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Undertaker & Underselves: A Surrealist Excavation
What is a signal, and how deeply does it ring? Nobody is supposed to hear a peep from the oubliette, and yet we somehow perceive a low growl, an infectious density that pulls our air-adapted minds well below our accustomed chaos. Above ground, walls and obstacles hem us in from every side. Surficial catastrophe lights up at the slightest breeze, and darkness loses its prerogative. The time has come to tunnel down; to see how deep the “rising sign” really goes. We come to find that there is no luxury greater than the cavernous movie palace beneath the street as it projects the hidden desires of the world above.
Meet the Underselves!
It’s a carnival in the underworld, where moles and monsters alike build unfathomable sideshows, and where cicadas dwell dreaming for decades about their single orgiastic scream like a carny barker inviting us to gaze upon the freakshow of our own subconscious. An octopus, with subterranean galleries representing octopodian arms—far more than eight—intertwining into unfathomable rat kings that keep on unfolding on themselves. Even the Underself can’t be more than a membrane, a seismic organ.