Wild + Woman

Honouring our elder-women archetypes and powerful inner crones

Jul 18, 2023

When

asked if I might be interested in illustrating her book Hagitude: Reimagining the Second Half of Life, it was all I could do to not implode with excitement. I mean, first, hello, Sharon Blackie. The Sharon Blackie whose book If Women Rose Rooted felt like it was written just for me - bowl me over with a feather, right? But the opportunity to dive a little deeper into our elder women archetypes, to focus on a way to bring them to life through simple graphite on paper (when they are so large and vibrant in my mind) was such a joyful, enlightening journey. Doing this while learning more (and always, and still) from Sharon’s profoundly important and empowering work was an enchanting gift larger than I could have imagined.

I am often asked which illustration of the eleven in the book is my favourite, and it is hard to pick just one (as they all hold secret personal meanings for me - just as I hope that some do for you too), but I can easily say that Baba Yaga is definitely one of my (eleven) favourites, haha. I had always had a strong attraction to Baba Yaga and the typical folktale old witch in the woods (who never got the spotlight - or back story - that she deserved). Frankly, she is who I wanted to be when I grew up. She still is. Living in the embrace of the wild, happy to be left (mostly) alone, maybe a little feared (if only because she refuses to bend to conformity), but most importantly, deep in her own power.

I had a strong relationship with my grandmothers, but my paternal grandmother, Nan, particularly. Right up until her passing at nearly 101 she was formidable, a matriarch who had survived so much over her long, long life, and who remained in her own power even when her body failed her and she needed full time care. I spent a lot of time with Nan in her aged care home, got to know many of the other residents, and indeed a lot of my day job meant spending time with the elderly. This was a gift I did not take for granted. Gathering my inspiration and moving pigment around a page to celebrate these women of our collective mythic imagination, our folk stories and evolution with the land, was a way to honour my own grandmothers, and the elder women of our global village. After the book, though, I knew I wasn’t finished.

This journey started with a drawing I did while I recovered from my hysterectomy, after more than two decades of chronic pain with endometriosis, adenomyosis and fibroids. There was so much healing that took place as I scratched my graphite pencils across bristol board in those months. I would never bear children of my own, so I put my grief into mothering artworks into realisation. Sharon had published blog posts on her old website, “Grey Heron Nights” that so inspired me, and introduced me to the Cailleach. My genetic history is predominantly Scottish and Irish, with a little Norwegian for good measure, though here in the Antipodes I had never heard of this divine hag and landscape maker. Reading of her here was like coming home. That drawing - one that I am convinced the old woman ensured I completed and shared - connected me with Sharon, and began the process of my own connection to the tales that my foremothers in lands far from here would have known intimately.

After Hagitude was published I created 5 more drawings in a similar style to that initial Old Crane Woman. A crone, hag, wise woman, elder woman, archetype, or goddess (you choose your own term) deeply connected to a particular wild being. Indeed, they are one and the same. She is the wild through them, and they are divine through her. Raven woman came first (she was so insistent, determined, to be first), then owl woman (so quiet and still and infinitely powerful), then redkite woman, fox woman, and hare woman in quick succession. They felt complete, a little cadre of five. I was honoured to do a commission for Crow woman, and then there were six. And they have been sitting quietly in the back of my mind since. Not always quietly. They talk among themselves. Sometimes I hear them cackling together (and it is truly divine).

A new project that listens to their tales, that honours their power, has been bubbling away in my mind-cauldron for some time, though what has held me back is my fear and uncertainty that I can bring it to life in the way that my minds-eye sees it (you can see some sneaky-peeks over on Notes though!). So I decided I would spend a good amount of time on sketches before I begin the painting process, to both work out the composition and the requisite hiccups that happen along the way (nearly always involving hands). Beginning on Deer and She, I felt a little stiff, I will admit. A little unsure. A little hesitant, even though roiling with excitement. She took longer than I thought would be needed, particularly at the start, but the conversation was quiet and kind and full of wonder. I can see that this is the path forward, that the sketches will fill this book as I work on the paintings beside them, as I research for the writing that will accompany them, and as I share it all with you. Towards the end of this first study though, very loudly, very insistently, Heron Woman screeched that she needed to be done NOW. That she would join the first iteration, along with the Crow Woman commission, and then there would be seven (a very auspicious number).

Twelve fervent hours over two days, one aching hand and neck, and oh my heart, she was so needed.

There will be more about this new project soon. I want you to be involved with it in the most wonderful way - I cannot wait to share more. But today I want to celebrate Heron Woman with you.

Heron Woman, oh, she is powerful - her energy is strong, despite her bird shape being so shy and flighty. Her unkempt plait echoes the dangling crest and elongated chest feathers of the grey heron through whose eyes she sees, eternally connected to the waterways, the sky, the tallest trees and nests of the heronry. Still, statue-like, but so quick and fierce in turn. Alert to the smallest changes around her, she moves with such elegance and grace, a fluid, long-legged serpentine dance, and then she rolls her shoulders and great wings of blue grey unfurl.

(Heron woman, a {wild+woman} original artwork, is available here )

Each of the {wild+women} pieces came with a very short poem that they helped write as they fell out of my pencil. Below is Heron Woman’s.

I am shaking my head a little as I write this. She was so unexpected, and such a gift. Sometimes the muse whispers quietly, sometimes she takes your hand a little more firmly. Sometimes she sends a heron to screech in your ear loudly until you listen - and for that, I am so thankful.