Deck Review: MindScapes Tarot

I fell in love with the art for the MindScapes Tarot by John A. Rice the moment I saw it. At that point, it was a Majors Only deck BUT with whispers of an eventual 78-card version, so I decided to bide my time before buying it. I don’t tend to work with Majors Only decks (unless they play nicely with my beloved Minors Only Wyrd of Sarah Howard), so I held out. That said, I did buy an original print of the High Priestess. My wallet winced a little (don’t get me wrong, artists absolutely deserve to get properly paid; I’m just broke, haha), but I couldn’t resist. She’s pulling back the flap to a red-and-white striped bell tent, and I read Tarot from my family’s red-and-white striped bell tent at festivals. It was too serendipdelicious to pass up.

Now the full 78-card deck has finally arrived… and let me tell you: it was worth the wait.

The deck was created by John A. Rice, a writer, actor, and artist, and it began life in lockdown. Like a lot of us during those strange, suspended years, Rice turned inward. “I’m not religious,” he explains in the guidebook, “but the coronavirus pandemic forced me to deepen my spiritual practice, trying to control things on a micro level if I could do nothing for the macro.”

The first cards were dreamlike landscapes – some real, some imagined – that evoked the themes and emotional resonance of the Tarot, but in a looser, more intuitive way. Not so much a direct translation of the RWS system, but something more organic, more subconscious. A friend told him, “You see what you’re doing, right? We’re all stuck inside, and you’re giving people tiny little windows out of their lives, allowing them to see the world in different and magical ways.”

Rice agreed, though for him, those windows aren’t really outward-facing. They open inward. “They allow people to glimpse their inner lives,” he says, “which might [have been malnourished during lockdown], but are present and rich nonetheless.” That’s the real beauty of the MindScapes Tarot: it offers us not just an escape, but a return. A reconnection. A richly painted window back into ourselves.

Eventually, the project was picked up by Hay House, which gave Rice the time and space to create the Minor Arcana, bringing the full 78-card vision to life.

“I hope this deck reminds you of the cyclical nature of all things: the ups and downs, the ‘it too shall pass’, the beautiful turning of the Wheel of Life. I hope that each card gives you a space to rest your head along the way.”

John A. Rice

Rice’s journey into Tarot began in someone else’s collection. “She had a literal treasure chest of Tarot decks in her apartment,” he recalls of a woman who tutored him in Tarot. “Each session we’d use a different one. I got this incredible overview of Tarot artwork from artists all over the world – including some very famous ones – and I thought: I want to put my stamp on this too. So I did.”

That stamp is deeply personal, but also, somehow, universal. Rice often speaks of his art the way I think about Tarot: as something therapy-adjacent, visual prompts that help people unlock emotions and inner truths that are hard to reach with words alone. It’s the same when I use photos to help kick off discussions in research focus groups (for the day job). Images can act as a catalyst. They stir up what’s already within us, and offer a way to share those feelings with others, which is especially helpful for people who might otherwise struggle to articulate what they’re feeling. “Art has a way of breaking down those barriers,” Rice says, “getting past historical issues, getting past even social groups – and really getting us to a place that’s universal. That’s what we all need.”

And that, ultimately, is what the MindScapes Tarot offers. Not dogma. Not instruction. But invitation. A visual language we can speak in our own accent.

The Deck: Look, Feel, and Finish

His approach to the Fool’s journey is especially evocative. Here, it’s reimagined as “the voyage of a stowaway on a sailing ship, each card representing a stop along the way toward some final, fantastic, unknown destination.” The back of the cards features a sketch Rice made after returning to art following a long hiatus which he titled Leaving Safe Harbour. “I hope it is a fitting emblem for our pilgrim,” he writes. It reminded me instantly of Yeats: But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you / And loved the sorrows of your changing face. A soul setting sail, not just to see the world, but to be changed by it.

That journey isn’t confined to any one country or culture. One of Rice’s main critiques of the traditional RWS deck was its lack of multicultural representation, and the MindScapes Tarot seeks to address this. The figures, landscapes, and archetypes here span the globe, sometimes explicitly, sometimes subtly, and always with a sense of deep curiosity and care.

