Tarot – Jen Fries Arts

I buy into the old superstition that whatever you find yourself doing on New Year’s Day will set the tone for the whole year to come. So I make sure I spend every New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day doing just want I want to do and nothing else. Generally, this consists of being in my studio, in my pajamas, with a cup of something caffeinated, some music playing, doing creative work.

Which is exactly what I’m doing right now – working on An Alchemy of Dragons. I just took a short break to post this note to my readers and friends.

I made a quick check of the auspices, and it seems my instincts are in track, at least for the start of 2023. See, we’ve all been through a lot of changes – both setbacks and advances – and I’ve had a hell of a time coming up with resolutions, plans, all that sort of thing. So I’ve decided that, for me, 2023 is going to be a year of figuring things out. Analyzing trends. Taking stock of changes and new contexts. Choosing where to go next, and picking how I want to get there.

And it turns out the divinatory signs agree with me.

Numerology says 2023 boils down to the number 7, a number of deep analysis and the search for wisdom, of questioning, examining, thinking things through, making decisions.

In Tarot, the 7th card of the Major Arcana, the Chariot, signifies the force of will joined with action, the path forward, doing our best with what we have, guided by what’s within us.

The 7’s of the Minor suits are similarly suggestive. The 7 of Pentacles is the nervous optimism of the farmer devoting labor now for future goals, setting aside anxieties to nurture his work. The 7 of Swords encourages us to grab opportunities when we find them, while being cautious of distracting blather out in the world. Don’t be shy, but don’t get too tricky at the same time. The 7 of Wands promises success if we stick to our principles and put in the work, no matter how daunting. And the 7 of Cups shows us all the options open to us. The challenge is to think before we choose.

Finally, the Chinese lunar new year on January 22 will usher in the Year of the Rabbit, predicted to start a period of relative calming and growth – a good time to approach our plans with optimism tempered by patience and planning.

Are things guaranteed to be easier? No. But I have a feeling this could be a better year, if we make it so. I feel like 2023 is one of those starting-a-new-chapter kind of years – a chance for us to stock of where the past few years have brought us, what real options we have on hand, and what suits us best in our lives right now.

Personally, I’m looking forward to it.

So in keeping with the holiday, I raise a figurative glass from me to you. Happy New Year!

Merry meet and merry part, I drink to you with all my heart.

jfries-alchemy-ch-2-old-ram-10.6.22 — Illustration from *An Alchemy of Dragons*, Ye Olde Ram tavern

Surprisingly busy this summer, despite the distancing and closing. I hope you have been having a good summer, too, and enjoying the weather or at least beating the heat.

To catch you up:

Estuary Moon is viewable at the Brickbottom Gallery online, along with works by many other wonderful artists. You can find that exhibition here, through August 15.

I’ve been experimenting with new-to-me techniques, resulting in a new collection of small monochrome landscapes, acrylic on paper. You can find those under Artworks, here.

I’ve also been rebinding an old book from my library – a 1970’s hard cover edition of Arthur E. Waite’s Pictorial Key to the Tarot, a gift from my friends back in high school. It’s a low-budget, no-frills book, but it has sentimental value, so when the binding finally started to give up the ghost, I decided to rehabilitate it with my favorite non-adhesive book style, the Japanese tetsuyoso binding. It’s quite the job, as the 40-year-old glue did not want to come off, despite dropping pages. I had to do more cutting and reconstructing than I’d hoped, and I added some muslin to reinforce the spine, but it’s going well. The refurbished cover, dressed in one of my paste papers, is drying under weight as I write this.

Pictorial Key to the Tarot in progress

More reconstructed botanicals are coming up. White pine and goldenrod are in progress.

And I did a bit of housekeeping on the website – cleaned up the images, consolidated the books under one heading. The Artworks pages look cleaner and prettier now.

Outside the studio, it’s been pretty much gardening and birding round the clock. Well…I’m not going to any shopping malls, that’s for sure. The community garden is at war with our local city rabbits, but while others engage in brute force with brooms and hoses, I have entered into a psychological battle with one particular adorable fluff-nugget who has a fondness for bean tendrils. Yeah, okay, Peter Cottontail, but I notice he doesn’t touch the aromatic herbs, tomatoes, or turnip greens, so guess what this garden will look like next year? Buckle-up, Buttercup. It is brought.

We’ve also had a fun summer visitor to the mulberry tree outside our kitchen window. Camera-shy little thing – this is the best shot I’ve gotten of him – but from the color, the wing markings, and a brief glimpse of his beak shape, I believe this is a Baltimore oriole. The first I’ve seen in scenic Somerville. Judge for yourself, comparing my blurry photo to the entry in AllAboutBirds.org.

JFries oriole 8.2020 — Sneaky glimpse through the bushes. It’s totally an oriole.

It’s not easy to write upbeat blog posts these days, what with all that’s going on. I’m not even going to say “in the world.” Let’s just call it – things are not swell in the USA, and yes, there are people to blame for that. I spend about as much time as most people worrying and growling over it. There is a lot of uncooperative BS being bandied about that I am completely over and done with, together with the people spouting it, and the horses they rode in on. Done. I’m just done. It makes staying home easier, at any rate.

But after all, my sainted mother and I and our immediate neighbors are all healthy, and there’s a Baltimore oriole outside my kitchen window. What have I got to complain about? (Okay, plenty, but you know what I mean.)

So take care. Be well. Wear your masks. And look out your windows. There’s probably something pretty and amazing out there that will lift you up and keep you going.

A walk in my garden