In Alpha State, Von Zeipel has imagined her own dreamy installation of knotted images—of past and future, paradise and reality—that form an undersea nightclub where sleep and wakefulness blend into amalgamated people and objects, all of it rushing together in a brackish water of “wild and constant” things. Who knows why it exists?

The new works are situated in an AREA (the legendary New York nightclub of the 1980s) of dreams, complete with an ATM—penetrated by a raver emerging from its form, its sign revised to suggest ass 2 mouth—and the other necessary décor and figures of the hallucinatory space of booze, drugs, and dancing, including a full-length mirror set within a cresting wave; usable chairs composed of butch lesbians in drop-crotch trousers and puffy jackets; and a thin bartender serving a kind of magic tonic, his frame fused into a wall back ended by a flowing toilet. Corals and hearts protrude and proliferate across this aquatic dream-space at full fathom five. And like the creatures that linger at the reefs, each object is imbued with “something rich and strange,” where the normal boundaries between body or object blur in the water Von Zeipel has drawn for her new work.