Rice has said he sees a kinship between his suits and Thomas Cole’s famous painting cycle The Course of Empire, a meditation on the rise and fall of civilisations, and the natural cycles that outlast them. Each suit here reflects not only the symbolic essence of its element, but the passing of time across a landscape. Branches (Wands) unfold like the lifespan of a forest, from sapling to decay, and back to mature woodland. Tides (Cups) “chart the course of our emotional lives”, the seascapes serving as both metaphor and mirror, capturing the swell and undertow within us. Spires (Swords) offer “a vast, expansive landscape that fluctuates between serene, meditative minimalism and a rugged collage of peaks and valleys.” And finally Stones (Pentacles) depict a civilisation rising over centuries, a city slowly taking shape, cresting the horizon “like a jewelled mosaic” before crumbling beneath the sands of time.

The MindScapes Tarot comes as an 80-card deck: the traditional 78 plus two special additions (The Catacomb and The Great Work). The cards are standard Tarot size (2.75″ x 4.75″) and housed in a sturdy two-part box that feels built to last. The included guidebook is paperback but generous, with an introductory essay, card-by-card explanations, and some journalling prompts. The cardstock has a soft matte finish, slightly powdery to the touch. The cards are mid-thickness and a little stiff straight out of the box, but should mellow nicely with regular use.

Greatest Hits: My Favourite Cards from the MindScape Tarot

The deck starts strong – really strong. I love the first three cards, but it’s the Fool that immediately captured my heart. The Fool is our pilgrim preparing to stowaway on their old-school Spanish galleon. I adore that their faithful little dog companion still trots along beside them. The colours are stunning: all warm pinks and golden yellows, evoking not just the start of a journey, but a literal dawn. It immediately made me think of Homer’s much-repeated line from ‘The Odyssey’: emos d’erigeneia phane rhododaktulos eos. “Early-born rosy-fingered Dawn appeared…” What better reference than the OG great boat-tastic adventure story? It’s such a fitting visual note to strike for the Fool’s glorious zero, and such a promising opening to this deck’s voyage.

The Magician is the secret grotto pool of dreams, with its beautiful shaft of light taking on the role of the ‘as above, so below’ pointing fingers. Look closely and you’ll also spot a lantern, a pickaxe, some gemstones, and a gold panning dish on the table: whimsical little echoes of the four traditional suits, reimagined as tools of earthly and mystical exploration. It’s subtle and clever. This isn’t a Magician who dazzles; this is a Magician who invites you to look deeper, to search the shadows for your power.

And then… that High Priestess. I’ve already mentioned my personal connection to the bell tent aesthetic (hello, serendipity), but beyond that, I just love what this version does with the archetype. There’s a childlike curiosity here, a wide-eyed impulse to pull back the flap, to peek behind the veil and enter some secret backstage realm of wonders. It feels like she’s snuck off during the circus, gone exploring somewhere she definitely shouldn’t. It’s dangerous, yes, but also exhilarating. Because that’s what good mysteries do, they lure us in. Keeping the RWS’s nod to the Moon card in the background is so clever too: a reminder that this kind of knowing isn’t always clear or safe, but it is deep.

I’m a sucker for a weaver-style Wheel of Fortune, whether it’s the three Fates at their loom or, in this case, a lone little spider spinning her web. It’s a powerful reminder that our lives are a rich tapestry, always being woven… and we’re not the only ones holding the needle and thread! Sure, we have some control over our paths, but fate also has its say. As the guidebook puts it: “Sometimes you are the spider, sometimes the prey.” These webs also hint at our interdependence. We’re part of a world-wide web (lol) – part of a larger story that entwines all people and all things.

The Wheel as weaver asks us to stay aware of the power we do hold: to create, to redirect, to spin something new. But it also reminds us that sometimes we must receive change at the hands of others, whether we welcome it or not. This card also reminds me of Anansi, the spider trickster god of West African folklore: clever, mischievous, and resourceful.

Fate may be fickle, but how we respond to it? That’s where our magic lies.

Temperance here leans into full-on song-of-ice-and-fire mode, and I love that for it. Molten magma drips from a cliffside into a steamy, churning sea, capturing that precise moment when two volatile forces meet and something new is forged. Rice notes that this isn’t just a pretty elemental clash, it’s a moment of “fundamental transformation,” where volcanic rock and obsidian glass are created. That’s alchemy, baby! Temperance isn’t always gentle or pastel-hued. Sometimes it’s about heat, pressure, timing, and patience; letting opposites collide and trusting that something strong and precious will emerge. A powerful, moody take on a card that’s often a bit too chill for its own good.

