Vittoria Benzine, Elephant’s resident psychic, returns to read the art world’s tarot for the month ahead. What came true from her last reading? What new revelations do the cards hold for the industry’s ever-elusive psyche?
The Earth’s northern hemisphere is darkening again. You know what that means—the veil is thin. I think I first heard that phrase on WitchTok in 2020. Now that this neopaganism has gone mainstream, folks like me are casually casting spells they don’t quite understand. Last week, while toiling away at a demanding piece of art criticism, I decided to search, once and for all, where “the veil is thin” comes from. What is this veil? Is it threadbare where spring is starting? Can we chalk it all up to Scorpio season?
There’s no consensus. A contingent of witches (though I am very much not a witch) believes ‘spooky season’ is self-fulfilling. Many think the phenomenon originates in the Celtic Pagan holiday of Samhain, halfway between the autumn equinox and the winter solstice. Others claim the Veil that separates realms dissolves since death abounds amidst harvests and herd cullings. That sparked my question about whether it is also harvest season in, say, Angola. The veil is local, I realise, rather than a uniform layer around Earth. It’s less palpable, famously, in liminal spaces, like lands moving through dawn or dusk, and mesmerising places, like Raúl de Nieves’s new tarot-themed chapel at Pioneer Works, which bathes believers in yellow and magenta light. The veil is personal, as well—thicker for some people, I mean.
Capitalizing on the season, I consulted my trusty tarot decks regarding the art world’s next four weeks. Last month had its triumphs, including the solid Pauline Karpidas sale and a wave of queens like Mary Boone, both of which the cards foretold. A few unsettling omens cropped up as I revisited September’s format for October. Some promising lessons arose, too.
The first scary card, the Three of Swords (a.k.a. heartbreak), represents this week. It’s reversed, fortunately, which means moving on from pain—further clarified by the King of Wands, then the Emperor, evoking a linear narrative. Like the Empress and her queens, the Emperor is the culmination of all four Kings. Here, he’s reversed. Taken together, this trio offers a warning about maladaptive healing. There is an unhealthy way to heal, and it has consequences. There are some people out there savouring this slow art market from a place of pain, for instance.
Next week will embody the Six of Pentacles reversed. Beneath that card sits the Seven of Swords reversed, then Strength, which is the eighth card in the Major Arcana. Look at that 6-7-8—another ascending narrative! It’s a pretty straightforward tale, too: there’s an unfair situation, but the deceit lies end and leonine righteousness prevails. There are so many potential stories that fit this mold, from dealers who short artists to advisors who swindle collectors. Let’s see what, if anything, comes to light.
The Ten of Wands isn’t an ideal mascot for November 3 through 9, but it’s not necessarily scary either. Exhaustion can also be satisfying. Except, look out, that’s the Five of Pentacles beneath you, signifying destitution and abandonment! Nobody likes getting this card, but without our darkest moments, many of us would be insufferable. The Seven of Cups follows—this pesky card has dogged the art world from the start. We’ll return to her momentarily. But for now, let’s just say this industry-wide indecision is becoming a bit taxing, no?
Meanwhile, November 10 through 16 will embody the Knight of Wands (a kind of Lothario) clarified by the Three, then the Two, of Pentacles—both reversed: a descent! Don’t backslide, art world… This month’s reading stops shy of autumn’s big auction week, but we touched on that in September.
Capitalizing on the currently thin veil, I once again flip over each deck at the end for an As Above, So Below read to tie it all together. The World is above, and the Four of Cups reversed below. With the right attitude, this month’s discomfort could prove the worst of it, christening the bounce back. The sky will brighten when we get bored with being bored, says that Four of Cups reversed.
I pulled that four-week spread from my apartment. Three days later, on a flight between Italy and Greece, I pull cards for three of the saucy reader questions we’re fielding this month. Four years ago, a boy told me that travelling at inhumanly fast speeds wedges open the void, peels back the veil. That’s stuck with me ever since. Time stops at the speed of light, right? I put on some Solfeggio Frequencies and start shuffling as soon as I feel my ears pop, starting our descent.
“What’s really going down in Paris this month?” someone else asked. “Should we be packing sequins, black turtlenecks, or rosaries?” I pull the Four of Pentacles reversed (which means relinquishing a scarcity mindset), then Justice (karmic balance). Bring inner peace, especially if you’re attending Art Basel Paris’s frenzied new ultra-early viewing for very, very important people. Maybe bring a fire extinguisher too, because right as I pull these cards, the smoke on the safety instructions plastered in front of me catches my eye. Moments later, fumes fill the air in my vicinity—luckily, it’s just an IQOS. Is it a sign, or did I merely predict that someone needed their fix?
“Which autumn art events should I attend to meet the love of my life?” another reader inquired. Out comes the Four of Swords reversed, and the Eight of Pentacles reversed. First of all, don’t just make plans to go out—you’ve got to follow through! Carpe diem! And try to find happenings that aren’t immediately related to your line of work within the art world—that’ll put you in a flirty state of mind. Remember: opportunity is ripe for the taking. The veil is thin, after all.
