There is a strange feeling that accompanies the end of a long journey.
Not triumph.
Not relief.
Something quieter.
The sensation of standing at a doorway, one hand on the frame, knowing there is still an entire landscape waiting beyond it.
As I continue working on the Phantasmagoria Tarot, I find myself approaching that threshold. Many of the Major Arcana paintings have taken shape over the past months and years, emerging slowly through layers of research, revision, symbolism, and paint. While several pieces are still works in progress, the vision of the Major Arcana has become clearer than ever before.
The figures that inhabit this deck have become familiar companions. They have followed me through uncertainty, grief, transformation, illness, inspiration, and countless hours in the studio. Each card has asked its own questions.
The Fool asks what it means to begin.
The High Priestess asks what remains hidden.
Death asks what must change.
Judgment asks what happens when we finally hear the call that has been echoing beneath the surface all along.
Together, they form a narrative that feels less like a sequence of events and more like a psychological landscape—a journey through memory, identity, shadow, and rebirth.
In many ways, the Major Arcana has become the backbone of Phantasmagoria itself.
Yet despite the progress, these paintings are not finished.
Some still require revision. Others need details refined, symbolism strengthened, or compositions reconsidered. Like the themes they represent, they continue to evolve. I have learned that tarot imagery often reveals itself gradually, and forcing a card to completion before it is ready rarely produces the result I am seeking.
So they remain in conversation with me.
Works in progress.
Living things.
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At the same time, I find my attention increasingly drifting toward what comes next: the Minor Arcana.
This is both exciting and intimidating.
The Major Arcana often receives the most attention because it contains the grand archetypes—the dramatic transformations, revelations, and spiritual milestones. The Minor Arcana, however, is where life actually happens.
It lives in ordinary moments.
In work and exhaustion.
In relationships and conflict.
In celebrations and disappointments.
In the quiet repetition of daily existence.
If the Major Arcana tells the story of the soul, the Minor Arcana tells the story of being human.
And there is a daunting beauty in that.
Seventy-eight cards can feel like a mountain when viewed all at once. It is easy to become overwhelmed by the scale of the project and to focus on what remains unfinished rather than what has already been accomplished.
But perhaps that feeling is fitting.
After all, every tarot journey begins with The Fool standing at the edge of an unknown path.
As I look toward the coming months, my goal is simple: continue moving forward.
Not perfectly.
Not quickly.
Just consistently.
To return to the studio.
To keep sketching.
To keep painting.
To trust that each completed piece becomes a stepping stone toward the larger vision.
Phantasmagoria has always been a project concerned with transformation, and perhaps creating a tarot deck is its own lesson in that process. The work changes. The artist changes. The meaning changes.
What matters is continuing to answer the call.
So while the Major Arcana remains unfinished, it also feels alive in a way that completed things rarely do. And as I stand at this threshold, looking toward the Minor Arcana waiting in the distance, I am reminded that every deck—like every journey—is created one card at a time.
The path forward may be long.
But the next card is waiting.