Death in the MindScapes Tarot is one of the most quietly stunning cards in the deck. It shows an overgrown battlefield, inspired by Gettysburg, where grass now grows over canons and bloodied soil, and nature gently reclaims what war once scarred. It’s a powerful vision of necessary change and growth. Death is painful, yes, but it is required. What struck me most is the stillness of the image, the sense that the worst has already happened, and now the earth is doing its slow, patient work of healing. It speaks to the cycles of despair and peace, the truth that time does not erase what happened, but softens the sharpest edges. You can still hear Death’s echo in this card, but it no longer sounds like screams and gunshots. Now it quietly teaches. And then it lets the wildflowers bloom.

Then we have the World as the ruins of an oracle, reminiscent of Delphi. Delphi was both a literal destination and a place where journeys began anew. Pilgrims would travel from all over the known world to ask their most pressing questions, but they’d leave with work to do. That mirrors The World card’s energy: you’ve reached a milestone, but the journey – the cosmic dance – continues. I also love that in Rice’s version, The World is not perfect and whole, it’s the crumbling remains of something once sacred. That evokes the long arc of human striving: even our highest wisdom eventually fades. But the stones still stand. The wisdom still whispers. There’s a reverence here for what lasts beyond individual lifetimes; the long view, again. It’s a beautiful counterpoint to the triumphant laurels and joyful dance of the RWS World, and it deepens the sense of cyclical time.

I basically love the whole Pents suit – DON’T MAKE ME PICK A FAVOURITE! For me, it’s the suit that most evocatively captures Rice’s central theme for the Minors: the unfolding narrative arc of an element. Each card feels like a chapter in the story of earth – of materiality, structure, and time – tracing the rise (and fall) of a civilisation, from seed to stone to ruin. What’s funny is that in a recent AMA, Rice mentioned that Pentacles were the cards he struggled with most (yes, I asked, obviously!). But honestly? I think they’re some of the strongest in the deck. If it was a struggle, it seriously paid off. The vision is clear, the arc is poignant, and the sense of time stretching across centuries gives the whole suit an aching kind of grandeur.

Here we have the story of a city, rising up out of the desert. From its humble beginnings as a solitary stone shepherd’s hut in the Ace, to the beautiful oasis city we see nestled in the arms of the dunes in the Nine. It really reminds me of the song ‘Telegraph Road’ by Dire Straits, which I loved as a kid (Knopfler is quite the story teller):

A long time ago came a man on a track
Walking thirty miles with a sack on his back
And he put down his load where he thought it was the best
He made a home in the wilderness

He built a cabin and a winter store
And he ploughed up the ground by the cold lake shore
And the other travellers came walking down the track
And they never went further, no, they never went back

Then came the churches, then came the schools
Then came the lawyers, then came the rules
Then came the trains and the trucks with their loads
And the dirty old track was the Telegraph Road

Then came the mines, then came the ore
Then there was the hard times, then there was a war
Telegraph sang a song about the world outside
Telegraph Road got so deep and so wide
Like a rolling river

I was recording my unboxing for my Insta, merrily whittering away, and I have to say when I clocked the Ten of Pents I stumbled a bit, as it threw me to start with. I was like: oh that’s dark. Because the verdant, thriving jewel of a city we see in the Nine is gone, now no more than a broken citadel poking above the sand. Very Ozymandias (‘no thing… remains… boundless and bare, the lone and level sands stretch far away‘). An indictment on the ephemeral nature of human ambition, of power, of legacy.

I’m gonna go full cheese here, dear readers. This deck feels like one of those contributions, one of those verses. The creator should be rightly proud 💗.

And the King? He runs the city. Seated high in his citadel, ledger open, coins stacked beside him, he mentors the system he once helped build. There’s pride, yes, but also stewardship. He wants this place to last.

Together, the Stones Court tells a story not just of power or prestige, but of investment: of time, effort, care, and vision across generations. A suit that begins with a hut and ends with a civilisation, and this Court feels like the people who built it brick by brick.

The Ace of Spires (Swords) is visually arresting, a perfect match for the sharp gleam of insight it represents. The rising sun’s rays slice through the scene like a blade, capturing that exact moment when clarity breaks through. It’s the Tarot equivalent of that classic “light dawns on Marblehead” moment (#80sTomCruiseMovies4Life): the sudden realisation of something obvious, often accompanied by a forehead smack and a muttered “Ohhh.” It’s the “Ah-ha!” card. The image is crisp, clean, and luminous: a burst of cognitive energy that feels like seeing the world with new eyes.

