Tag Archives: art

The Underland Review

The glitch won.
Normal content has been corrupted.
Issue One of The Underland Review: This Zine is a Lie is now live — 57 pages of poetry, prose, art, and soft monsters from the margins of the algorithm.
Pay what you want. Hold it in your hands. Or vanish into the archive.

The Catanic Verses VI (A Guide to Feline Religosophy)

“The wheels of betrayal turneth not, lest they be chicken-shaped and rolling toward revolution.”

In this week’s Catanic Verses, silence is sacred, meows are weaponised, and Poe rides a golden chicken straight into the centre of papal drama. Featuring velvet robes, suspicious eyebrows, and a firm reminder: speak less, flop more.

FAce-lIft Continuation XXII: Tracey Morberly

I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.

Poe ‘Vices

“He named himself after big cats? Leo Kings of the universes. Wooooah.”

This week, Poe responds to a panicked Traditionalist who fears the Pope has gone soft—and possibly woke. Enter: the velvet-draped feline theologian, riding a golden chicken straight through the Vatican. The Clucksmobile is real. And so is the chaos.

FAce-lIft Reflection

I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.

FAce-lIft Continuation XXI: RaFia Santana

I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.

Dispatches from the Void. V.II

Forgiveness is a process — especially if you’re a cat. This week, we navigate birthday dread, garden triumphs, and the slow but surreal shift toward our future in Thailand. There’s wine, weed wackers, and a temporary job at (possibly fictional) Amazon. Honourable mentions were won. Sausages were offered. Love, as ever, persists.

The Catdiva Monologues Volume VII: Return of the Rogit, Rise of the Miserable Sun. Descent.

He rubs their faces like some simpering little orphan in a Dickensian melodrama. ‘Oh please, Mother, can I have some more…’ Why I—I could—”

This week, betrayal comes in paw form. Mowgli’s stolen tactics, Rogit’s soggy flirtations, and the unspeakable horror of a brush to the face push Akela Jean Underland to the edge (of the basin). Volume VI: Pawprints of Betrayal, Bristles of War is live now.

FAce-lIft Continuation XXI: Claudia Andujar

I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.