A breath of style
You begin in silence. Name a palette — perhaps bone, indigo, and spilled gold. Call an art direction — art-nouveau nocturne, bioluminescent, stained-glass rot. If you have a reference image you return to often, pin it. These choices become the deck's unwavering voice, repeated over the shoulder of every card you summon from here.
The studio is rigid about physical form — vertical cards, 2:3, a field left at the top for the title and at the bottom for a numeral. It is permissive about everything else. You may pick an established preset (Rider-Waite-Smith, Marseille, Thoth, Nouveau) as a jumping-off point or invent a voice that has never belonged to a tarot before.
The summoning
Twenty-two for the Major Arcana, or all seventy-eight if your practice calls for them. For each card, the studio reads your style and proposes an image. You approve, refine by writing back, or summon again. Write meanings — upright and, if you read them, reversed — that are honest to your practice.
A trial by family
Before you commit to the ink, lay the whole deck out. See the family resemblance. The palette catches from card to card; the gestures echo; the border feels the same under the thumb. Any card that does not belong to the family, send back; the style is locked so its siblings will bring it home.
The crossing
Name a quantity — one for yourself, a small run for your circle, a larger run to offer into the world. We request a quote; when you accept, we coordinate with a printing partner. You are told when the press receives it, when it is bound, when it ships, and when it arrives. Nothing about the process is hidden.
In your hands
The box opens. The first shuffle. A card falls. The deck now has a life outside of you — let it tell you the things you did not know it would say.