Since we're on the subject of maps, the mayor’s map of New York City’s Immigrant Enclaves began arriving in my inbox from friends and family, accompanied by messages expressing outrage and concern. At first, I couldn’t understand what the problem was.
Everything seemed perfectly ordinary to me. After all, New York City is filled with immigrants from every corner of the world. These communities exist, and mapping them hardly struck me as controversial. In fact, one rarely meets a native-born New Yorker these days, and when you do, the conversation often turns to how dramatically the city has changed over the past twenty-five years or so.
What puzzled many people was the omission of Little Italy. Yet when I first looked at the map, I hardly noticed. I no longer instinctively think of Italians as an immigrant community—nor, for that matter, the other supposedly slighted groups, the Irish, Greeks, and Jews. We have been part of the fabric of New York for generations. I can't speak for the others, but compared with the newer arrivals represented on the map, immigration from Italy is relatively modest today.
If the omission was deliberate, I suspect it had less to do with demographics than politics. Modern identity politics encourages politicians to divide citizens into competing constituencies rather than govern on behalf of everyone. If a community is perceived as politically insignificant or outside a politician’s electoral coalition, it is easily ignored. Whether that was the case here, I cannot say with certainty.
Ironically, if anyone was truly snubbed, it was the corn-bred transplants who voted for the mayor. Despite arriving in impressive numbers over the past decade, they somehow failed to receive an enclave of their own. Where's Little Wisconsin?
Even so, I find it difficult to summon much outrage over this map. There are far more serious problems confronting New Yorkers than whether Little Italy appears on a city graphic. Crime, crushing taxes, declining quality of life, and the steady transformation of neighborhoods concern me infinitely more than a promotional map highlighting enclaves that many lifelong New Yorkers have never even heard of.
The broader reality is that the old ethnic neighborhoods that once defined New York City have largely disappeared. Italian enclaves, in particular, have been shrinking for decades. Those that remain are little more than tourist districts filled with souvenir shops and restaurants rather than the vibrant communities they once were. That is a far greater loss than being omitted from an infographic.
As I write this, I understand the mayor intends to revise the map after complaints from Italian Americans. If so, that is perfectly fine. Little Italy certainly deserves recognition for its historical importance.
But being added to a city map is a symbolic victory at best. It will not restore disappearing neighborhoods, revive the institutions that sustained them, or reverse the forces that have transformed New York. In the end, it changes very little.
The real story was never the map. It was the city that made such a map possible.
~ By Giovanni di Napoli, July 11th, Feast of St. Oliver Plunket
July 12, 2026
Europe of a Hundred Flags
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| A heraldic vision of Europe I found online |
Yesterday, we touched on the idea of Europe through the lens of Christendom—the shared spiritual and civilizational framework that helped shape the continent. As a natural continuation of that discussion, it is worth considering Europe of a Hundred Flags. Rather than viewing Europe primarily through the borders of modern nation-states, this vision sees the continent as a mosaic of historic peoples and regions: Basques, Bretons, Corsicans, Flemings, Neapolitans, Scots, Sicilians, Venetians, and many others, each with its own distinct histories, customs, and identities.
Yet these differences did not prevent Europe from developing a common civilization. Historically, the continent’s unity was not built upon uniformity but upon a shared spiritual and cultural foundation: Christendom. A Breton could remain Breton, a Sicilian could remain Sicilian, and a Venetian could remain Venetian, while still belonging to a broader Christian civilization that transcended regional and political boundaries.
As a son of Southern Italy, this perspective resonates with me. The Mezzogiorno possesses a history and character that cannot be reduced to administrative lines on a map. The same is true of many regions across Europe. Their identities were formed over centuries through shared memory, local tradition, and historical experience, long before the emergence of the modern nation-state.
My own understanding is that the Europe of a Hundred Flags and the Europe of Christendom are not opposing visions, but complementary ones. The first reminds us of Europe’s remarkable diversity; the second explains the civilizational framework that once united it. Together, they offer a vision of Europe as a family of distinct peoples sharing a common inheritance.
~ By Giovanni di Napoli, July 10th, Feast of Santa Rufina and Santa Seconda
July 11, 2026
Europe Through the Lens of Christendom
Next: Europe of a Hundred Flags
I recently came across this thought-provoking map captioned, “This is how I divide Europe,” and I was struck by how closely it aligns with my own fundamental understanding of the continent’s historic ethnic landscape—though not without a few adjustments.
In my view, southern France and Corsica belong firmly within the broader European, Mediterranean, and Latin world rather than being separated from it. I also agree that the Hungarians occupy a category all their own, though I have always referred to them as Magyar rather than Aryan—Turanian when I want to impress the ladies.
