3 decades ago, when I was 14 years old, I was diagnosed with severe anxiety and depression, something that I still struggle with to various degrees even now. One night, in 1990, during a brief stay in the mental hospital in Martinez, CA, where I was being treated, I woke up in the middle of the night to a crippling panic attack. Afraid of waking my roommate (who was struggling with his own demons), I needed something quiet to focus on. I grabbed the napkin that was underneath my luke warm glass of lemonade along with the tiny pencil I had used to fill out my daily “How are you feeling?” survey. I don’t know why, but I just started scribbling. It seemed to be helping. So what if I was drawing a terrible rendition of a baseball beating himself up with his own bat for who-knows-why. It helped. Until the wind snuck in and blew the napkin out the window. The one thing that was helping had left. I had to follow it.

I snuck downstairs, hid from the receptionist, slipped through the main doors and left the campus. I ran around to the side of the building where my window was two stories above me, but my napkin was nowhere to be found. I started breathing heavier. I started crying and walked away from the hospital. No idea why or where I was going. I just needed to escape. I wandered into the surrounding woods so that I couldn’t be seen by any of the staff that might still be awake. Now hyperventilating, I meandered, barefoot, squishing wet dirt between my toes in hopes that SOMETHING would take my mind off of what I was feeling. Out of the corner of my eye I saw what I could only describe as a rabbit that looked like it was missing its front legs. It wobbled past me quickly, so I followed it, thinking maybe I could save it. It never even crossed my mind that it might not NEED or WANT my help. The truth is, I NEEDED it’s help. I needed SOMETHING. As I continued to follow it, I watched the cute limb-deficient creature hop over a bundle of twisted tree-roots, but I wasn’t as nimble. I slipped and fell stomach first into a brown, murky puddle. I looked up, wiped the splashed soot out of my eyes, which mixed with my tears, smearing around my eyes in what looked like fecal-death-metal makeup. I lost the rabbit. It was gone. That broke me. My cries turned to a voice-cracking weep, embarrassed even that a lurking squirrel might have seen my failure, laughing at me as I was draped in a thin gown, soaked in mud, scared of nothing that I could actually describe.I put my head back down and stared directly into the puddle. And I kept staring. Earlier that year I spent a good month teaching myself how to successfully “see” those computer-generated Magic-Eye posters that looked like Rainbow Brite made a quilt out of vomit. Yes, the same posters from the famous “Sailboat” scene from Mallrats. Anyway, I taught myself to look PAST the front layer of color and look IN-BETWEEN the colors. By doing this, shapes would emerge from between the layers and I could usually make out the correct hidden object in those posters within 5 seconds flat. It was less for bragging rights (I had no friends to brag to at the time) and more to train my brain how to focus. I thought staring into the puddle, past the top layer, focusing on what was in-between, would stop me from feeling scared. But it didn’t work. Exhausted, I closed my eyes and said the following poem that I made up on the spot.

“Shunderland, Shunderland, take me away,
To the place in-between where the Brightmares all play.”

It was at that moment that I felt the ground rumble. I felt the puddle splash, and I felt something squeeze me. I was too scared to open my eyes but whatever had its grip around me pulled me into the puddle. I felt the viscous water clog my nose. I tasted dirt. But somehow I felt….safe. My eyes remained closed. Then it was quiet. I opened my eyes. And the world around me looked just how I wanted it to, and popping out of the brightly-colored, squishy clouds that littered the ground was a slightly deformed kid with a baseball for a head, hitting himself over and over with a bat while he laughed maniacally. Even the bunny with no arms was there, staring at me. Then a friendly, albeit deep, voice, caused me to turn around, to which I was greeted by a giant, smiling hand, muddy water cascading down its fingers. “Welcome to Shunderland. We’ve been waiting for you.”

I don’t know how long I stayed in Shunderland that first night. Or was it day? No idea. All I know is that I woke up back in my hospital bed with the following note scribbled on the opposite side of the very same napkin that featured my baseball-man scribble:

When the world is too much and you need to escape,
If you feel like no one around can relate,
There’s a place that exists, underneath what is seen,
It’s a land that’s designed by you and your dreams.
Look into a mirror, or even a puddle,
It just has to reflect, no matter how subtle.
In order to go, you must open the entrance,
So stare at yourself and say the following sentence:
“Shunderland, Shunderland, take me away,
To the place in-between where the Brightmares all play.”
Then make sure you don’t skip the most crucial part,
Close both of your eyes and wait in the dark.
When the ferry arrives, it will give you a “hand”,
And carry you all the way to Shunderland.

Shunderland is a world that I created so that I could run away to when I needed to escape. My reasons for needing to escape varied. Sometimes it was the depression. Sometimes I was scared. Sometimes I was angry. A lot of the time, especially these days, it’s confusion. Sometimes I just wanted to make myself laugh. What this world looked like varied, too. Occasionally it was dark and demented, sometimes it was even violent, sometimes it was sarcastic, while sometimes it was bright, candy-filled and innocent. But it was always safe, and it was always welcoming to me, which is why I continued escaping there, and continued becoming closer friends with all of the Brightmares that lived in Shunderland. Well, not ALL of them. 

I am proud to finally announce that I have teamed up with SPOKE-ART to bring Shunderland to life in the form of a new solo pop-up art gallery show in Santa Monica, CA this December, called “ALEX IN SHUNDERLAND”! Although I have been working on this show for a while, due to safety protocols brought upon by COVID-19, the show will most likely be virtual, with limited (and safe) viewings, but more on that as we get closer to December. I have some fun stuff planned! Until then, I wanted you to be the first to hear about my biggest and most personal art show yet. I will be sharing the creative process going forward on Twitch, IG, YouTube and more, and I will even be asking for YOUR help participating in creating the show, as well. If you are interested in getting in on the preview-client list to get first dibs on the original art that will be for sale at the show, please email [email protected] and stay tuned for more details.

I’m very excited to invite you into the world that has made me feel better since I was a kid.