It comes as a surprise that in what I would say is an international desire for control, both on a mundane and epic scale, that we are attracted to something so, well, not controlled. Something like Tarot. When a drawer hovers their hand over the splay of facedown cards before them, they are teased to take a chance and trust themselves. The role of the drawer is to fill themselves with the intention of the ritual and trust their hand will act in their favor. The act of drawing the cards is then a fully realized practice in embodiment. The small risk-taking (perhaps even playful) phenomenon is not only exclusive to Tarot. It’s present in solitaire, hearts, Uno, and yes: every game that has ever been played. Tarot is on par with any of the aforementioned games.
While Tarot flourished in mystic and alternative spiritual practice, its emergence was from a game no more common or conventional than an ordinary game of hearts or solitaire (Sosteric, 2014, 357). It’s role now as a source of mystical and divinatory power is a result of Tarot being an opportunistic medium in the process of self individuation- a common goal of many esoteric communities (Wood 1997). The prolific number of theories behind the origin prove the great locality and accessibility tarot provided. Though figures that decorate the major arcana are said to be linked to ancient Egyptian, Chinese, Celtic and Islamic traditions (Mathers, 1888) , they now approach a more contemporary style. It is a living and local tradition played in communal spaces such as pubs, parlors, and maybe even train stations. The cards manifest images from local folklore and allegory reflecting the context in which they are played (Dummet. 1993).
With the study and use of Tarot comes the undeniable speculation of its connection to “alternative” esoteric practice. Discussing the crossover of occult and tarot is its own complex and tangential journey. What interested me is that tarot rose from a place of searching for faith and almost hope for divine guidance (Sosteric, 2014, 357–392). Dismissive attitudes towards these practices often overlook the sociological interest which suggest that the intentionality of intense rituals can actually trigger a moment of mental clarity revealing one's inner conflicts or reflective thoughts. If we expand the history of Tarot, you’ll find many divinatory practices are similar in nature. Ancient practices range anywhere from reading cracked tortoise shells to visiting oracles for battle advice. The reading of entrails in livestock was a familiar practice in medieval periods of war and heated debate contemplating the great decisions of a nation. While pretty unsavory as a practice, in the midst of an intense situation, divinatory rituals can help focus the mind offering mental clarity(Struck 8:30). The practice of Tarot mimics this phenomenon on a much less grisly scale; the embodied practice of drawing cards feeds into readings as much as the imagery. The interpretation of tarot cards then includes the role and response you have in playing the game (Penco, 2013, 141- 155).
The shifting context in which tarot is practiced is secured by knowledge of the cards’. An off balance of the local context can strengthen the desire to enter a state of playfulness. My context for exploring the tarot was in the midst of the SARS-CoV-2 pandemic. As millions of humans across the world opted for closing themselves in their apartments in order to stay away from the unknown and unsafe exterior, boredom and desperation gave way to a new sense of playfulness for more than just myself. The interest in Tarot drawings rose as people looked to this medium for guidance in navigating the transitory and fearful period (Sachdeva). The intention then was just as the intention for this research and for the medieval decision makers: to find clarity in the maelstrom without losing ourselves to it.
My first year of Arthaus resulted in work that sought clarity through a different method of diversifying my work. In the year that had transpired since my video portrait exhibit “Like Trees'' premiered, I had grown in my confidence in multi-media production. The reflective process that created “Like Trees” was a solo journey with the audience expected to witness my journey. The creation of a tarot is intended to embody the role of the drawer and create something to help others to fulfill the same role. The intentionality behind the drawer's role is then recycled by using my medium to process others’ journey. In order to bring that experience to others I had to research the experience myself.
Accompanied by the classic Rider-Waite-Smith deck I began to read my own tarot everyday. This was a practice that ran simultaneously along my process of creation and rehearsals in other IRPs. My readings were scattered, amateur, and incredibly satisfying. Starting your own reading with limited exposure to Tarot can be difficult. The first readings were often with the aid of Brigit Esselmont, Tarot reader and CEO of The Biddy Tarot: a company specializing in online resources and programs relating to Tarot. The readings were every morning the same format; a simple three card spread. One card for the future, one for the present, one for the past.
I would place the cards, take a breath, and choose three. Some days it was fast, some days it was slow. I was developing a new practice for which I had no instinct. My academic research of Tarot was informative, but offered little assistance in the embodied practice of conducting my own readings. The Biddy Tarot online resource assists new Tarot readers by giving the general interpretation of each card. Easy Tarot Lessons is a Spotify podcast which brings together three experienced tarot readers who discuss the general interpretations of specific tarot cards and their personal experience in reading them. During my first few weeks of reading I would use these resources to ground myself in the existing practice. But slowly and steadily I began to peel away from the guide, becoming more familiar with the cards’ general significance as well as expanding my availability to interpret the other variables of the reading. I noticed the way I chose the cards: I always looked for the ones that seemed hidden or stubborn to be picked. When I flipped the cards I would notice what my initial reaction was: did I like them? Was I confused? Instant connections were sometimes, thoughts my brain jumped at the opportunity to express. Other times I was at a loss of what to say and felt blocked from forming meanings. A diary of readings helped me learn more about individual cards and log what thoughts surrounded my readings.
As my relationship to the cards grew, I began to experiment with other ways to get to know them.
With the major arcana in mind I made playlists that brought to mind the essence of some of the characteristics. Music has been a constant companion in all my creative processes. This one was no different. Use of music helped me feel and connect to my understanding of each stage of the Fools journey.
In this score I spent a studio slot focusing on the movement of each member of the major arcana. I experimented with movements that embodied the essence of the card and composed a score. The score is a result of two hours of attempting to “embody each of the 22+1 members of the major arcana.
The cyclical nature of my research process added a new layer of meaning once I began using my own created tarot deck. My relationship with the cards was ever more strengthened knowing that they contained multiple layers of readings. They were both my interpretation of the classic Rider Waite Smith deck but also the individual stories that inspired the creation of each (read more in the creator section of this site). The presence the drawer now contained was a manifestation of all the memories and journeys that led to the creation of the deck. Simply put: the tarot represented myself, I would use it to then help myself which would possibly result in new additions to the deck and the readings. Like standing between parallel mirrors, my research process reached a confusing level of complexity in its cyclical nature.
During my research as a drawer of the cards I began to understand the importance of true presence, a conclusion that seems to swallow every creative process. With tarot the presence of the drawer means knowing the steps that lie ahead and the steps that came before and settling into the comfort of “I don’t know”. This can exist on the grand scale of the context in which you practice tarot, but also the miniature journey of the practice itself: the creation of the cards being the past, and the reading of the cards being the future. The practice as a drawer is concentric to the practice of life in the grander context like the grand instability of the pandemic. It’s just a bit easier than reading the entrails of a slain bull.