The Magical Tarot of the Golden Dawn — A Deck Interview
This is Pat Zalewski’s much-anticipated take on the Golden Dawn tarot. Its main selling point is that it is hyped as being faithful to the color scales of the Order, while in a less beguiling sense it looks remarkably like a color-corrected, minor artistic overhaul of the graphics created by Robert Wang in collaboration with Israel Regardie that relied on the latter’s recollection of his personal deck, one that had been either lost in a move or destroyed in a fire some years before. (Regardie was not a member of the original Golden Dawn, but rather of the offshoot Stella Matutina in the 1930s.) That reconstituted work, Wang’s “Golden Dawn Tarot,” is arguably the closest thing we have to a complete, “semi-authentic” Golden Dawn deck, although its strength lies in the fidelity of Regardie’s memory and not in Wang’s artwork, which is nothing to get excited about. I took a cursory look at the color tables in Aleister Crowley’s 777 and can see where the “King” scale appears in the cards of Zalewski’s deck but it will take a closer examination to convince me that the objective was met in its entirety (although the concept of “flashing colors” — similar to what I’ve seen in tattwa cards — does come across quite nicely in many of the images).
My initial impression of this deck was one of disappointment that its drawings are so “cartoony;” I was hoping for something that would rival the Thoth for aesthetic appeal and didn’t realize until I looked at Wang’s Qabalistic Tarot that the new deck is largely a “clone” of the earlier Wang/Regardie initiative. (To be precise, Zalewski did acknowledge in the enclosed “LWB” that they had a copy of the Whare Ra deck from which to work.) But the artist’s palette is fresh and pure, and the result succeeds admirably in its use of color. Unlike the Thoth deck, its Minor Arcana are true “pip” cards in line with its Tarot de Marseille roots, and not the highly-creative “glorified pips” that Frieda Harris achieved. It is probably not a deck that will inspire me to use it in performing divination, but its simple yet powerful, easily-absorbed presentation will certainly be valuable for more mystical purposes like Tree of Life path-working.
To judge its utility as a reading deck, I put it through my “Tell Me No Lies” new-deck interview spread, which is not intended to query the deck on how it will respond to oracular situations, but rather to present a quasi-psychological snapshot of the “personality” that it might exhibit in use. When laid out in this way, the images seem much more compelling, certainly more so than most other modern decks I’ve seen lately despite its shortcomings as art.
The left-hand column is comprised of top-card pulls from four elemental sub-packs similar to those used in the First Operation of the Golden Dawn’s “Opening of the Key” method. The series progresses from top to bottom as Fire, Water, Air and Earth. The objective of these cards is to give a “first impression” of the deck’s temperament in four areas: “Energy” (Wands); “Heart” (Cups); “Voice” (Swords); and “Substance” (Coins/Pentacles).
The 6 of Swords in the “Wands” position is a card of “measured effort;” Liber T calls it the “Lord of Earned Success,” but as utilitarian Mercury in fixed Aquarius it seems more like “economy of thought and action” to me, with no wasted motion and no idle theorizing. I would expect straight answers with no overheated rhetoric from this deck.
The Knight of Cups (Fire of Water) is well-placed in the “Cups” position. As presaged by the vivid use of color, I would expect a dynamic, rewarding emotional experience in working with the deck.
The 6 of Disks in the “Swords” position is elementally uncomfortable in the realm of Air, but as “Lord of Material Success” it would be difficult to deflect from its goal of mundane accomplishment. As the “voice” of the deck, Moon in Taurus promises a calm, sensible engagement with little florid overstatement, although I might have to coax more subtle meanings out of it.
Death in the “Disks” position is the only Major Arcanum in the main reading, but it doesn’t dominate the landscape. Its correspondence to Scorpio is brought to the forefront, and that is one of the three “scientific” signs of traditional astrology (the others being Virgo and Aquarius); its profound depths are admirably conveyed by the cool “green-blue” of the King scale. (It is, by the way, my favorite color to wear as a Scorpio-rising native.) I would expect that this deck will excel at getting “under the skin” of any divinatory scenario in a deeply forensic manner.
The middle column is designed to present the “tone” or “style” of the deck’s communication. To populate it, I located the card of the lowest denomination in each of the elemental sub-packs, the idea being that it will be the most fundamental expression of the suit’s energy, closest to the “root” of its power in that particular mode. Obviously, there will be no elemental mismatch between card and position as we saw in the first column.
The 3 of Wands is titled “Lord of Established Strength”” in Liber T (although I prefer Crowley’s title of “Virtue”). The Sun in Aries, its sign of exaltation, suggests operating from a position of absolute authority and invincible power, which I think may be overstating the case. I see it rather as a card in which there is no deception or meanness of spirit; it is a paragon of honesty and integrity that bodes well for the candor of any dialogue I may have with the deck during a reading.
The 6 of Cups, as the Sun in Scorpio and “Lord of Pleasure,” puts a very engaging face on the emotional quotient of the deck’s delivery. Crowley called it “one of the best in the pack.” (I will stay away from his more lurid sexual innuendos here.) It displays total ease of articulation and a great deal of sensitivity to nuance.
