Through the donut hole
Scrolling down Twitter - the happiest doomscrolling of them all, reading so many heartwarming anecdotes, nothing but tributes in the biggest of small shapes, i need to pay my little respect to this man too. I think, as i am trying to put into words this entry, i really do think David Lynch was a one of a kind teacher, not in the academic sense of professing but a figure, circling around the fire he created because we all know that fire is a noble thing, a foreteller of a sort who found the most sincere in the most convoluted of ways to share visions, but don't be fooled, things are so much simpler. Actually noone should be allowed to share his interpretations on things he did and said, movies he directed, paths he marched on, we should store them in a keepsake that we'd consult whenever we are in a dark place to find that bright, shining lightbulb called love. This was his biggest contribution, to follow our own shadow until it finds a door. I cannot say that i know his life nor his filmography but i never considered myself an idiot as to know why i felt his fiction the way i did. How darkness and coffee live together in the same timeframe. Fortunately as i hate coffee, i always felt closer to the coca-cola side of things.
As i grow older, i know why i cherish this man's work and its legacy and its muses, how pain is the happiest form of happiness even though it takes an entire universe to ignite anything from it, believe me i know. I just know. You all do.
I was sad to miss Lynch's exhibition at la Fondation Cartier - dumbing myself down in Munich. When i came back, i heard of a small exhibition of his lithography works in the first floor of the big store le Printemps. They were mostly industrial landscapes. And here it was, the big mofo coffee table book (ugh, again coffee) of the exhibition i missed. I contemplated purchasing it for several minutes. Big paintings, small-scaled photographs, texts, screenshots of his short movies (Catherine Coulson, the mother you were). David Lynch is my first artbook. But this is not a place for symbolism.
David Lynch has decoded most of the the things that i love in fiction and more, in such profound humanity, as to why i love Satoshi Kon, why connecting dots with LOST, how Endeavour's finale is one of the most sincere endings in recent years, why i call it dramatic music and why hysteria is refined sanity. He alone saw how hope tunnels its way out through the donut hole beyond the cries and the dramaturgy of life, always finding a place to nest. And he showed it literally in most of his movies. But its time to celebrate and i just ate burgers for lunch.
It's rare enough to say it but i'm actually quite proud of this text. The text only, i wouldn't dare to say my tribute was a score.