What struck me most, however, was not the map’s divisions but the deeper thread connecting them. Maps of ethnicity can tell us much about Europe’s diversity, but they often obscure the civilizational framework within which those peoples developed.
Whether Latin, Germanic, Celtic, Slavic, Greek, Magyar, or Nordic, Europe’s peoples largely developed within the common civilizational framework of Christendom. While ethnic and regional differences were real, they existed within a broader religious and cultural inheritance that gave Europe much of its historical character.
Looking at maps such as this one, I see less a collection of competing ethnic groups and more the many branches of a civilization that, despite its diversity, once understood itself as part of a greater whole. The presence of historic Islamic communities in parts of the Balkans does not alter the fact that Christianity was the principal force that shaped Europe’s civilizational character.
Europe’s story is therefore one of many peoples and one civilization.
~ By Giovanni di Napoli, July 10th, Feast of Santa Rufina and Santa Seconda
I recently came across this thought-provoking map captioned, “This is how I divide Europe,” and I was struck by how closely it aligns with my own fundamental understanding of the continent’s historic ethnic landscape—though not without a few adjustments.
In my view, southern France and Corsica belong firmly within the broader European, Mediterranean, and Latin world rather than being separated from it. I also agree that the Hungarians occupy a category all their own, though I have always referred to them as Magyar rather than Aryan—Turanian when I want to impress the ladies.
What struck me most, however, was not the map’s divisions but the deeper thread connecting them. Maps of ethnicity can tell us much about Europe’s diversity, but they often obscure the civilizational framework within which those peoples developed.
Whether Latin, Germanic, Celtic, Slavic, Greek, Magyar, or Nordic, Europe’s peoples largely developed within the common civilizational framework of Christendom. While ethnic and regional differences were real, they existed within a broader religious and cultural inheritance that gave Europe much of its historical character.
Looking at maps such as this one, I see less a collection of competing ethnic groups and more the many branches of a civilization that, despite its diversity, once understood itself as part of a greater whole. The presence of historic Islamic communities in parts of the Balkans does not alter the fact that Christianity was the principal force that shaped Europe’s civilizational character.
Europe’s story is therefore one of many peoples and one civilization.
~ By Giovanni di Napoli, July 10th, Feast of Santa Rufina and Santa Seconda
July 10, 2026
Treasures from the Morgan’s Collections
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| The Saint of Bleecker Street Autograph manuscript, 1954, Gian Carlo Menotti (1911-2007) |
The Collections Spotlight, Summer 2026 exhibition offered a reminder of the extraordinary breadth of the Morgan’s holdings. Among the many highlights were a document signed by Queen Maria I of Portugal, a manuscript notebook of Henry David Thoreau, a 1483 edition of Ulrich von Richental’s Das Concilium bůch geschehen zů Costencz, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s Zur Farbenlehre (On the Theory of Colors), and Gian Carlo Menotti’s autograph manuscript for The Saint of Bleecker Street, an opera rooted in the faith and traditions of New York’s Little Italy. Few museums bring together such a remarkable cross-section of European history, literature, music, and art under one roof.
~ By Giovanni di Napoli
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| Book of Hours, in Latin, begun by Georges Trubert and the Master of the della Rovere Missals, completed by a follower of Jean Bourdichon France, Avignon, ca. 1485-90 |
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| Das Concilium buch geschehen zu Costencz, Augsburg: Anton Sorg, September 2, 1483, Ulrich von Richental (ca. 1365-1437[?]) |
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| On the Course of the Heavens and the Stars, in German, attributed to Caspar Engelsüss and Michael Scot Germany, Rhineland, second half of the fifteenth century |
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| Life of St. Benedict, in Italian, Italy, Padua or Bergamo, ca. 1450 |
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| Zur Farbenlehre (On the theory of colors) Tübingen: In der J. G. Cotta'schen buchhandlung, 1810, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832) |
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| Manuscript notebook, Cambridge and Concord, ca. February-October 1852, Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862) |
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| (L) Running Eros, Holding a Torch, Bronze, Italy, Boscoreale, second or first century B.C. (R) Life mask of George Washington, 1785, plaster, Jean-Antoine Houdon (1741-1828) |
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| A peek into the West Room Vault |
July 9, 2026
Luminous Color at the Morgan
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| Sky Study, ca. 1850, oil on paper, Carl Maria Nicolaus Hummel |
~ By Giovanni di Napoli
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| View of Ischia from the Sea, 1842, oil on paper, mounted to canvas, Jean-Charles-Joseph Rémond |
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| Moonlit Harbor in Southern Italy, 1833-35, oil on paper, mounted to Masonite, Thomas Fearnley |
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| Moonlit View of the River Elbe at Dresden, 1826, oil on paper, mounted to paper-covered wood panel, Johan Christian Dahl |
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| Ischia and the Bay of Naples by Moonlight, ca. 1800, oil on paper, Circle of Pierre Henri de Valenciennes |
