MINERALARTS: Iron and Thorn

“LADY OF THE LAKE”

Fossil mammoth ivory with blue vivianite stripe, Madagascar “Ocean Wave” picture jasper, Indonesian basalt lava beads, tumbled aquamarine chips, copper tube beads and wire, hot-forged copper curly cone, sterling silver.  Custom necklace for a friend.  I cut the mammoth ivory to match the stripe on the jasper cabochon.  Fastens at the front with the copper hooks.

First in an occasional series of natural history book reviews.

THE GREAT CACTI:  ETHNOBOTANY AND BIOGEOGRAPHY, by David Yetman, 2007.  University of Arizona Press, 297 pages, hardbound.

This beautiful book contains photos and descriptions of more than 100 species of giant columnar cacti in North, Central, and South America.  As the title says, it includes detailed distribution maps and plenty of details on current and historical indigenous use of each species.  But it is most valuable for its photos and natural history discussions, for which it is the only widely available comprehensive resource on these cacti.  The United States is home to only three giant cacti:  the senita and organ pipe (both almost entirely restricted to Organ Pipe Cactus National Park) and the saguaro (southern Arizona and extreme SE California).  Americans who have cactus gardens or who vacation in Mexico may be familiar with a handful of others.  But this book records all the columnar cacti (many of which are rare, localized, and poorly known) and is a celebration of their beauty and diversity.

Each genus has a brief botanical discussion, followed by a description of each species, including growth form, preferred habitat, and any uses that local and/or indigenous people have found for it (many species produce edible fruit and usable lumber).  There are photos of most species growing in their natural habitat, fruit (especially if it is gathered for food or sold in markets) and many unusually large individuals, protected or cultivated stands of cacti, and buildings or furniture made from cactus wood.  The writing style is accessible and informal, which means that anyone - regardless of scientific or natural history background - can enjoy and learn from this book.  As a naturalist, I would have preferred more specific botanical details and technical drawings for each species, and a more concise and uniform presentation of ethnobotanical information (these paragraphs are informative, but tend to be rambling and opinionated).  Oddly and unfortunately, the book’s treatment of the saguaro is perfunctory and incomplete.  Far more information is available on this cactus than on any of the others, and I think the author missed a great opportunity to use this familiar icon as a significant educational ”ambassador” for the other giant cacti.  Despite its shortcomings (which may reflect the publisher’s preferences rather than those of the author), THE GREAT CACTI is lovely and inspiring, and a valuable gem among desert natural history books.

Today I uploaded my webpages on Arizona’s xerophytic ferns.  There is an introductory page and a field guide.  It’s not finished, but comments and suggestions are welcome.

http://www.mineralarts.com/ferns/desertferns.html

I won’t be able to photograph more ferns until the winter rains bring them back to life, so the project will be on the shelf until after the Winter Solstice.  Meanwhile,  here’s a red-spotted toad contemplating Argyrochosma jonesii growing in a cool shady limestone hollow under saguaros.

I’ve chosen the 28 lichen samples for the Graphis oracle, developed a sequence of glyphs, and am now working on the ink drawings.  Meanwhile, here is a simple oracle that I developed a couple of years ago using double-terminated reverse-sceptred quartz crystals.  I have a large collection of these, and chose my favorites for the oracle.  They are similar to the famous Herkimer diamonds and formed in limestone of the same age, but are more complex in structure and have dark petroliferous cores.  I spent some time contemplating each crystal, writing down words or phrases that seemed to describe its intuitive significance to me.  After a few experimental throws, the meaning of each stone solidified and I kept only those that were consistently significant, weeding out the ones that only added “noise” to the reading.  I ended up with ten crystals:

TOP (left to right):

1.  ice - smoke - walking alone (note that this is a dipyramid, with no prism faces)

2.  teacher - sanctuary - purification

3.  converging - roots - stream confluence

4.  diverging - tree branches - fire

5.  whirling - creation - complexity

BOTTOM (left to right):

6.  water - healing mist - concealment (this is waterworn, frosted, with rounded edges)

7.  sky bridge - setting out

8.  underworld tunnel - return

9.  myriad - tower of light - sun

10.  twin, double or partner - subconscious - moon (two crystals intergrown)

To use the oracle, I roll or shake the crystals in my hand, throw them on the table, and read their orientations and positions relative to each other.  It’s surprisingly powerful for occasional use to get a sense of direction and atmosphere on large questions that will probably develop slowly.  It seems to be quite personal and I haven’t tried to use it for anyone else.  Unlike the Tarot or the I Ching, it isn’t suitable for everyday use or for situations that are changing quickly.  This oracle has a clarity and timeless feel that probably comes from the transparency of the crystals, their sharp-edged shapes, and their double points.  The dark cores add a sense of depth, movement, and mystery, like black water flowing under ice.  Pebbles and many other items could be used the same way, but the feel of the oracle would be different.

These are glyphs that I selected from photos of Graphis scripta, the Writing Lichen, one of a large group that grows on smooth bark of subtropical hardwoods.  Several Graphis and related species are common on American holly at Nags Head Woods and Buxton Woods, and last month I took photos as reference material for a lichen oracle (part of my Moon Oracle project).  The “glyphs” are the spore-bearing structures (apothecia), which are round in most lichens but in this group they are narrow and are called lirellae.  Depending on the species, the lirellae may be linear, branched, star-shaped, or labyrinth-like. 

Graphis scripta is one of the first lichens that I learned as a child.  I was fascinated with the rune-like designs, and wondered how to “read” them and what they would tell me.  But the idea of creating an oracle came much later.