The Six of Spires reimagines the classic Six of Swords with a network of rope bridges strung between treacherous mountain peaks. It’s such a striking image: fragile, purposeful, and brave. Like the RWS version, this card speaks of safe passage, of movement away from hardship. But it doesn’t sugarcoat the journey. The danger is still there, woven into the landscape. Just as the original card carries the swords with it in the boat, this one reminds us that we bring our burdens with us, but we move anyway. Progress here is tentative, strung between points of risk, but it’s progress all the same. A beautiful interpretation that honours both the hope and the caution this card traditionally holds.

The Nine of Spires (Swords) comes in hot – literally! It’s a volcanic eruption, all fire and ash and molten anxiety. It perfectly captures that feeling of pressure building silently inside your head until suddenly – boom – it all spews out in a hot, chaotic torrent. All those thoughts you’ve tried to suppress or rationalise come roaring out like lava in the dead of night, and there’s no stuffing them back into the mountain. The nightmarish colour palette, harsh reds, blacks, purples, only adds to the emotional intensity. This isn’t a quiet moment of worry; it’s a full-on psychic meltdown. But in some ways, that release is also cathartic. At least now it’s out.

Then the Four of Wands (Branches) is a lovely rendition of a literal harvest for the ‘harvest festival’ card.

The Three of Cups (Tides) as three joyous dolphins frolicking through the waves perfectly captures the spirit of the card.

The Six of Tides (Cups) is pure memory, soft and shimmering like the surface of the sea at dusk. It shows a pair of small sailboats gliding through the gloaming, the wind just strong enough to catch the sails, that perfect childhood moment when it feels like you’re flying. There’s nothing but the simple joy of being there, no destination, no pressure, just presence. It stirred something deep in me, that gentle ache of remembering something half-forgotten but deeply cherished. It also reminded me of the old Nat King Cole song: “Red sails in the sunset, way out on the sea / Oh, carry my loved one home safely to me.”

The Nine of Tides (Cups) is just idyllic. A golden ribbon of sunset stretches across a millpond-still sea, and we’re invited to follow it: softly, slowly, with nothing but our own quiet satisfaction to accompany us. It’s peaceful, unshowy, and full of quiet pleasure. “As you glide along the tranquil waters of contentment,” the guidebook says, “let gratitude steer your course and inspire you to share your blessings with the world.” And honestly? That’s exactly the energy this cards evokes. Fulfilment, yes, but also generosity. The emotional tide going out to bless others.

The Ten of Tides (Cups) then takes that serenity and deepens it, with a radiant rainbow that doesn’t just arc above, but continues down into the water. It’s a perfect metaphor for the harmony between inner and outer worlds, the way our thoughts and emotions reflect one another when we’re truly happy. The sea endlessly reflects the sky, and the sky the sea.

At first glance, an aqueduct might seem like a dry, architectural metaphor for the King of Cups. But look deeper, and it’s absolutely perfect. The King of Cups is often read as the master of emotional balance: deep-feeling, steady, compassionate, but not overwhelmed. An aqueduct captures this idea with striking clarity. The aqueduct doesn’t block the water. It channels it. That’s the King of Cups all over. He doesn’t deny emotion or float away in it, he finds structure for it. His power lies in containment, not repression. It’s about directing deep feeling where it’s needed, in a way that sustains others. He is, literally, a conduit.

You can buy the MindScapes Tarot from most major retailers, as well as many indie outlets, and at the time of writing, it’s currently on sale for just £11 (that’s 50% off!) on the publisher’s website, Hay House. Honestly, that’s a bonkers bargain for a deck of this quality, beauty, and depth. I wish I’d caught the sale myself, but hey, that’ll teach me to pre-order from the Evil Empire. You reap what you sow, Lucy. You reap what you sow.

This isn’t just a visually stunning deck, it’s one with real soul. John A. Rice has created something rare here: a Tarot deck that feels timeless, emotionally resonant, and deeply thought through. From the sweep of its Minor Arcana story arcs to the luminous symbolism of the Majors, the MindScapes Tarot invites you not just to read the cards, but to journey through them.

If you like your decks painterly, poignant, and just a little bit mythic, or if you’re a fan of atmospheric, narrative-rich decks like the Tyldwick Tarot, then the MindScapes Tarot absolutely deserves a spot on your shelf… and in your heart.

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UPDATE: For folks who prefer video walkthroughs/reviews, David B has done a fab and very thorough walkthrough here. Seeming he mentions this blog so kindly, I thought it would be nice to return the favour 🙂