Deck Review: The Spacious Tarot

A while back now, I read a blog post by Tarot reader and deck creator Carrie Mallon that she and artist Annie Ruygt had no plans (for the time being) to do any further reprints of their famous Spacious Tarot deck. As it’s an old favourite of mine (you’ll see it cropping up time and time again in my deep dives) I thought to myself ‘oh, I really should spend some time with it and write a review before it goes OOP‘.

Sadly, life (read: marking 😂) got in the way, and it looks like the deck is now OOP on the creators’ website. You can still pick up secondhand copies easily enough, and my read on Mallon’s statement is ‘never say never’ with regards to future reprints – she mentions their intention to do a third reprint at some point. Excitingly, Mallon and Ruygt are now collaborating together on a new Tarot-related project, and given how much I love the Spacious Tarot I can’t wait to see what they come up with next!

The Spacious Tarot, as the name suggests, is about space. Without wanting to geek-out too much, and wander off into esoteric waffle, I love space. I mean, yes, the cosmic kind, but also the concept of space. I sort of became an honorary geographer for a bit, as Geography (as an academic discipline) became the nexus for some really exciting and inclusive research into sex work.

My friends and family were all like: ‘what does space have to do with sex work?’

Well, a lot.

Because sex work, like any kind of work, happens in space. But for sex workers, space – both physical and virtual – plays a uniquely significant role. You can’t use space casually or haphazardly when your work is criminalised or heavily stigmatised. So people who sell (and buy) sex often navigate their locale very differently from your average city user. And in turn, space starts to shape not only the nature of the work, but also how society perceives that work.

The feminist geographer Doreen Massey’s incredible book For Space really helped me think through this. In it, she writes: “space is always in process, always becoming. It is an open system.” And that, I think, offers a beautiful lens for Tarot as well. Tarot asks us to reflect deeply on the process of our lives – to notice that we, too, are always becoming. We, too, are open systems. Our lives aren’t flat surfaces to be mapped or measured; they’re shifting stories, layered and alive.

 “A lot of what I’ve been trying to do over the all too many years when I’ve been writing about space is to bring space alive, to dynamize it and to make it relevant, to emphasize how important space is in the lives in which we live. Most obviously I would say that space is not a flat surface across which we walk… [When] you’re taking a train across the landscape [or going for a walk] – you’re not traveling across a dead flat surface that is space: you’re cutting across myriad stories going on. So instead of space being this flat surface it’s like a pincushion of a million stories: if you stop at any point in that walk there will be a… story.”

Doreen Massey on space, Social Science Bites podcast

Tarot gives us a moment to stop. To press our fingers into the pincushion of a million stories. To notice which ones we’re still writing.

The illustrations in The Spacious Tarot feel like fragments of those myriad stories, each card a scene you can step into. They’re presented from a first-person POV, as if you’re standing just inside the frame. This perspective gives the cards a striking immediacy, but at the same time the deck as a whole is very calming. It’s not just the compete absence of (human) figures¹ in the cards, it’s the sense, of, well, spaciousness! You feel like you’re always under a wide sky, a big sky, far away from anyone else. It’s just you and the land, you and nature – intimate and impersonal all at once. And yet The Spacious Tarot doesn’t feel lonely. Instead, it celebrates the gloriousness of solitude: the healing, restorative magic of being truly, and intentionally, alone. Of creating a story just for you.

In Massey’s terms, space is never fixed. It’s always being made and remade by how we move, feel, and interact. The Spacious Tarot taps into that same understanding. It holds space not as static setting, but as a process: healing, shifting, open. The creator Carrie Mallon describes the world of the Spacious Tarot as “an intimate, magical, mysterious world that revealed itself to us [as creators] in its own time”. Reading with it feels much the same.

The Deck: Look, Feel, and Finish

I think my favourite thing about the deck is the use of colour, especially the way light is painted. Ruygt has a real gift for capturing luminous skies (there’s something almost Turner-esque about them). This attention to light shines especially in the Major Arcana, where we really get a sense of the Fool travelling through shifting phases of brightness and shadow, day and night, as he journeys toward completion in the World card.

In addition, a lot of the cards throughout the deck are drawn to depict dawn or dusk – liminal times where the world shifts from one thing to another, but for a moment is not quite either. Neither night nor day, these moments of transition evoke the in-between-ness that Tarot so often explores: balance, duality, and becoming. The use of these thresholds, both visual and symbolic, deepens the sense of harmony that runs through the deck. It all just feels… right.

“I keep having this feeling that the deck is coming forward how it is meant to come forward. It’s like the visual, energetic world of these cards was already out there somewhere in the ether, and Annie and I have been providing a way for it to take shape and form. The title of the deck came to me one lovely spring day while I was out for a walk: The Spacious Tarot. It felt right. Spacious describes the energy of the deck itself, and I would say it also describes the energy going into the creation process.”

