Vittoria Benzine, Elephant’s resident psychic, returns to read the art world’s tarot. What came true from her last reading? What new revelations do the cards hold for the industry’s ever-elusive psyche?
The term “art world” means something different to everyone. There are even competing versions of it in New York, that epicentre of the big bad global Art World, comprising fairs, biennials, and galleries. But even that echelon isn’t synonymous with art, that inevitable byproduct of life. Not that art and the Art World are mutually exclusive, though; they intersected just last month, for instance, at Sikkema Malloy Jenkins gallery in Chelsea, for the opening of Proposal for a Monument by Yashua Klos. The exhibition revisits portraits Klos started making in 2015, wherein people and architecture collide, and introduces a few new politically-charged sidewalks.
The Art World and Real Life, however, tend to intersect a lot less. Artists like Klos—who create conceptually complex yet visually alluring (and relatable!) work—provides a missing critical link. Meanwhile, Diva Corp tried calling attention to the disparity between the art world and the wider world when they sent an emissary to disrupt a criticism panel at Pasadena’s Art Center last month, which went hard for six minutes, but ran out of steam.
“How is art versus the art world doing?” I ask, settling onto my yoga mat to pull tarot cards weeks later, the day hearing Where Is The Love? on Pandora Radio made me cry. I’ve had reservations about that Art Center panel’s moderator, Jason Farago, ever since reading his treatise on cultural decline three years ago. But Farago made a smart pivot upon realising his event’s demise—art does have a generational Oedipal complex. Ask me how I know. Is it because we learn art generationally? Is it age, class, both? And am I right to think I’m not alone?
Bearing that in mind, here’s the spread I laid out to get a well-rounded temperature check on art:
As per protocol, I shuffled the three decks and pulled all eight cards as prescribed without ever looking at how the spread was shaping up. Here’s what I saw whenever I finally looked down:
The good news is (cue George Carlin voice) art will be fine, even as technology erodes attention spans and free time. If anything, it’s the art world that’s going away—or at least facing troubles.
On the Eastern side of the spread, you’ll notice that, over the last generation, the art world embodied the Ten of Wands—toiling away, nearing the finish line, and exhaustion. Now, the art world is in the Four of Cups reversed, an energy of releasing boredom, welcoming excitement. This time, though, I’m called to read this card as if the art world is also striving to evolve beyond the deadening effects of the constant world developments this generation is witnessing.
How is the art world slated to fare? The Knight of Cups reversed. Honestly, I never love to see a Knight, and reversed is even worse. Meanwhile, observe the Western half of the spread. Art itself, last generation, enjoyed a nascent intellectual start. Now it’s in the Eight of Swords. I adore this card—it assures me that my captors are under my command. To make matters sweeter, art’s side of the story with the Ten of Pentacles coming next, denoting divine generational wealth.
You know, I used three decks because I was open to the possibility that cards could repeat across that top row, though obviously, that did not happen. So, since we’ve established that art and the art world are in different states, how are they relating? Interestingly, days later I attended the Whitney Biennial’s press preview. I missed the apparently boring curatorial remarks, but quickly learned that relationality was the buzzword. How are art and the art world relating? “Not easily,” the Two of Wands reversed says. Advice for both is The Sun reversed: savour the satisfaction within.
Building on that new knowledge, then, I pull three cards for the art world’s month ahead. January’s spread said that 2026 would start slow, until March. I think that’s been true. Plus, real life has been cacophonous, to say the least. These three cards indicate the pause continuing, dragging, then bam—a secret comes out. That’s what The Moon reversed means. Mercury will indeed be retrograde until later this month, hindering communications. I grabbed a separate deck to get more intel, and drew the Six of Swords reversed, Temperance, and the World. No small matter, huh? The logical read would be that something is stuck and will become unstuck—but that some entity or system could instead be solidifying its staying power, too. Regardless, I get a good feeling from these six cards. They look so pretty. Whatever happens will surely be for the best.
I turn to Instagram to solicit reader questions. One respondent cuts to the chase—will war impact the Gulf region’s burgeoning art market? I personally wouldn’t pull cards on such a question, especially here! But if you do, get in touch—I’m curious.
Nevertheless, I do want to know, once and for all, whether art and politics are fated to intertwine. Alas, the cards also refuse to give a clear answer, offering only the Eight of Wands, Six of Cups, Eight of Cups reversed, and Knight of Swords reversed. The Eight of Wands is the only card in the iconic Rider Waite deck that doesn’t feature people, signifying fast communication. The Six of Cups encapsulates sweet childhood nostalgia, while the Eight of Cups reversed is a lot like the Six of Swords reversed. Ugh, and we have another knight—reversed, too!—symbolising intellectual burnout. That is actually quite clear. Maybe the art world needs to set itself aright before trying to help the world beyond. In my experience, art people are not very good listeners.
Another Instagram caller asks what colours artists should use to help heal society. I pull the Six of Wands and immediately notice the horse’s coat matches my socks—both green! I flip the deck and find the Emperor, whose red robe echoes the Six of Wands. That’s the axis to mind, I think.
