Wicked witches of the woods, or empowered wild women?

A strong older woman who is deeply intertwined with the wild around her

In the previous post, the first part to this one, I wrote a Haiku for Baba Yaga (yes, I did), and spoke a little about an illustration for Dr Sharon Blackie’s amazing book on reimagining the second half of life, Hagitude.

And I asked a couple of questions:

Have you read Hagitude? If so, what elder woman archetype did you most resonate with from Sharon’s tale telling and research?

And if you haven’t read the book but have a favourite old woman folktale or fairy story or work of fiction, I would love to hear that too. Maybe it is an elder woman from your own life who seemed fit for a fairy tale that comes to mind.

To get us started, I wrote:

For me, Sharon’s connection to the red kite and her personification of ‘old bone mother’ was an unexpected delight, and helped me see both these beautiful birds and the tale in a different light - the magic around both grew a little (or rather a lot) and when that happens I feel like I can almost see the gossamer threads that weave so much of this rich narrative we have woven with the wild over millennia (threads that are otherwise invisible it seems in this fast-paced, blinkered time).

But what followed were some really beautiful conversations, from string theory (yes, we went there, albeit briefly!) to befriending an elder neighbour, to many excited calls for crone circles and empowered gatherings. A few of us talked about feeling like we were born with crone energy, and how powerful it feels to be coming even further into that as our revolutions around the sun increase. Also how those old scary tales about Baba Yaga (particularly those born in Russia and surrounding countries, or with Eastern European influences in their young lives) take on a very different light both given the time we live in (compared to when they were first told) and as we age and settle into these skins covered with the evidence of life lived. There was also a recommendation for the Nordic goddess Eir, who I will be doing more reading on (while trying not to be bereft at the paucity of written evidence of powerful female Norse archetypes).

Examining my own relationship to (and perception of) age, I realise that thanks to my close relationship with my Nan, who was just shy of 101 when she passed, and with my Pa, who passed at the beginning of June this year, nearly 99, and who were both so vibrant right into their mid 90’s, ‘old’ or ‘elder’ to me conjures up 90+ years old. I know that is considered very-elder and perhaps not so common, but when you have more than one relative living to these ripe old ages - both of their mothers were very old, and Pa’s sisters have all been in their 90’s - it is normalised, to me. My parents are in their early 70’s, and despite the grey beard and hair my dad has, I don’t think of them as ‘elder’, and yet, not too long ago even in modern human history, they would have been considered quite old indeed. I don’t see myself as moving into elder either, despite grumbling about feeling old some mornings and after some more strenuous physical exercise (and at the music of today, haha). Perhaps it is because I did not have children. I know many women my age, 49, who are grandmothers - I could still imagine having a child now, but not having an adult child with children of their own!

And yet it is towards ‘elder’ that I walk, and indeed it is crone and old woman that has been in my blood for a very long time. At least as early as watching the animated Disney Snow white when I was young and thinking that the witch was a much more interesting character, and wanted to know more about her. Or reading fairy tales where there were ‘wicked witches’ that just seemed to me to be doing their thing.

As I wrote to Sharon,  

‘Before I learned about Baba Yaga, it was the witch in “Hansel and Gretel” and other Grimm tales that captured my attention. Were they really that wicked? Who decided that? What happened to make them want to live in the woods alone and away from everyone and everything we’re supposed to want out of civilisation? They felt wrongly maligned to me.

From Hagitude by Sharon Blackie, September Publishing, 2022

I have briefly told the story before about how I came to do the illustrations for this beautiful book of Sharon’s. You can read about that here. What I didn’t mention was that the initial iteration of Old Crane Woman was one of quite a few drawings that I did during a long recuperation period post partial hysterectomy and subsequent complications and infection that kept me from my full time work for almost 3 months. They were a very important part of my physical healing, and the knitting together of my broken heart. After more than two decades of ever worsening excruciating pain and heavy bleeding with endometriosis, adenomyosis, PCOS, and fibroids, it became clear after multiple surgeries that to have any quality of life I would need to make that final decision to remove that misshapen, scarred and torturous (for me) organ responsible for bringing forth life. I had always imagined myself a mother, I had always wanted and expected to feel the wonder of pregnancy, and it took a very long time for me to come to that hard decision, in spite of so many doctors and other women telling me that it was for the best and did not define who I am (and who also, mostly, had born children of their own). It was old woman energy, and folk tale energy, and fairy tale energy via those drawing prompts that let me scribble my way through the transition that surgery made to me physically and psychologically.

It is nearly five years on, and I am still with some pain and discomfort and hormonal upheaval of endometriosis mind you (no, a hysterectomy does no always solve the situation it seems), but the process of finding my way to mothering my creativity and the so very fertile energy of post-childbearing years has given me so much perspective and curiosity and compassion I may otherwise have missed out on. Who knows.

I do know I am here to honour the wild, and these wild women, and wild stories. It is a strong feeling of purpose as I allow the ideas to flow (an abundance overwhelming), and I only wish I had more time and more hands to be able to birth it all into the world. I also know the tales of these dangerous old women were told for a reason, at a time in history where we can only imagine the dangers that were present at the time, and the way they are represented has such different meaning now than it did to the norms of the time of their conception and sharing. But like many of us I am sure, like many of you that I have had conversations with here in the comments and via email, I can see beneath the characterisation to the power and resilience and exquisite embodied wisdom, and it puts a little twinkle in my eye.

