XIX--The Sun

I loved drawing this card; I really felt the energy of it as I was working through the design. In my version, the sun bursts forth from a lush bloom, enlightening everything beneath it. There really is no hiding in the stark light of day--all is apparent and the truth of the whole is laid bare. I have included the naked child that is in the original RWS design; in my drawing, he has an aureole around his head and is basking in the sun's rays--he represents the happiness and joy that we feel when we are in-tuned with ourselves at all levels of being and consciousness.

I have also included the four sunflowers of the RWS design, and they are flourishing and beaming under the sun. Some cultivars of sunflowers average 12-16 feet, while the tallest on record is an astonishing 28 feet! Humans domesticated the wild flower and have bred them with their stunning and glorious influorescences and height in mind. When they bloom in my garden in late summer and early autumn, they truly are the stars of the show--they are what everyone notices, especially the bees! I love watching their heads turn with the movement of the sun throughout the day...

XIII--Death

I really wanted to draw this card because I wanted an excuse to draw a magnificent horse and to draw a skeleton in the style of Hans Holbein--I love his Dance of Death series of woodcut prints. I also wanted to pay tribute to Albrecht Durer's etching of the Abduction of Proserpine (death is abducting spring).

Death is an ending, of course. A great change. The eventuality that every living thing must experience. And even if you have a hard time believing in fate, you can be sure that it's in your cards. 

In the picture, a human skeleton representing Death rides animated atop a beautiful unicorn, a phoenix seeming to emerge from the ripples of the mane. The skeleton shows what the body looks like at the end of the life cycle--no flesh, no breath. Even so, it was always there within from the time of birth. It is now time to return to the earth to start the cycle anew. It rides triumphantly, brandishing the black flag with the white rose, as if his arrival and victory were inevitable. Indeed, the triumphal arch atop the mount underscores the supremacy of death. As Heraclitus believed, everything is in constant flux, nothing remains the same. You can never step into the same river twice.

Grass sways in the wind over the reared haunches of the great beast, and there is a pond with a lone polliwog and a frog sitting on a stone. In Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself," there is a passage: 

A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;

How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he... 

And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves...

All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,

And to die is different from what anyone supposed, and luckier.

The calla lilies behind the horse are curious flowers that thrive in bogs and that are extremely poisonous. They are frequently used in weddings and also in funerals--a very apt flower to signify Death, a card of beginnings and endings.

The scarab on the horse emphasizes this role that Death plays in natural cycles; many beetles are detritivores, feeding on carrion, dung (certain scarab beetles are coprophagous), and fungi. When they eat living remains, beetles recycle nutrients back into the soil, thus making the soil more fertile.

The frog and the tadpole reiterate the theme of natural order: the metamorphosis from frogspawn to actual frog is a very recognizable example of transformation. Also, I think the tadpole looks like a sperm, thus signifying a beginning.

XII--The Hanged Man

When deciding which cards to begin drawing, I was immediately pulled in by the Hanged Man. I think it's safe to say that I saw myself in that figure. I started reading about the symbolism behind it and was even more convinced that this was indeed "my" card.

Suspension was one of the first ideas that popped into my head--yeah, really original, I know. But when something is suspended, there is the implication that it will not always be so, that it will move again, or that perhaps it will complete a transformation. He is waiting for the right moment, though, taking time to reflect on his journey so far. In his suspension, the man is also reversed-- he is seeing the world from a completely new and different perspective. He is also amazingly serene in this unorthodox position, indicating that he's okay with relinquishing control, with accepting things as they are, and putting his own interests to the side.

I've drawn asters and an aster aureole around the head of the Hanged Man. Asters are symbolic of patience, and I've limned his head in one to signify his self-sacrificing act. The flowers are late-bloomers, blossoming in early and mid-autumn when all other blooms have passed their prime--starworts--as they're called--like to wait to put on a spectacular show. And the bees love them, which is why I've drawn one. Bees are another symbol of self-sacrifice, as they are known for being social insects that work for the good of the colony.

Another symbol of self-sacrifice is the mourning dove caring for her (or his) eggs. Both parents incubate the eggs, with the male doing the morning to afternoon shift and the female taking over for the rest of day and into the night. The nest is rarely left unattended, and if a predator threatens, one of the parents may actually "deceive" the unwanted guest by flailing on the ground in pretense of a broken wing.

The idea of suspension as a stage in transformation is illustrated by the chrysalis hanging next to the man and the cicada buried in the ground. Some cicada species have extremely long life cycles; some species of the Magicicada genus will spend 13 or 17 years underground feeding on the juices of plant roots before they emerge from the soil as adults.

XVIII--The Moon

When I created this card, the word that most often came to mind was illusion. By the light of the moon, things do not appear as they do in the full shine of the sun; sometimes, they take on a sinister aspect, and other times, it's as if you've walked into a dream. This uncertainty in regards to what you're seeing can instigate fear and anxiety, or perhaps trigger something in your subconscious. Connecting with your subliminal self can lead to a kindling of the imagination and visionary experiences. Even so, you have to be mindful of lingering in the land of forever-eventide and fantasy, for it may cause you to lose your way in confusion.

I've drawn the moon cupped in a poppy flower, as the poppy is a symbol of the Greek god of dreams--Morpheus. Opium derives from poppies, and the latex harvested from the seed pods contains morphine and codeine, alkaloids known for their sedative and hallucinogenic properties.

I've also drawn the traditional wolf and dog, crustacean, and monoliths; but to the monoliths, I've added some stylized Ipomoea or Moon Flowers, which bloom only at night. I find it amazing and a little comforting to know that there are living things out there that actually need the dark to grow and that they have complements to help them flourish (like nighttime pollinators--moths and bats).

I've also put in a naked young woman with milky white skin, hair sprouting leaflets and half-formed poppies, wearing a mask made from a Luna Moth. "Luna" is Latin for "moon," and like all members of Saturniidae, they have no mouths and do not eat as adults--they emerge from the cocoon solely to mate, to create.