The Resurrectionist Oracle

Published in

Self-published and sold in a limited run (c. 100 copies)

Year

2021

This oracle deck was conceptualised, written, designed, and distributed as a collaboration with Polish artist Charlie Ronewicz. I organised, planned, and wrote the cards and guidebook, while Charlie provided the designs.

Find more of Charlie's art at https://ronewicz.art

Below are a few examples of the 31 cards and written guidebook entries we created for this project

I Set Fire to the Person I Was
.smoke rings. – frnkiero andthe cellabration

Stomachaches

Rebirth. Beginning. Letting Go.

You are not a phoenix, rising from your own ashes. You set yourself alight to cleanse your bones, to boil the blood in your veins until it no longer tastes like you. This transformation is not a cycle; it is a violent end and an uncertain beginning

Past

This is not the first transformation you have entered. Consider all of the lives you have lived before this one – who were you? Why did you die? People fall easily into the habit of modifying themselves to fit others’ ideals: this is not that. Mourn your past lives, if you must, but do not bring their mistakes with you into this new phase

Present
What lies buried in the glowing embers beneath your feet? As flames roar and bite at your skin, consider why you are stripping yourself bare. Are you a sharpened weapon, forged in blood and fire – or is this a sacrifice?

Future
Smoke rises from your glowing form, coalescing into delicate rings above your head, like a halo of ash. Feel the collective shudder of breath as the spectators choke on the heavy plumes. You reside in the base of their throat, whether you want to or not. Pay no mind to their gasps for air – focus on the light glimmering from under your fingertips

What A Dark Mess Of Chemicals We Have Become

From My Head to My Middle Finger, I Really Think I Like You

Addiction. Desperate. Sacrifice.

You are skin and bones, nothing more. Your blood is not wine, and yet you allow yourself to be drained. What consumes you? When was the last time you felt whole?

Past

It is one thing to give your life for a worthy cause — it is something entirely different to offer it on a plate when nobody has asked you to. Of those for whom you would cut off a pound of your own flesh, how much of them do you own?

Present

Your reflection becomes less your own, cheeks sallow as you draw your own life force out to be consumed. For how long do you believe you will live on within those who would swallow you whole? Do you think they will think of you when the lights in your eyes go dim?

Future

Where is the point of no return? Can you see it ahead, or is it in your rear-view mirror? The wound of breaking a habit is not always a clean cut, but even the jagged edges point forwards towards progress. Taken in small doses, you can become immune to poison. How much is in your smallest dose?

Love Is Blind, Took Both My Eyes
Medicine Square Garden — Frank Iero and the Future Violents
Barriers

Avoidance. Denial. Blinded.

Faint pools of light bleed in from under the cloth draped across your face. You roll your eyes up habitually, blocking out even this small line of light as it singes your eyelashes

Past

You have lain victim to the rough treatment of the real world, taking on each blow without so much as a weapon with which to protect yourself. It has proven to be far easier to close your eyes and lean into the grasping clutch of cruelty, than to spend your wavering energy fighting a losing battle

Present

Like a child, you wrap yourself in the fallacy that if you cannot see it, it will not hurt you. This idea is problematic, mainly because you can see it; you see the danger swathed in red like it’s seared across your eyes. Blindfold yourself, and suddenly it is quiet. Your head still rests in the lion’s jaws, but in the darkness it becomes easier to fool yourself into thinking it won’t hurt when she clamps down on your neck

Future

Ignorance has never been bliss — it has been escapism. Signs break through the ground to obstruct your path, and you side-step them easily, feeling the way through the dark with your fingertips. In the distance, clawed hands wait to tear the blindfold from your face, exposing your weakened eyes to the red-tinged sun. When the darkness is no longer an option, where will you cast your gaze?