The Quiet Power of Tarot’s Shadow
In tarot, the shadow is never only darkness. Cards like the Moon, Death, the Devil, or the Nine of Swords hold emotional truth in subtle layers rather than dramatic scenes. They ask the reader to face uncertainty, intuition, fear, desire, and transformation without spectacle. My surreal portraits and botanicals move in the same direction. They avoid violence or harsh imagery; instead, they soften darkness until it becomes contemplative. This gentler form of horror—what I call soft horror—mirrors the spiritual depth of tarot’s shadow cards, where discomfort is a catalyst for understanding.
Darkness as a Spiritual Texture
Shadow in tarot is textured. It is not emptiness but a dim landscape where inner knowledge gathers before revealing itself. In my work, darkness behaves similarly. Soft blacks, muted violets, and deep blues create a veil around the figure, not to hide meaning but to shape it. This atmosphere makes the portrait feel inward-facing, as if the viewer has entered a private emotional space. The soft horror in these tones does not shock; it resonates. It channels the feeling of standing at the edge of intuition, waiting for something true to surface.
Botanicals Growing Through the Shadow
Many of my surreal botanicals grow from within this dimness. Their stems twist, their petals mirror one another, and their cores glow as if aware of something the figure has not yet voiced. In tarot, botanical motifs—roses, lilies, vines—often carry messages of renewal, purity, or entanglement. In my work, they take on a darker, more symbolic role. They grow out of tension, out of pressure, out of memory. They embody shadow as a living process rather than an endpoint. The flowers do not brighten the scene; they breathe within it, creating a spiritual texture that feels both eerie and tender.
Gentle Horror as Emotional Honesty
Soft horror rejects extremes. It does not rely on grotesque imagery or aggression. Instead, it reveals the uncanny through stillness. Tarot does the same. A shadow card rarely screams; it whispers. It asks the reader to sit with discomfort rather than flee from it. My portraits echo that tone. A face with doubled features, an eye too wide, or a glow that seems slightly misplaced creates an atmosphere where the familiar becomes subtly strange. This strangeness is not meant to frighten; it is meant to clarify. The viewer senses that the truth being shown is emotional rather than literal.
Light Emerging From Within
Shadow cards in tarot often include a small but crucial point of light—a star in the distance, a lantern, a moonbeam. This light is symbolic of the inner spark that survives even in uncertainty. Many of my portraits contain this same inner glow. Cheeks flare softly with colour, botanical centres radiate, and dotted halos shimmer around the figure. The light is not external illumination but internal realization. It suggests that even within darkness, something is waking up, aligning, and quietly reorganizing itself.
Colour as the Language of Spiritual Thresholds
Soft horror relies on palette more than literal imagery. Colours carry emotional temperature, and tarot uses them to signal thresholds. In my surreal work, deep reds simmer with intensity, blues create psychic depth, greens vibrate with intuitive growth, and pinks add vulnerability that softens the darker atmosphere. These tones work together the way tarot colours do: guiding the viewer toward an emotional interpretation rather than a literal one. Darkness becomes a field where meaning ripens.
Stillness as Ritual
One of the most important spiritual qualities of both tarot and soft horror is stillness. In tarot, stillness is the moment the card meets the reader. The meaning does not arrive through action; it arrives through presence. My portraits hold that same ritual pause. The figures do not move. They simply exist—quiet, aware, watching. Their stillness becomes a space where the viewer can project intuition, fear, longing, or recognition. Shadow becomes a site of connection rather than disconnection.
Soft Horror as Spiritual Truth
Shadow cards remind us that spiritual truth is not always gentle, but it can be tender. It unfolds slowly and asks for honesty. My surreal botanicals and portraits embody that same dynamic. They merge darkness with softness, revealing that fear, intuition, and transformation are not separate experiences but intertwined states. In this union of tarot and soft horror, darkness becomes a guide, not a threat. It becomes the space where emotional truth finally speaks.
