In antiquity (ha! antiquity) a crone was considered a wise woman. A woman that had transversed life through a childhood, her maiden years and her mother years, into the ending quarter of her life ~ hopefully gaining wisdom along the way for not only this life time, but for the next.

Recent definitions state that a Crone is:

crone
  /kroʊn/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [krohn] Show IPA
–noun
a withered, witchlike old woman.
Origin:
1350–1400; ME < MD croonie old ewe < ONF caronie carrion

Withered ain’t too bad, old is ok and witchlike (whatever the hell that is) doesn’t seem too bad either unless one was less Glenda and more the Wicked Witch of the West. Methinks that I am a combination of the two (spending more time in Glenda’s world than the West), and I am good with that.

I have learned a few things over the years, and gained a bit of acumen. The most important being that I define, for myself, what is truly important to me in this world and the rest can go fuck themselves. I will concede, however, that I have a hell of a lot more to learn before I check out of this earth plane, particularly about me, which is one of the reasons for this blog.

I had and since have sold, a relatively popular blog titled “Musings from the Moon” which started out to be much like I hope “Crone on the Hill” will be, but one long, well researched article about a “reality” show couple who are exploiting their children, took it into a direction of pop culture and current events and blogging about same for over a year. I have met a huge number of fantastic women (and men) at Musings, and for the most part have enjoyed it immensely, but I want to get back down to brass tacks, as it were, and log my life ~ the simple shit, the mundane miracles, the creative process, how hard that process can be and why the hell I feel compelled to create when the demons attached to this consummation, or attempted consummation, can be so difficult and invasive.

I want to be myself without censorship, come what may. I want to talk with others or no one at all; it doesn’t matter. I want to be me without pretense or fear that what I say here will be spread, twisted and misconstrued all over the net, which I am sure it will be. I have been there, done that, with Musings. For as many incredible women (and men) I have met through Musings, I have met with just as many certifiable loony tune, mentally ill people, and it is actually quite as fascinating as it is disturbing. People who want to “bring you down”, ruin a good reputation for no other reason other than they don’t like what you are blogging about, even when you are clearly right, which was the case with this “reality” show couple.

Freakin’ morons.

To that I say, “Have at it, dark folks, ’cause there ain’t nothing in my past or present that would cause me embarrassment. Everything that I have done, or haven’t done in my life thus far, has helped to mold the person I am presently, in this last quarter of life~ and for that I am grateful and certainly not ashamed or abashed or disconcerted or any other synonym of embarrassed.”

And so it is.

I moved from the city to the country two years ago. As much as I yearned to live in the middle of no where, literally, I knew that action would spell d-e-a-t-h to my art work and my dream of having a not-for-profit alternative art space for women, so I compromised. I found a lovely 171 year old farmhouse, high on a hill, in Western NY in the composite resort area of the Finger Lakes Region, between two smaller cities and an hour, either way, from two larger ones. This allows me to be connected artistically with contemporary art, and in particular contemporary conceptual/experimental art. I live on 10.6 acres of land that is bordered by a commercial road and the rest, corn fields. It is the best of both worlds, having the potential commercial visibility for an art space and having the silence of acres down the hill and towards the pond to enjoy the universe’s many creations with each change of the seasons.

I love this money pit of a home and my studio here, though the taxes are literally killing me – it has been a tough road, but still, I am blessed. So please journey with me in in this last quarter of my life, living creatively, becoming a country crone, and to realize this artist’s dream of directing an alternative art space highlighting women artists – or don’t. Either way I am happy you stopped by.

~Merry