I came across this 16th century engraving, by one Thomam Geminum, of a contemplative Death meditating upon Death. I thought it would make an interesting version of the Tarot card.

Image courtesy of the NYPL Digital Archive.

Upon the recommendation of Craig Conley, I've read Last Call, Tim Power's brilliant, mythic, noir-ish novel. Set in LA and Las Vegas and spanning several generations, the characters in this suspenseful story participate in ancient pagan rites, with life or death consequences. At the heart of Power's tale are Tarot cards; specifically, a Tarot deck with unusual powers.

I was in Vegas this past September with my son, and I found it to be a surreal experience. We stayed on the Strip, and I felt as if I were walking underwater the entire time I was there. The energy there was dense, unlike any other place I've ever visited. I couldn't figure out what it was that made Vegas so odd. I couldn't attribute it solely to the casinos, though they're certainly a factor. It was while reading Last Call that everything came together for me.

In other places I've visited, the energy flows organically from the land itself. The inhabitants and history of the place certainly add to the overall energetic signature, but it's the land itself that seems to set the tone for everything. In Las Vegas, that's not the case at all. I felt a dense layer of energy resting upon a neutral, ancient desert landscape. There seemed to be no interplay at all between the desert and the city, which contributed to the unreal, mirage-like quality I felt while I was there. The desert seems wholly indifferent to the goings on in Vegas, one reason I believe people who go there feel they have license to indulge in all kinds of behaviors they wouldn't otherwise engage in.

Whoever came up with the marketing slogan "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" hit upon an interesting truth. Vegas seems to have this self contained quality, to be a kind of hedonistic energetic biodome, where people can seek out entertainment of all kinds, then safely leave the experiences behind them.

I've been reading Leo Martello's book Reading the Tarot, a work I enjoy for its vigor and concision. Martello was an opinionated stregone, and the force of his personality comes through the pages of this useful guide to the Tarot.

I enjoy the rhymed messages he included for the pips. Some, such as the one for the Ace of Pentacles (which corresponds to diamonds in a standard card deck), are humorous:

"Ace of Pentacles a girl's best friend,

A Beau's best bet to insure a blend!"

They're a fun way to help memorize basic meanings for these cards. Of course, Martello did not advocate a rote approach to reading the cards, one based purely on memorization. He regarded his own interpretations as a starting point, or more precisely a focal point to trigger the subconscious mind and evoke images and ideas. He maintained that a study of the meanings of the cards should work in concert with one's own intuition. He wrote "between a literal reading of the cards and an intuitively enlightened one, you'll be amazed at the revelations this combination brings."

I recently learned that the Peruvian singer Yma Sumac, the Nightingale of the Andes, died earlier this month. A soprano with a five octave range (her first husband proclaimed "Never in 2,000 years has there been another voice like hers"), Sumac was wildly popular in the 1950's.

Born in Peru on September 13, 1922, Sumac began singing at age 9. She and her first husband moved to New York City in 1946, where she performed as part of a trio before embarking upon her solo career. Her remarkable voice could emulate bird cries and wild animals, and she incorporated spectacular costumes into her theatrical acts. A diva in the truest and finest sense of the word, she cultivated a glamorous and mysterious persona, even claiming to be descended from an Incan emperor.

Sumac embodied the creativity, power, and majesty of the Empress card. The image she created and presented to audiences flowed organically from her talent and immense personality.

An interesting image from the New York Public Library Digital Gallery.

Ginny Hunt of 87 Notes to Self has an insightful and witty post on the pitfalls of using a purely intuitive approach to Tarot reading, one that has no regard for the established meanings of the cards. I agree wholeheartedly that while intuition is indispensable for a good reading, it is not enough. Intuition must be supported by a foundation of study and knowledge of the cards.

My own course of study has been idiosyncratic, varied, and actually began (without my knowing it at the time) long before I ever laid eyes upon a Tarot deck. The Greek and Roman myths I loved as a child provided one framework for understanding the classical cultures whose revival played such an important role in Renaissance life, the period when the Tarocchi were first developed. Western European art and history, from classical times through the Renaissance, continually deepen my appreciation for the iconography of the Tarot. The books of Thomas Moore, particularly Care of the Soul and The Reenchantment of Everyday Life, help me to cultivate a sensibility that I have found helpful when interpreting a spread. I could go on: music, literature, poetry, architecture, the works of Tarot historians and scholars - all these contribute to my learning in some manner.

None of this is meant to be prescriptive, of course. It is simply my way. I share this merely to buttress my argument that relying purely on some vague, misty idea of what the cards mean, independent of how they actually came about and evolved, is limiting at best, and misleading to the querent, at worst. The cards are eloquent, but it is necessary to learn their language to understand what they have to say.

Quote of the Day

"Crane glanced around at the room, noting the food stains on the carpet and the stack of battered issues of Woman's World on a far table, and he remembered Joshua's tastefully mood-conducive [tarot] parlor. Maybe, Crane thought, if you've got the real high-octane stuff, you don't need to dress it up."

-- Tim Powers, Last Call

In Stitches

This is cool. The Tarot Art Quilt Project Deck is a collaborative project among various fiber artists who have created quilt versions of the Tarot cards. Pictured is Boyd Savage's vision of the Death card. I was interested in the fact that he chose not to use the skeleton, since he feels the image may not resonate with viewers as much as it did in other times. Death, the ultimate transformation, is represented instead by the Tao gate. When I first saw this quilt, the gate reminded me of the number pi, which further deepened the sense of mystery of this image for me.

Below is a video of a presentation given by magic scholar and linguist extraordinaire, Craig Conley, at the recent Magic and Meaning conference held in Las Vegas. His topic was "Jeff McBride and His Precursors." Conley's talk greatly increased my admiration for the artistry of this gifted magician.



Jeff McBride and His Precursors from Prof. Oddfellow on Vimeo.

Card That I'm Feeling

As the events of this historic week sink in, the Tarot card that best captures my mood right now is the Star.

While there is no question that the myriad economic, environmental, and social problems facing the US will not be resolved overnight, I feel hopeful about the future for the first time in a long while.

(The featured card is from Robert M. Place's Tarot of the Sevenfold Mystery, a work in progress.)