12 – The Hanged Man

Traditionally, The Hanged Man represents a pause: a moment of suspension in which forward motion is willingly set aside in order to gain clarity. It is associated with reversal, altered perspective, and the conscious surrender of momentum, ego, or certainty so that deeper understanding can emerge. Unlike cards that signal action or conflict, The Hanged Man asks for restraint. Nothing is being forced. Insight comes from stillness.

Despite this meaning, the historical imagery has always felt discordant to me. The figure is typically shown hanging by one foot, a pose that reads as punitive or coercive. I can find no convincing historical or mythological context in which such an act would be voluntary or enlightening. Hanging by the foot suggests captivity or torture, neither of which aligns with the card’s inward, contemplative nature. If the image was intended as an alternative to hanging by the neck—an association with death—it only shifts the problem rather than resolving it.

For my interpretation, I wanted the suspension to be unmistakably chosen. The pause represented by The Hanged Man is not something imposed from outside; it is an internal decision to stop, to invert one’s view, and to remain present long enough for understanding to change. To express this, I reimagined the figure as an aerialist.

An aerialist hangs upside down with strength, control, and intention. The inversion is deliberate. The body is suspended, but the will is fully engaged. This allowed the posture itself to communicate agency rather than helplessness. The straps are a tool, not a restraint, reinforcing that this is an act of discipline rather than endurance.

Costuming was an important part of making that idea legible. By dressing the figure in tights and leaving his chest bare, the visual language of performance is immediately established. The body reads as trained, strong and capable, and the suspension as purposeful. This is not a man trapped by circumstances, but one who has chosen to step outside of ordinary orientation in order to see differently.

The background presented a related challenge. I needed an environment in which suspension made physical sense—where depth and space were implied—without introducing danger. Fear of falling would distort the card’s meaning. I ultimately used a photograph I took at the annual winter light show at the Atlanta Botanical Garden. The lights create an otherworldly atmosphere, suggesting vastness without revealing the ground. The figure exists in a space of ambiguity rather than risk.

The lighting itself reinforces the card’s symbolism. The illumination near the figure’s head differs subtly from that at his feet, echoing the idea of inversion and altered awareness. What is usually “above” is not the same as what is “below.” Meaning shifts with orientation.

In this card, The Hanged Man is not about suffering or sacrifice for its own sake. It is about choosing stillness, relinquishing urgency, and allowing understanding to arrive from an unfamiliar angle. The suspension is temporary, but the insight gained from it endures.