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| Garden of the Villa Medici, Rome, ca. 1845-70, oil on paper, Jean-Achille Benouville |
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| View of Rome with Ruined Church, ca. 1825-35, oil on paper, mounted on canvas, Franz Ludwig Catel |
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| Landscape at Sunset, ca. 1830, oil on paper, mounted to canvas, Carl Gustav Carus |
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| Cloud Study, 1828, oil on paper, mounted to cardboard, Johan Christian Dahl |
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| Sunset on the Normandy Coast, ca. 1850, oil on paper, mounted to canvas, Eugène Isabey |
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| Jungfrau, Mönch, and Eiger, ca. 1851, oil on paper, mounted to cardboard, Carl Morgenstern |
July 8, 2026
The Reimagining of the Tarot (Part II)
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| Rosenwald Tarot, Italy, Florence, ca. 1500, woodcut on laid paper, unidentified artist |
Over the centuries, what began as an elegant Italian card game gradually became intertwined with mysticism, esotericism, fortune-telling, and the occult, inspiring generations of artists, writers, and filmmakers. Among the later works that particularly caught my attention were those associated with Austin Osman Spare and Aleister Crowley. Despite my personal antipathy toward these particular figures, for reasons beyond a difference of faith, their influence helped shape the tarot’s modern esoteric tradition.
The exhibition traces this transformation through paintings, prints, and popular culture, illustrating how a Renaissance creation evolved into one of the most recognizable symbolic systems of the modern world.
Although I remain most interested in the Renaissance origins of tarot and the reflections found in Meditations on the Tarot, it was fascinating to see how later generations continually reinvented its imagery.
~ By Giovanni di Napoli
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| Rosenwald Tarot, Italy, Florence, ca. 1500, woodcut on laid paper, unidentified artist |
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| (L-R) Death, The Hanged Man, and The Fool, Rider-Waite-Smith Tarot (Deck "C"), London: William Rider & Son, ca, 1921-31, Pamela Colman Smith (1878-1951) and Arthur Edward Waite (1857-1942) |
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| (L-R) The Devil, The Lovers, and The World, Rider-Waite-Smith Tarot (Deck "C"), London: William Rider & Son, ca, 1921-31, Pamela Colman Smith (1878-1951) and Arthur Edward Waite (1857-1942) |
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| Two Dogs Howling at the Moon, 1961, graphite, gouache, and watercolor on paper, Leonora Carrington (1917-2011) |
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| Surrealist Racing Forecast Cards, 1936, privately published by Austin Osman Spare (1886-1956) |
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| Tarot Deck, ca. 1906, ink and watercolor on paper and Obeah Cards, ca. 1930, ink and crayon on cardstock, Austin Osman Spare (1886-1956) |
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| Tarot Deck, ca. 1906, ink and watercolor on paper, Austin Osman Spare (1886-1956) |
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| Tarot Deck, ca. 1906, ink and watercolor on paper, Austin Osman Spare (1886-1956) |
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| (L-R) Sketch for "The Magus," n.d., graphite on paper, and sketch for "Adjustment," n.d., ink and graphite on paper, Aleister Crowley (1875-1947) and Lady Frieda Harris (1877-1962) |
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| (L-R) Death, The Magus, and Knight of Wands. Drawings for the Thoth Tarot, 1938-43, watercolor on paper with hand-painted mats, Aleister Crowley (1875-1947) and Lady Frieda Harris (1877-1962) |
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| (L-R) The Moon, Three of Disks, and The Chariot. Drawings for the Thoth Tarot, 1938-43, watercolor on paper with hand-painted mats, Aleister Crowley (1875-1947) and Lady Frieda Harris (1877-1962) |
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| Thoth Tarot Card Deck / Ordo Templi Orientis, White Box "B," St. Paul, MN: Llewellyn Publications, (1973(?)], Aleister Crowley (1875-1947) and Lady Frieda Harris (1877-1962) |
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| (L-R) The Lovers, The Magician, The World, Tarot Universal Dalí, Spain: Naipes Comas, 1984, Salvador Dali (1904-1989) |
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| Devil and Fool, 1948 Oil on canvas, Kurt Seligmann (1900-1962) |
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| The Book of Thoth, London: Urdo lempli Orientis/Chiswick Press, 1944, Aleister Crowley (1875-1947) |
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| Translated by Arthur Edward Waite (1857-1942), The History of Magic, London: Rider & Co, Paternoster House, E.C., mid-twentieth century], Eliphas Lévi (Alphonse Louis Constant, 1810-1875) |
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| (L-R) Untitled, n.d., watercolor and ink on paper; Sketch for Glass, 1908, watercolor and ink on paper; Time, n.d., watercolor and graphite on paperboard, Pamela Colman Smith (1878-1951) |
The Renaissance Origins of the Tarot (Part I)
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| Thoth Recording the Judgment of a Deceased Man's Soul, Book of the Dead, papyrus, unidentified artist |
I recently visited the Morgan Library & Museum to see Tarot! Renaissance Symbols, Modern Visions (June 26 through October 4, 2026), an exhibition exploring the remarkable journey of the tarot from the princely courts of Renaissance Italy to its enduring place in modern art and popular culture. For someone who has long been fascinated by the imagery of tarot cards and has collected tarot decks over the years, it was an exhibition I could not miss.