I also asked Natalie about the inspiration for this particular image of the Baba. ‘She feels so real to me,’ she wrote, ‘and so I chose to represent her not as a wild-eyed, iron-toothed cartoon character, but a strong older woman who is deeply intertwined with the forest around her, who has so many tales to tell, and so much wisdom behind those eyes. That’s who she chose to represent herself to me as, as she “fell out” of my pencils – and I do try hard to listen, to be open to the voice of my subject, and let them guide me as I work. She feels deeply feminine, protective (of herself and of her forest), a skilled harnesser of earth magic, and all of this with a good dose of mischief thrown in. The cannibalism? The skulls on her fence? Well, no one begrudges a bear or a lion when they react to unwanted visitors – that’s the chance you take if you approach the forest without sincerity and an open heart, if your agenda is selfish and unkind, if you’re not prepared to listen and take heed. She represents the complexity of nature, rejecting societal norms, powerful and empowered. Oh, yes, I want to be Baba Yaga. Come and visit me someday, deep in the heart of the forest. I dare you!’

From Hagitude by Sharon Blackie, September Publishing, 2022

Although a different tale altogether, I fell in love with Magda in Leigh Bardugo’s The Witch of Duva: A Ravkan Folk Tale. Magda is much more the Baba Yaga I imagine. The tale points to the real dangers around the protagonist - and it is not the old woman in the woods (just like in real life). So I think there is a little Magda in my portrayal of the Baba. While I wanted to include some of the items that set Baba Yaga apart from other dangerous old women of the woods, they needed to be much less significant than the humanising aspect of her wide and wild and wise and open old face. That little skeletal tree is my own red oak, planted more than a decade ago, she grows so much with every passing year. In winter her twiggy frame is a thing of beauty, her own wisened part of the cycle. Just that tree to portray the forest, a little chicken legged hut (oh to have a chicken legged hut!), a sprinkling of skulls, as you do.

I have been working on solidifying a project around these {wild+woman} ideas for a while, jumping back and forth between different concepts and wishing I could do it all. I often forget how long it takes me to make the art that I do - it is not a quick process, it is painstaking and beautiful and slow. So I have to think in terms of weeks and months and years, not hours and days (yes, perhaps if I had a Time Turner like Hermione, or the ability to self replicate I would be able to accomplish it all, but alas no amount of wish-craft seems to make that happen).

The Wild Forgotten book is first on my list to work through, making the art I want to appear in the book, crafting the words, collaborating with you to sculpt and massage this project into being. But running alongside is the next big project, whose completion will not be for a couple of years I don’t think, but that I am every bit as excited about. What it is ultimately called is not yet clear to me, so I am sticking with {wild+woman} for now, because it is through the creating of these seven initial drawings that the ideas flowed. An oracle deck, a guidebook, a book filled with tales of elder women real and imagined, and perhaps other things beside. 36 cards, three suites (Land, Sky, Earth) of 13 cards each, and abundant imagery of women and wildness from middle age to elderhood. A celebration of mature energy, wisdom, and wonder. And of course, as the project continues along, I will ask you to be an important part of it all - I want to hear your wise women tales and memories and aspirations.

I have given you a sneak peek before, in this note:

~ one of the {wild+woman} from the ‘land’ suite. They will be manifested as oil paintings (gasp! I have not painted humans in oil paint before!) and in my head it is all very beautiful and wondrous and oh I hope I can pull it off!! Until The Wild Forgotten book is complete, I aim to try and get one of these painted each month (I aim, though reality may have a different take on the whole idea) to keep the project alive for me (and stop it from running like

Elizabeth Gilbert

describes in Big Magic to another creative that may be able to complete it earlier!).

I have so much more to say about this topic of empowered wild women, and about the {wild+woman} project, but I know this has been a long one already.

Two little things to add though:

The Super-Blue-but-not-at-all-blue moon.

Last night my family and I went down to the local beach and watched the second super moon of the month rise. It was a truly magical experience. I wrote on Notes this morning:

Last night I stood in the glow of the moon on the Pacific Ocean, feeling the pull of the waves in and out, sinking my toes ever deeper. It was quiet and it was cool (though my feet felt warmer in the water than out) and the only sound was the movement of this great body of water over rocks long pummelled to sand. I could see her great craters, the impact scars, the marks of age and existence, and I pondered my own, and how important she has been to the human sense of wonder forever. Big thoughts on a beautiful night, and they have stayed with me to this morning. My camera couldn’t fully capture the magical moment. Thinking of all my fellow moon gazers today.

Standing in the ocean with the moon glow washing over me along with the waves was just the boost I needed. I took my Canon 80d with the 18-13mm lens, but it could not come close to capturing her exquisite beauty. Binoculars were incredible though, and I could have stared at her all night. I did have to laugh at my sweet 5 year old nephew though (who is into all things space and completely delightful), who wanted to know when the moon would turn blue…

Subscriber Chat

And finally for today, in a little while I am posting the first subscriber ‘chat’ for the paid tier, and I thought I would pop a little teaser here, because I don’t want to send you a “preview” through Substack that you can’t access. That just feels mean.

So, no FOMO allowed here, the majority of my posts will always be free, because I super-blue-moon love you either way, but these chats are just a little extra for the paid peeps. If you want to join in, you are always more than welcome.

Alright, it is Friday afternoon, I have had a big week and the easel is calling my name. A reminder, you are all kinds of wonderful.

PS: Limited edition prints of the current {wild+woman} are available here, printed by my own two hands, numbered and signed, and sent to you from this tiny wild studio with lots of love!