A few years ago, I dreamed of a giant fossil tortoise shell with designs carved on the dome of the carapace.  I remembered and sketched some of them, and ultimately found them in a book on the I Ching - they were characters of the ancient script that is assigned to the 64 hexagrams.  I hadn’t studied the I Ching before, but I began to work with it a bit, and found that I was most fascinated with the characters and hexagrams - the commentary didn’t interest me as much.   I wanted a simpler, more intuitive oracle, and some of the characters reminded me of Graphis lichen figures…so the idea of a Lichen Oracle was born, and now I am beginning to develop it.  When choosing glyphs from lichen photos, I’ve found that symbols stand out in natural groups, and my mind assigns a preferred orientation - some of them don’t look right if they are “upside down”.  The panel above is a rough draft, one of several from which I’ll choose the final symbols and re-draw them in ink with more realistic detail.

This is the beginning of winter, when the creeks turn black and the ground - not just the air - begins to grow cold.  I’ve done elaborate rituals in some years, crossing a creek to journey into the Underworld.  Other years I’ve turned my desk into an altar to friends, teachers, and ancestors who have crossed over.  This year called merely for simple personal rituals for protection, and a noisy walk up the street with my bells during trick-or-treat time.  The real activity came later, as owls hooted, coyotes and dogs howled, my cats prowled, and I lay awake staring into the moonlight…until dawn brought calm silence and golden light, and the usual clear, empty feeling that this day always brings - that sense of suddenly being in a new place, a bit lonely but holding humble new possibilities.

The header photo for my blog shows the leaf rosette of Graptopetalum bartramii (Bartram’s Stonecrop), a rare succulent from the oak woodlands of southeastern Arizona’s “sky island” mountain ranges.  The plants are blooming now, with half-inch flowers scattered along a stalk that grows about a foot tall.  More photos of this and related plants can be found on my “Stonecrops and Rock Mat” page:

http://www.mineralarts.com/cactus/graptopetalum.html

“Graptopetalum” means “writing petal” and refers to the red spots and/or stripes that separate this genus from other stonecrops with similar-looking leaves.  The blooms are surprisingly subtle.  The beautiful leaf rosettes have a strong presence year-round, yet they are also quite fragile and the plants are extremely picky about growing conditions.

Here’s my new picture jasper pendant, strung on hemp cord with copper tubes and African cast-glass beads.  The bag is made of two different pomegranate-dyed hemp/cotton fabrics, hemp drawstrings, silk tassels, padded with cotton batting.  The stone is a volcanic pebble from Lake Superior.

Picture jasper comes in many varieties, and each locality has its own characteristic colors and patterns.  I’ve made a lot of picture jasper jewelry, including a couple of pieces that I wear all the time.  Most of them don’t appear on my website (though a photo gallery of the stones I’ve used might be pretty).  I am very picky about the patterns, and have been known to pass up an entire room full of fancy cabochons at the Tucson gem show, then come home and buy an inexpensive stone on ebay.  But I usually find one or two stones each year at the show.  The shape of the stone doesn’t matter, as long as it’s well cut, and the colors are of secondary importance to the pattern - the scene has to be geologically convincing, emotionally compelling, and (ideally) remind me of somewhere I’ve been.

The stone in this pendant is quite large, about two inches long.  It won’t be for sale, since the polish on the stone is uneven and less glossy than the high-grade material that I usually use.  This is a common problem with picture jasper, since it is weathering, fractures, and increased porosity in the stone that allow water to deposit the colorful iron oxides.  But the scene reminds me of the waves and shifting sand at the Cape Hatteras Point, and the shape of the stone accentuates this effect, though it’s awkward to set, as the photo shows. 

My backyard pomegranates are ripe and many are splitting open.  I ate the first one in celebration of the New Moon.  This year, the seeds are cranberry pink, not dark red, and are very sweet.  Desert pomegranates often ripen while the skins are salmon pink.  By the time the skin turns deep, bright red, the fruit has usually split open and a variety of birds and insects have made off with the seeds.  Unpicked fruits will dry on the tree and are very decorative in winter.

The pomegranate originally grew wild in the dryland forests of Afghanistan, Persia, and north India.  It has long held special status as a medicinal and mythological plant throughout the Mediterranean, where it has been cultivated for longer than almost any other fruit.  The Spanish brought it to the New World and it is still popular in barrio gardens.  I have loved them since I was a small child.  My grandmother had an old tree in her yard in central Virginia.  It had abundant double blossoms and large glossy leaves, but in that climate the plants do not set fruit.  When I moved to Arizona, I was delighted to find “real” pomegranate trees that have delicious fruit and look much like their wild ancestors if they are allowed to grow without pruning, as mine has been.

Although they aren’t native here, our climate and the oak forest are similar to those of their land, and they hold the essence of autumn in the desert.  The fruit tastes strong and alive, like blood would taste if it were made of sunlight on pink earth rather than rust in seawater.

I’m doing a series of yin-yang cats for a T-shirt.  The next step will be a larger “whole cats” drawing!

Other black and white art:  I finished sewing both pieces of this autumn outfit - the ankle-length jumper is Japanese cotton dobby cloth in charcoal printed with litte gray birds.  Buttons are made from a big catfish bone that I found in western Kentucky several years ago.  Underneath is basically a muslin nightgown with ruffles at the collar, sleeves, and hem - the long length looks better than a shirt.

Clouds from Mexico’s hurricane arrived yesterday evening, along with the faint smell of the ocean that we sometimes get with these September storms - it’s always a wonderful surprise in the desert.  This morning we awoke to a steady, gentle rain that continued for a couple of hours and left the air feeling cool and soft.  Green shoots are ripening into fruits and seedpods.  Young tree roots and branches are thickening, bark is forming, and growth slows as the equinox approaches.