The show begins in fifteenth-century northern Italy, where beautifully illuminated tarot decks were first created as luxury playing cards for noble families rather than as instruments of fortune-telling. Many scholars believe the imagery of these early decks drew inspiration from Francesco Petrarca's allegorical poem Triumphs, whose procession of symbolic figures was enormously influential during the Renaissance. Seeing the celebrated Visconti-Sforza Tarot cards reunited was a rare opportunity to appreciate them not as occult curiosities but as masterpieces of Renaissance craftsmanship, rich with Christian, classical, and courtly symbolism.
I first encountered tarot through popular culture rather than history. In my younger years, I dated several women who regularly read the cards, and I found the symbolism endlessly intriguing. The archetypal figures, mysterious imagery, and artistic traditions surrounding these decks possessed an undeniable imaginative appeal.
As a Catholic, however, my interest remains primarily artistic, historical, and symbolic. My understanding of tarot was later influenced by the writings of Valentin Tomberg, whose much-debated Meditations on the Tarot approaches the Major Arcana not as instruments of fortune-telling but as contemplative meditations upon Christian spirituality and the inner life. Tomberg’s work offers a perspective very different from the fortune-telling commonly associated with tarot today.
Whatever its later associations, I left the exhibition with a renewed appreciation for the artistic genius and cultural imagination that first gave tarot its enduring form.
~ By Giovanni di Napoli
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| Personification of Death and Christ Raising Lazarus "Farnese Hours," in Latin Italy, Rome, 1546, Giulio Clovio (1498-1578) |
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| Palm-reading diagrams, The Art of Chiromancy (Die Kunst Chiromantia), Augsburg: Jörg Schapf, ca. 1475, unidentified artist |
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| (L-R) Queen of Swords, Fortitude, and Female Knight of Swords, Visconti di Modrone Tarot, Italy, Lombardy, ca. 1441-42, tempera and gold leaf on pasteboard, Andrea Bembo (act. 1431-1469) |
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| A King and Queen Playing Chess, Dirc van Delf, Table of Christian Faith (Tafel van den Kersten ghelave) in Dutch, Netherlands, perhaps Utrecht, ca. 1405-10, unidentified artist |
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| St. Catherine of Alexandria, prayer book, in Latin, Italy, Milan, ca. 1410-20, Michelino da Besozzo (act. 1388-1450) |
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| The Planet Jupiter in Domicile and Detriment, Abū Maʿshar, Introduction to Astrology (Liber astrologiae), in Latin, Flanders, Bruges, ca. 1403, unidentified artist |
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| Emperor Tiberius, Suetonius, Lives of the Emperors, in Latin, Italy, Milan, 1433, Master of the Vitae Imperatorum |
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| The Chess Players, Italy, Siena, ca. 1475, tempera on panel, Liberale da Verona (ca. 1445-1529) |
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| Devil, Dante Alighieri, Divine Comedy (Divina commedia), in Italian, Italy, Florence, ca. 1345-55, unidentified artist |
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| Zodiac diagram, Johannes de Sacrobosco, On the Sphere of the World (De sphaera), in German, Austria, ca. 1425, unidentified artist |
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| (L-R) Astrology (Astrologia), Music (Musicha), Saturn (Saturno),"Mantegna Tarot," Northern Italy, Ferrara or Venice, ca. 1462-67 - Engravings, Master of the E-Series Tarocchi (Lazzaro Bastiani[?]) |
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| Three water-birds and a falcon, from a model book, Italy, ca. 1425-50, pen and brown ink and wash, over black chalk, on paper, Workshop of Pisanello (ca. 1395-1455) |
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| Game box, France or Netherlands, fifteenth-sixteenth century, bone, gilding, and paint over a wooden core, unidentified artist |
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| Coffer, Italy, Siena(?), early fifteenth century, poplar with gilded and painted gesso and pastiglia decoration |
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