This painting of Jupiter from first century Pompeii is tailor made for the Emperor card. Although this work predates the Tarot by some thirteen centuries, all the elements of the Emperor are present.

We see Jupiter, seated upon his throne, as a winged Victory sets a laurel upon his brow. He holds a scepter in his hand, and an orb and an eagle are at his feet. The image succinctly and elegantly telegraphs command, majesty, and authority.

One of my ongoing Tarot-related projects has been the creation of two imaginary Tarot decks. I say imaginary, because they don't exist in physical form; they're simply a collection of ideas and images. The first, which I've named the Giulia Gonzaga deck (after the 16th century Italian noblewoman), is inspired by Medieval and Renaissance art. The other deck, which I variously call the Roman or Classical deck, is inspired by Roman mythology, art, and history.

For my Roman deck, I've left the suits the same as in a standard Tarot deck, substituting denarii, Roman currency, for pentacles or coins. Instead of knights I have centurions, and Emperors and their consorts take the place of Kings and Queens.

Julius Caesar and Calpurnia are the Emperor and Empress of the suit of wands; Augustus and Livia of swords, and Constantine and Fausta the suit of cups. One possibility I've considered for the suit of denarii is Titus and Marcia Furnilla, since the Coliseum was completed under his reign.

For the Major Arcana, I'm using chiefly Roman gods and goddesses. I've come up with several cards in this category, which are pretty straightforward:

Vesta: The High Priestess

Jupiter and Juno: The Emperor and Empress

Venus and Adonis: The Lovers

Fortuna: Wheel of Fortune

Hercules: Strength

Pluto: Death

Diana: The Moon

Apollo: The Sun

For the back of the cards, I decided to go with a mosaic motif, since this art form was so prevalent in Roman culture. Creating a deck in this way is a lot of fun. Thinking about the images I want to use and why allows me to further my understanding and appreciation of the cards and their symbols. Incidentally, there is a Roman Tarot currently in the works, by artist Christine Cianci. She draws upon Etruscan and Roman art to create images that truly evoke that era.

I recently stumbled across this great photo of the incomparable Marlene Dietrich. She looks kind of Goth here, and there appears to be a moon crescent on her forehead. I immediately thought of the Waite-Smith High Priestess, although given the overall dark, mysterious mood of this picture I think the Moon card also applies. Perhaps even a very chic, Cocteau-inspired Death card?

Another great image courtesy of the NYPL Digital Archive.

I'm looking forward to the second season of True Blood.

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.