There’s a fun, altar-heavy magic show up at New York’s FLAG Art Foundation through January. Srijon Chowdhury just debuted Cycled Through the Wildflower Arcana (2025) amidst this exhibition, on the Foundation’s Spotlight wall. The Portland-based artist produced this painting while making his latest show at Ciaccia Levi gallery. It’s the first time he’s put tarot in his art, which typically depicts nature, divinity, and motherhood—even though he’s been using cards since 2018. The work started when a mantra got stuck in his head years ago: “Life is so easy, life is so hard.”
The twenty-two panels in Wildflower Arcana correspond to the twenty-two cards of the tarot’s major arcana. This isn’t a linear traipse through the Fool’s Journey, however. The cards are scrambled—you can read them along the x-, y-, or z-axis. Critic Doreen St. Felix provided stirring context as part of the work’s debut. I asked Chowdhury whether he considers tarot a vessel for spirits or a framework for the subconscious. To him, every card’s a spirit, and “the question is the most important thing.”
So true. When I started giving readings, I’d often ask querents how they thought we should lay the cards out. No one knew, and some didn’t even know what to ask. They all wanted to be guided.
Assuredness is necessary in tarot. Or is it? Either way, it’s a skill I’ve had to learn, as I was reminded again at a recent symposium related to Liu Yang’s show at the private museum Amant, in Brooklyn. There, the brothers behind the virtual performance studio Team Rolfes noted that guests at their live show often need someone to tell them when to sit, dance, and laugh.
Inspired by Chowdhury’s remark, I ask my tarot cards what questions the art world should be asking. I let a new spread come to me, too. The shape dawns on me first: a ten-card pyramid. The sensation of two harpies on either side crops up, so I pull two tiny Rider-Waite cards to elucidate what questions we should ignore. Another, up top, serves as the spread’s lodestar.
I shuffle in my dark, quiet room, heeding my inner voice’s call to pull the pyramid top-down. Eyes closed, I pick up the mini Rider-Waites and instinctively pull those bottoms up. Cards are such a cool medium—every step matters. The choice to flip the decks over and put them beneath the pyramid also arises right on my yoga mat. I flick the lights and let the cards speak.
The World is perched atop the pyramid. This card is noteworthy—it’s the major arcana’s grand finale—and emphasised by the Ten of Pentacles above it. It seems we should be asking about sustainable, shareable abundance. The two distracting voices—the devils on both shoulders, if you will—are the Emperor and the Four of Cups. These are structure and boredom, respectively.
Three key features jump out at me. First, the Seven of Cups reversed (our old friend!) came out touching the Eight of Cups reversed one step down. Next to that lies a striking trio of pentacle cards: the Seven of Pentacles (right by the Seven of Cups, mind you) atop the Three and Five of Pentacles (which makes eight, by the way). I usually wouldn’t go so far as to sum the Three and Five together into another in this way, but look at them—they’re so clearly related! There’s a repeating pattern here: seven to eight, seven to eight, descending both times.
This line of questioning intensifies when I notice the Nine of Swords below the Three and Five of Pentacles—and the Rider-Waite’s High Priestess to its right. These two cards are the King and Queen of overthinking. Then, as I move the decks to photograph this spread—sorry, you’re not seeing my yoga mat—I spot Justice just beneath them both. Now there’s a sign. It all evens out.
What about the other half of this spread? Honestly, it’s abject chaos: the Four of Wands reversed, The Devil, the King of Swords reversed. These are our most basic, animal instincts.
Much like Wildflower Arcana has its own logic, an ad hoc spread like this reveals its own rules. When read in terms of the ten at the top, the seven-eight-nine progression we just discussed on the other side betrays a zero-gravity state. Does this mean ascension is all about letting go? By that reasoning, the right side culminates in the moon. Art world, have you been lying to yourself?
The other side of the spread looks great by comparison. In fact, it’s a pretty clear split. Structure seems to be the way. We need to be asking how to set up systems that’ll maximise happiness.
Maybe we’ll explore that matter further in next month’s year-end reading. In the meantime, here’s an apt question from a reader: what kind of work should be made right now to heal the collective? A spread for this inquiry emerged immediately as four cards filled in the blanks. The result: we need art that is celebratory but not comfortable for a world weary with a work ethic.
And last but not least, here’s what we all want to know: what’s going to happen this month? The Seven of Pentacles reversed, with the Ten of Cups and Judgement. It seems like the art world has a fun holiday season ahead—though not a frivolous one. The Judgement is an awakening.