Carrie Mallon

The deck broadly follows the RWS tradition, though P/K/Q/K are replaced with Child/Explorer/Guardian/Elder. This subtle shift de-centres people/personalities, and gently unsettles the rigid hierarchies often baked into Tarot. Yes, there’s still a kind of hierarchy, but it’s one rooted in age, experience, and relational roles, rather than in dominance or gendered power. It feels more inclusive, more celebratory of difference. And because these roles aren’t tied to gender, ethnicity, or culture, the deck opens itself to a broader, more universal language. We all see the stars. We all walk in the sun.

The Court cards also feature the only animals we see in the deck. Here we have fish (dreamy, fluid, deep) for the Cups court, bears (earthy, strong, grounded) for the Pents, crows (clever, sharp, a little uncanny) for the Swords, and salamanders (fiery, quick, transformative) for the Wands. The animals aren’t up close, they’re just how you’d observe them in the wild – so there’s nothing about this deck that feels cutesy or twee. Instead everything feels organic, reverent, and, despite their complete absence(!), very, very human.

I definitely prefer the expansive, natural landscapes shown in the Majors than the almost pippish Minors, but this isn’t to say that the Minors have nothing to offer. The continued first person POV works well for the most part, though I find the Wands suit a bit stark (still gorgeous light and colours!) The Wands themselves are depicted as less integrated into a backdrop of the wider natural world than some of the other suits, and so they just don’t vibe with me as much. However, I appreciate this is very much a matter of personal taste.

The deck comes in a really well-made clamshell box with a beautiful ribbon insert. The cards are matte and very sturdy (though could do with being a little less stiff). They’re easy to shuffle and are slightly smaller (I think?) than standard Tarot size. I love the dreamy starscape pattern on the cardbacks. The box also contains a small, card-backed guidebook with brief descriptions of the cards’ general meanings and how to interpret the Spacious Tarot’s imagery. What’s really handy about the guidebook is the leaf edges are colour coded, so you can easily flick to the Majors/Wands/Cups/Swords/Pents – very helpful!

Greatest Hits: My Favourite Cards from the Spacious Tarot

I love this Magician, and how neatly it illustrates that the four ‘tools’ of the Tarot are just waiting or us to reach out and apply them to our everyday lives. It’s a little bit eerie too, and I like that for the Magician. Most of the landscapes in this deck feel like places you could stumble across on any walk or hike: quiet clearings or expansive plains. But the Magician feels… different. Special. If you were out in the woods and suddenly came upon a sword, a coin, a teacup, and a stick just floating in front of you, I think most of us would be a bit: wtf?!

And that’s the magic of this card. These are everyday objects – things you recognise, things you could hold in your hands – but here, they’re made extraordinary. That’s what the Magician teaches us: that our lives, too, are full of tools. And the magic is in how we choose to use them.

A beautiful High Priestess. Given the card’s symbolic ties to pomegranates, the Persephone myth, and themes of hidden knowledge and early pregnancy, the choice to depict a pearl nestled inside a (wonderfully vulvic) seashell is perfect. And then, when you look closer, the pearl is the moon. It’s such a rich image: mysterious, intimate, and full of that quietly powerful ‘feminine’ energy the High Priestess holds. It speaks of hidden inner treasures, wisdom that reveals itself slowly, and the beauty that happens when we take our time. It also reminds me of Persephone’s descent – that necessary time in the underworld that eventually brings us Spring: no grit, no pearl. I also love how on-message the incorporation of the seashore is – it serves as liminal space (betwixt sea and land) and the tides are governed by the moon, just as menstrual cycles are. Everything about this card feels intentional and deeply thought-out.

The deck cleverly reimagines the often war-like symbolism of the Emperor by rooting it in the natural world through the image of a poppy. As the flower of remembrance for those lost in battle, the poppy holds both grace and solemnity, making it the perfect emblem for this archetype. The guidebook describes the poppies of the Emperor as being “regimented” and “fall[ing] into line.” But rather than feeling tight-laced or rigid, this orderliness becomes generative. “Helpful systems,” the guidebook notes, “create space for beautiful things to grow.” This really reinforces the deeper message of the Emperor: that structure and discipline aren’t just boring rules or oppressive conditions that are inflicted upon us – they can also be the scaffolding that allows us to thrive. Boundaries, rhythms, systems – they don’t always limit us. They also make room for us to bloom.

I LOVE the idea of Hierophant as an ancestral stone circle – so clever to link this spiritually resonant space to the general idea of community, learning, and mysticism inferred in the Hierophant. And the dancing beams of light depicted in the Lovers card are just beautiful. The guidebook notes that, “this card can speak to partnerships, but it is also about personal identity. What is your unique light? Are you making aligned choices?” It’s an invitation to honour both connection with another and authenticity within ourselves.

And then there’s the Chariot – bold and determined. It reminds us we have the strength and will to press on, even when the path feels upstream. There’s momentum here, not through brute force, but through focused purpose. In her blog, the creator Carrie Mallon writes that this Chariot was inspired by a time she was wading near the edge of the Colorado River, and stepped in a little too far:

“The current grabbed me and I panicked for a moment because I could not fight against it. I managed to grab a tree branch and pull myself out before I got swept away, but I’ve never forgotten that sensation. It’s part of why this imagery came to me. I picture the determination it takes to press forward against a (metaphorical or literal) current and move towards the light on the horizon. And the power of something as simple as water to carve rocks and canyon walls… With the first person perspective we emphasized that the Chariot is about forward movement. I have a tendency to get moored in nostalgia and over analyzing the past. Sometimes that’s okay. But the Chariot echoes the expression “don’t look backwards, you’re not going that way.” ONWARD!”

