Art Throb #29: The Lovers (Morgan-Greer Tarot, 1979) by Bill Greer, under the direction of Lloyd Morgan

The Lovers (Morgan-Greer Tarot, 1979)
by Bill Greer, under the direction of Lloyd Morgan

What follows is not a traditional tarot reading but an attempt to view a particular card as art, specifically through the lens of Chapter 3 of John Berger's landmark piece of art criticism, Ways of Seeing (1972). I'm aware that choosing a tarot card is controversial. To some people tarot cards represent all that's flaky, 'woo-woo', suspicious, even evil. In my opinion, this is to misunderstand them. Despite not being viewed as proper 'art', tarot cards have a rich, well-documented history and many artists have produced their own versions of these archetypal images that chart the journey of the human soul. A very particular artform, tarot cards are not there to flatter the viewer, rather to act as a tool to develop intuition and prompt reflection, in order that the reader/ querent may take responsibility for their own life.

I love the Morgan-Greer tarot pack. Its borderless format allows intimate access to the imagery; there's no framing device to keep you at a distance, it makes you feel welcome. The figures the cards depict are not remote or aloof, but approachable. You feel you know them in real life, which is part of the point of tarot. Lushly illustrated in bright, vivid colours, the Morgan-Greer illustrations are not subtle (which makes them good for beginners), and look as if they could be taken from a children's book.
The Lovers (1910) according to
A.E. Rider-Waite (1857-1942),
illustrated by Pamela Colman Smith (1878-1951).

Except for this one. It's not subtle, but neither would you find it in a children's book, which marks it out as an anomaly in the pack. While other tarot packs depict the Lovers as naked but sexless (the Rider Waite, for example (left)) or even fully dressed, I've not seen one as explicit and unambiguous as Morgan-Greer's. There's no messing about here; not only are these lovers explicit in their nakedness, but also in their imperfect bodies. The Morgan-Greer pack was published in 1979 and it shows in its obvious evocation of The Joy of Sex (1972), hair and all. No one has waxed, shaved or plucked and the man is the very definition of ‘hairy arsed’; hair covers much of his body and makes him seem more naked. "Hair is associated with sexual power, with passion," says John Berger in Ways of Seeing (p.55), which is probably at least partly why in classical painting women's body hair is removed. It may also partly explain the controversy when model and artist Arvida Byström recently posted pictures of herself with unshaved legs on Instagram. Women unapologetically displaying body hair evidently remains threatening to some.

While most tarot cards deliberately contain some ambiguity in order to maximise interpretation, everything about this particular Morgan-Greer card is unambiguous: there is almost too much information. The lovers’ bodies are not perfect, at least compared with what we now mostly deem as such, and this contributes to its directness. Romantic dreamers our lovers may be but this card is chiefly about physical love. So much so, there’s an urgency about it. These two haven't even waited to 'get a room' — it seems the sight of all those arum (or is it calla?) lilies has made them want to get it on al fresco. "Darling, I want you here, right now, in this field of lilies!" they seem to be saying. And yes, while I mention them, consider those lilies: traditionally associated with the Virgin Mary, their colour symbolising purity, lilies are also, curiously, at once vagina-like and phallic. Not only are our lovers still standing, but everything in this picture is also resolutely upright, including his manhood. It’s no mistake that a lily has been placed directly in front of where his penis is. The effect of strategically concealing it with one of these flowers is more comical than if it had been left uncovered.

Symbolising the divine sanctioning of the couple's love, there's no shortage of Biblical symbolism on this card. A fleshy redhead unapologetically enjoying her right to her sexual appetite being satisfied, the woman could be said to resemble Mary Magdalene, while her bearded partner is a dead ringer for Christ. Together, they are also reminiscent of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, the bright sun shining above them like a golden halo. With its sharp black outlines and strong colours, the image also has the stark vividness of stained glass.

Our lovers are about to disappear into the vegetation. For the moment, however, they remain the object of viewers’ gazes, while expecting no reciprocity from outside the picture frame. This is worth noting particularly in the case of the woman. What's really great about this card is that the woman is as active a participant in this image as the man, and this is because of her gaze. She is not the passive recipient of her lover's gaze; their gazes are equal, absorbing each other. And because their gazes are equal, their relationship is equal.

The woman is there on her own terms. This is unusual when it comes to naked women in the tradition of art history, when the relationship between the woman — you know, the nude — and the male spectator (most likely not nude) is never equal. In those thousands of examples, the nude woman on the canvas exists purely for the satisfaction of the male gaze. "The ideal spectator is always assumed to be male and the image of the woman is designed to flatter him," says Berger (p. 64). "Women are there to feed the appetite, not to have any of their own." (p.55). As an aside, this is something that’s not just confined to art history. As Kate Hardie recently wrote in The Guardian regarding women on screen, ‘the portrayal of women — of their lives, their feelings, their sexuality and their bodies — is nearly always decided upon and filtered through male eyes.' Film and television are merely updated versions of how women have been presented and viewed for centuries.

The couple on the tarot card are not nude, therefore, but naked — merely without clothes — and this is down to their gazes. Denied the reciprocity of their gaze, the viewer cannot possess either the woman or the man in this picture, both of whom are fully self-determining. Their weight is evenly distributed; he's not forcing himself on her, and there is balance, harmony. Their gazes are mutually reciprocated on their own terms. This affects our way of seeing. They're not gazing back at us, aware of us seeing them. We are outsiders, not permitted to take part in the dynamic of the image. The spectator is not an agent of possession; that’s not the point of the image. The real point is a tarot one: what are we as viewers going to do to take responsibility for our own lives? There is nothing bad in this card, and there’s a lot to be said for an unselfconscious embracing of life, not being afraid to live it.

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