The 2 of Swords is represented by the Moon in Libra and titled “Lord of Peace Restored” (Crowley shortened it to “Peace,” which does not assume a previous upset). As I see it, this is an impassive and impartial card of “standing back and observing.” In another sense it chooses its words carefully and thinks before it speaks, always sparing in its eloquence. Both the Moon and Venus-ruled Libra have a mildness to them that bespeaks a non-aggressive attitude despite the reputation of Swords for irritability. I would not expect any dramatic “shouting matches” with the deck as epitomized by the 2 of Swords.
The Ace of Disks I sometimes think of as the “Golden Opportunity” card; along with the Princess of Disks it rules the northeastern quadrant of the heavens that is anchored in the fixed sign of Taurus, the sensible domain of stability and security. As a manifestation of the deck’s firmness of tone, it will always be ready with a well-crafted insight of the pragmatic kind. From what I can see, with the exception of the emotionally-luxuriant 6 of Cups, this deck will hew strongly to “first principles” in its elemental expression.
The right-hand column provides an overall “personality profile” for the deck and, taken together with the composite mode of communication described in Column #2, it also offers a synopsis of its inherent nature. These cards are pulled randomly from the reassembled and shuffled sub-packs.
The Princess of Cups as “Earth of Water” in the Wands position is not overly enamored of the choleric suit of Fire, although she has the youthful flexibility of spirit to make the best of it. But I can hear her saying “I told you once, I’m certainly not going to repeat myself.” Pairing this card with the 3 of Wands, we might see steam coming out of her ears in her impatience with its virtuous, self-impressed complacency.
The King of Cups (the Golden Dawn’s original designation for the Prince) is Air of Water, and as such may be prone to inflated platitudes that are long on “feel-good” exhortation and short on substance. He reminds me of a sleek, silver-tongued televangelist. Coupled with the 6 of Cups, this card makes a charming “poster-boy” for the deck’s sensitivity and fluidity.
The 3 of Swords strikes me as an ultimatum, a “ganging up” of negative vibes that seems to be saying tartly “Shape up or ship out.” I think “Lord of Sorrow” is too melancholy a name for it, since it obviously has more of a case of the “galloping nasties” than that, and it isn’t shy about expressing its displeasure. While the pierced heart on the RWS 3 of Swords is a “red herring” that invites misinterpretation as a “lost or failed love” card, this version is all about “bad attitudes.” A deck whose “directness” is characterized by the 3 of Swords will most likely be blunt to a fault, and one that shouldn’t be asked “Does Joe or Mary like me?” It would not only stick the knife in, but twist it cruelly. Matched up with the 2 of Swords, it delivers a “one-two punch” for crystalline clarity (if not warmth) of outlook. I might not like this deck’s demeanor, but I would trust it implicitly.
The 9 of Swords in the Earth position is a dreary reminder that “the nightmare never ends” on the physical plane, from which nobody escapes alive. As the “Lord of Despair and Cruelty,” it is related to Mars in Gemini and therefore has an overtone of “mental and physical brutality” about it. As an expression of the deck’s “reliability,” I can see it as being “reliably malicious” in disabusing querents of their hopes for a “soft landing.” Joined to the elementally ill-served Ace of Disks, it creates an impression of Thomas Gray’s “ignoble strife” from which the former seeks escape. In any rivalry of “touchy-feely” decks, this one most definitely would not be in the running.
I calculated the quintessence card for the reading in two ways (in both instances treating the court cards as “11” through “14” rather than ignoring them). In the first case I used “Theosophical” addition and reduction, by which the sum of 86 was turned into “8+6=14; 1+4=5,” yielding the Hierophant as the “quint.” In the second case I used my preferred method of “casting out nines” (subtracting increments of nine from the total to arrive at a number below 22); thus 86 minus eight “9's” leaves me with “14,” or Temperance. The benefit of the second method is that it lets the reader stop at a higher-numbered trump card, creating more flexibility in the interpretation (although nothing prevents one from removing another “9” to arrive at the next lower iteration). Here I’m analyzing both results since there is a strong emphasis on high-minded philosophizing in both cards.
The derived quintessence card rolls up the essence of all the cards on the table to provide a “big-picture” overview of the archetypal forces at work in the reading. The Hierophant and Temperance express two different kinds of stimulus for illumination of the human spirit, one “dogmatic” and the other “mystical.” Temperance has a powerful alchemical undertone, which can “unpack” the dogma of the Hierophant and sublimate it for use by the Higher Consciousness, mainly by separating the “gold” from the considerable “dross.” (The Hierophant is not so much a “stairway to heaven” as it is a “ring-pass-not” for the unprepared soul.) As a window on the broader focus of this deck, these cards suggest that it will shine a light on the transcendent dimensions and ultimate purpose of any matter that is brought before it.
Summary:
As I read back over what I’ve written, I’m beginning to think that this deck will be a worthy contributor to my customary analytical approach to deciphering the cards. I noticed belatedly that the spread abounds in Threes, Sixes and Nines, the “Three Perfections” of ancient Greek philosophy, which augurs well for the integrity of the deck’s conduct, both in divination and in more mystical pursuits. While the artwork is technically proficient in design and execution, I do wish it thrilled me a bit more as a visual masterwork, facilitating the kind of inspired free-association that the evocative Thoth Minor Arcana offer when that imaginative style is encouraged by the trajectory of the reading. All in all, though, I’m well-satisfied for the $30 I spent on it.
Originally published at http://parsifalswheeldivination.wordpress.com on April 28, 2023.
