With Apologies To Two Famous Switzers

Tunnel slides

are a common sight in Seoul.  Korean toddlers enjoy them in apartment complex playgrounds just like their American counterparts do at McDonald's.

Every time I pass by one of these, though, I cannot help but recall to mind the art of H.R. Giger, the Swiss artist who revolutionized the face of horror science fiction by designing the monster in the movie Alien back in 1979.  He is famous for the unique style of his paintings, which manage to combine the grotesque yet somehow sleek and erotic, with quasi-mechanical imagery.  While I know absolutely nothing about his private life and proclivities, it seems to me that Giger must have been at least somewhat familiar with the theories of his countryman C.G. Jung, the great Swiss psychologist who popularized, among other things, the concept of the Shadow, the repressed negative aspects of the mind that are largely locked away in the unconscious and that Jung believed needed to be recognized and integrated in order to round out a mature personality.  I believe Giger was well aware of the basic principles of the Shadow -- but of course, Giger the Artist loaded a whole lot of other baggage onto that framework to work out his visual œuvre, such as Freudian sexuality, vagina dentata, the Devouring Mother, rotting babies, and just plain pervy obsession with body parts.

But anyway, what strikes me visually about the tunnel slides is that dark opening/exit that looks disturbingly like a wide-open mouth (good thing the one pictured here is blue, but I have seen RED ones).  Which tends to remind one (me, that is) of other bodily orifices as well as sexuality in general, whose literal and figurative depictions abound in Giger's art (and that's an understatement);  it was easy enough for me to find a particularly apt sample online.

And of course, I couldn't resist the impulse to manipulate my slide photo to "Giger-ify" it (naturally).  I rather like the result -- in fact, I'm proud to note that for a brief moment I actually mistook its thumbnail for one of Giger's own.  Think of it as a droll but earnest tribute to the master from one of his fans.

Related post:  The Wrinkle-Lipped Serpent

I Once Read

in a book whose title I've long since forgotten that old-time lore passed down among lumberjacks in the logging camps of North America included tall tales of a weird creature known, rather literally, as the "Staybehind".  That's exactly what it did -- pick some logger or traveler caught out alone in the woods, get right up behind him and stay with him.  If the unfortunate fellow happened to hear its footsteps or somehow sense it and whirled around to confront it, no matter how fast he turned it was always faster than he was and managed to stay behind him always.  But even though the victim could not see it, he knew the creature was there, he could feel its presence right behind him, and could not escape it no matter how fast he ran.  Naturally, no one could tell you what it actually looked like so there was no visual depiction that I could find.  And I don't remember what else, if anything, the Staybehind did.  Could be, it simply followed a victim around in the woods without actually doing anything else by way of physical harm, but simply aroused fear and anxiety by its very presence.  But on the other hand, perhaps it whispered knowingly in his ear, too, or maybe it touched him softly -- or perhaps not so softly -- in sensitive places, until, perhaps it did perpetrate the unspeakable.  And of course, during his torment the victim, not being able to see the creature, would conjure up all kinds of horrible apparitions in his imagination.  The creature was most likely a crystallization of the vague but very real discomfort one is apt to feel when alone in the wilderness, especially in a densely wooded place with all its unseen potential dangers.

Seeing this photo in my Facebook memories reminded me of an incident from my own life from years ago.  (Here beginneth a yarn) There was a period in my past when, for quite some time, I could not shake the feeling that I was being followed and watched everywhere by someone -- or some thing.  I finally got the bright idea -- way too obvious in hindsight -- to check out my shadow.  And sure enough, to my shock -- and simultaneous good fortune -- I was able to capture my own analogue of the Staybehind in this photograph.  And... it turned out to be a giant floating amoeba.  A giant floating freaking amoeba.  Yes, I did freak when I first saw it:  God only knows where it came from or when and how it glommed on to me, but you know what, the good thing is it also turns out that once you learn the identity of your stalker they lose their power over you, to my huge relief.  The amoeba accordingly removed itself from my life instanter, and I have not been bothered by it since.  Whaddayaknow!

This memory reminded me of "The Old Man of the Sea" episode from the tales of Sinbad the Sailor.  The unrelenting, unshakable closeness of the monstrous Old Man (who glommed onto Sinbad, literally, and could not be shaken off) certainly is redolent of the nature of the Staybehind.  And I was also reminded of another monstrous being featured in a movie I saw a few years ago, titled It Follows;  it was all about a mysterious, murderous supernatural creature which was invisible to everyone but its victims, but to its chosen victim it appeared in human guise -- usually of some grotesque or scary aspect -- as it followed him/her relentlessly, tirelessly, at a steady walking pace, until it finally caught up to them and killed them.  Then it proceeded to follow the last person the victim had had sex with, and so on all way back up the chain.  The movie was clearly low-budget, but it was well made and well acted.  And there was no attempt at all to explain away the monster, which was wise;  a clumsy, made-up origin story probably would only have sounded clunky and fake.