Carrie Mallon

Strength as a cactus putting forward a delicate flower in the midst of a barren looking desert is really smart. Mallon writes, “Strength affirms that you can bloom delicately even if you find yourself in a harsh environment… The cactus lives in a dry environment, yet holds reserves of water within… You also have great reserves of gentle power… You are strong and compassionate – believe this, know this, and act accordingly”. It’s a quiet, enduring kind of strength, the kind that reminds us resilience doesn’t have to roar, like the traditional RWS lion. Sometimes, it simply blooms.

I love how the Star card focusses on the bright, vibrant image of the Star itself, shining above us in the heavens. There’s a beautiful simplicity in this image – a single point of light, constant and clear, offering hope not through spectacle, but through its quiet, unwavering presence. Sometimes, that’s all we need: something to remind us that even when we feel lost and alone we’re still connected to the vastness above.

Sun cards often feature sunflowers; beautiful, bright flowers whose young buds famously exhibit heliotropism – that is, they track the movement of the sun across the sky (though interestingly this stops when sunflowers reach maturity – perhaps a gentle nudge from the card itself to stay connected to our inner child, and to keep seeking wonder even as we grow?) Sunflowers can be taken to represent us searching for spiritual connection within this life, by turning our faces towards the sun – the clear light of truth. In her blog, the co-creator of the deck Carrie Mallon points out the fact that “sunflowers track the light across the sky… [has] much to teach us about embracing radiance”.

A beautiful Ace of Cups, pictured here as overflowing – our emotions flowing freely. I really like how, although it’s a man-made object, it blends seamlessly into the horizon behind it. There’s no hard boundary between the self and the world here, no separation between what we feel and how we connect.

To me this Nine of Cups indicates that physical pleasure and indulgence, while gratifying, is fleeting – just like the seeds of the dandelion clock. It’s a reminder to savour joy while it lasts, to make hay while the sun shines, and to say yes to those wish-fulfilling Nine of Cupsy moments when they arise. But it also gently nudges us to think about what brings deeper, longer-lasting fulfilment. Fleeting pleasures are beautiful, but lasting contentment often requires something more rooted.

The Eight of Wands in this deck is stunning; it beautifully captures the swiftness and momentum that define the card’s energy. There’s a real sense of motion here, of things already being in flight, already unfolding. I also feel that this card hints at a deeper truth: that change will happen with or without our involvement. Just like shooting stars or other celestial bodies, these forces exist outside of our sphere of control. Sometimes we need to adapt or else find ourselves left behind. The Eight of Wands can remind us that often the best thing for us to do is to align ourselves with the motion already in progress.

The Ace of Pentacles as a winged seed works really well. It captures the potential and promise of something small that, with time and care, can take root and grow. It’s especially satisfying when paired with the Ten of Pentacles, which shows a fully grown tree: the seed’s journey come full circle.

I also love the Eight of Pentacles as a depiction of bees. Busy little worker bees are the perfect symbol for this card’s themes of diligence and craftsmanship. It’s a gentle, affirming reminder that mastery comes through effort – and that the work itself can be sweet.

The Six of Swords in this deck is quietly beautiful, with sunlight breaking through the clouds to light the way forward. It offers the classic message of moving toward a brighter horizon, a transition from turbulence to calm. I think that shaft of light can just as easily represent an intellectual epiphany – the moment when clarity cuts through confusion and we realise we deserve better than the situation we’re currently in. It’s the shift from mental fog to focused thought, from stuckness to possibility. A reminder that even when change is slow, the light is always trying to find us.

The Spacious Tarot’s Eight of Swords feels much more hopeful than the traditional RWS depiction. Instead of a blindfolded figure hemmed in by swords, we see the ghostly outline – the absence – of a sword that once sat trapped within the cage.

But now?

It’s gone. It’s free.

This simple shift in imagery speaks volumes. So often when we find ourselves feeling hopelessly trapped or stuck, just one small change in perspective can liberate us. As the guidebook reminds us: “Quit affirming how stuck you are. Instead, affirm your ability to figure this out.”

The cage is real – but so is the way out.

The Spacious Tarot is a firm favourite of mine, and I really hope it comes back into print. It’s probably not the easiest deck for a total beginner to pick up, and I wouldn’t choose it for reading with others (at least not strangers) but as a tool for self-reflection, it’s fab. It’s just a really solid deck: well made, well conceptualised, well executed. It’s a classic for a reason!

You can still pick up (official) second-hand copies via sites like eBay etc. for a reasonable price.

1. This isn’t strictly true, as there’s some skeletal human hands in the Death card. But I think this still fits the bill – once we’ve died and all that’s left is our bones, we’ve essentially returned to nature. Our remains are now just part of the landscape, like sticks and stones and pools of water. ↩︎

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