Ben Nighthorse Campbell’s jewelry is not merely pretty—it’s hypnotic. It doesn’t just gleam; it radiates life. Rather than a composition of metals, the medium of his craft seems composed of actual starlight, tapped directly from the source. Inlaid into this silvery syrup are not just gemstones, shells, or crystals, but supernovas and comet streaks, tweezed directly from the cosmos. Ben painstakingly smelts and hammers these elements into cuff bracelets, earrings, pendants, buckles, and more.
“You need to learn the fundamentals of mechanical skills—pounding, shaping, bending, so on, but when you get all done—if you did it right—there’s an imprint of you,” he explains while nestled into his favorite armchair.
At 92, Ben is more stationary than he would prefer. Innately animated with boundless energy, Ben seems to have lived thousands of distinct lives within the span of a single lifetime—a decorated soldier, a judo master who competed internationally, a pilot, a motorcyclist, a Colorado state legislator and multi-term U.S. Representative and Senator who contributed to the creation of different national parks and monuments, Indigenous museums, and Lake Nighthorse, a water preserve in a dangerously drying southwest region.
Miraculously, Ben crafted a rather illustrious life from childhood poverty. Born in California, Ben and his sister moved in and out of orphanages while their mother battled tuberculosis. Sporadically, Ben’s father, a member of the Cheyenne Nation, passed on the rudiments of crafting jewelry. They’d set silver coins on railroad tracks and let passing trains smash them before transforming the softened material into adornments.
“We didn’t make it for fun in those days. We used to trade it for food,” Ben explains.
As a teen, Ben took up judo to fend off bullies. The martial training would prove pivotal in shaping the unlikely trajectory of his life.
Ben dropped out of high school and enlisted to fight in the Korean War. He was decorated for his service. Back home, he earned his GED and attended college on the G.I. Bill. He entered competitive judo and won several national titles.
He recalls, “When we found out that judo was going to be included in [the 1964 Olympics] for the first time, man, I wanted to be on that team! So, I sold everything I owned and bought a one-way ticket to Japan!”
He witnessed stunning acts of discipline and dedication in the dojo. Once, a student submitted to a chokehold and refused to tap out until he was on the brink of blackout. After he was released, Ben asked him, “What are you doing?” he asked. “I’m practicing not giving up.” Whoever heard of that? Of course, I understand it now. You just don’t quit,” Ben says with a firm nod. “I think the important thing of any Japanese martial art is that it’s not an end in itself. There’s a metaphysical means to it where you better your soul by that training.”
He’s right about that. Core tenets of traditional martial training are likened to the metalsmithing process. Incessant practice repeatedly heats and hammers a person’s spirit to refine, sharpen, and polish it. This is seishin tanren, or spirit forging. Test your mettle we say in the West—where mettle is the metal, or material, composing one’s soul.
This forging taught Ben to focus. “That’s a very important part of Japanese culture, focusing and dedication. Quietness. That produces interesting things,” he says. He used this quiet dedication to learn mokume-gane metalsmithing, a traditional Japanese technique of “marrying” different metals to create the appearance of wood grain. “I used to use that style,” Ben attests. “I think I might have been the first American to use it in Native American-style jewelry.”
Back in the states, Ben’s unique artistry stood out in major art competitions. Time and again, he took top honors. Soon, the world’s leading celebrities and jewelry stores were commissioning pieces from him. Ben credits his wife, Linda, for directing his steps to ever-greater achievements. “In our marriage I sometimes say I’m the engine and she’s the brakes! And if I didn’t have any brakes, I’d be in a wreck every other day!” he chuckles.
And while he likes to joke that he was tricked into entering state politics (because no one else would run for office), Ben’s real legislative accomplishments—passing more public laws than any member of the 106th Congress—suggest a genuine desire to make an impact.
Perhaps impact—the byproduct of careful hammering and heating—is not just how an artist leaves an imprint of himself on a finished piece, but also how a spirit forger combines so many arts into a single life that is a masterpiece.