for at least one small shower, perhaps more, throughout the afternoon. This year, all bets are off.
Even so, unlike yesterday’s brilliant clarity, this day has dawned beneath a veil of gray clouds. Even as the air carries a sharp autumnal edge, the feel of water not far above us is a tangible thing.
In other words, it’s a perfect day for today’s featured throwback: one of Wings’s collectible works from about nine years or so ago.
It’s a miniature collector’s spoon, one of a whole series that he created over the course of several years, roughly from 2008 to 2011 or so. This one was always one of my favorites, not merely for the cobalt cabochon at the end of the handle, but for the imagery that dances down its surface like a cascade of raindrops.
But, as always, the work begins with form and shape.
Wings cuts his spoons freehand from a sheet of sterling silver. It’s not an especially easy of quick process: For collector’s spoons, the silver needs to be of a sufficiently substantial gauge, much like the thickness of an ordinary spoon, and they are not cut out with anything approaching shears, but rather, with an exceedingly small jeweler’s saw. The basic outline requires more shaping and detail work, but first comes the stampwork.
In this instance, he chose primarily water- and storm-related patterns for the accents: A pair of half-moon-like crescents, back to back, at the tip of the handle, like the lunar pull of the tides; two pairs of arrowhead-like shapes arrayed facing each other, creating, symbolically, a remarkably cloud-like formation. Beneath them, he placed a single stylized heart — heart of the sky and heart of the storm, yes, but more to the point, a sign of the spirits’ love for us in the form of the rain. Then he returned to the thin crescent pattern, creating a chased design down the length of the handle, each crescent back to back and end to end, linked in an inverse/obverse rhythm — taken together, a symbol of flowing water. On the open side of each crescent, he placed a single tiny hoop, a symbol of the rain, each drop cascading down the handle to flow into what would become the bowl. The bowl itself featured a winged vortex-like symbol, out of which emerged four arrows: thunder, wind, and storm itself, delivering Thunderbird’s gift, bolts of lightning.
Once the stampwork was complete, it was time to finish shaping the spoon itself. Wings turned it over and hammered the bowl over a small raised (obverse) anvil, repoussé-fashion, to turn the flat oval disk at the end into a three-dimensional spoonbowl. Once the shape was finalized, he filed the edges by hand all the way around, beveling them slightly and turning the roughened metal silky smooth. Finally, he soldered a plain, low-profile bezel in the shape of a square to the end of the handle, and set it with a beautifully intense cobalt blue cabochon of lapis lazuli.
This was one of Wings’s earlier spoons, and it sold right away— no surprise to me, given the imagery and the beauty of the stone and the way it all flowed together. If memory serves, it sold about this time of year: the raining season, the time when the water flows freely — rain cascading downward from the sky, racing on the wind and across the surface of the earth.
As the symbolism of the tiny heart on the handle attests, the rain, like this season, is a measure of the spirits’ love for us. It’s a lot to be contained in the bowl of a spoon.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2017; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owners.
