Tribute to David Lynch

Last night, thinking about David Lynch and his films, I was trying to remember when I saw each one. However, my mind kept churning into what I call a “cream of memory soup,” the dates, chronologies, and places merged. I couldn’t recall when I first saw Eraserhead. I think it was a few years after its release, possibly at a theatre in Ann Arbor, my hometown. The imagery in the film and the emotions it evoked, however, were unforgettable. The droning sound effects, ugly, depressing Industrial-setting, and brooding, grotesque imagery had a visceral effect on me. The film made me feel as I were wandering through the burnt-out remains of a nuclear disaster (such as the ones I had seen in a documentary on Hiroshima) or some other apocalyptic aftermath. The Lady in the Radiator with her puffy, tumor-like, pustule-filled cheeks, the mutant, mewling, sausage-shaped baby, and the hurdy-gurdy organ music by Fats Waller reminded me of being at a filthy, vermin-infested carnival show. Like Henry in the film, I seemed to be a voyeur walking aimlessly through one dismal, nauseating scene to another,. The dinner scene evoked especially strong emotions, triggering my fear and revulsion concerning unfamiliar foods. (In fact, one of my most vivid dreams, later to be included in my novels, involved a monstrous dinner scene in which the entrée foreshadowed a character’s death. )

Despite the horror of the scenes and the distressing feelings they stirred in me, I loved the film because, more than any movie I had seen, it mirrored my most intense fears and revulsions. I loved that the film was subjective, focused on Henry’s perceptions and reactions . It instilled a sense of claustrophobia, as if we were trapped within Henry’s mind just as the Lady in the Radiator was trapped inside her blistering furnace. Seeing Lynch’s approach to filmmaking inspired me to use my own traumas as fodder for my writing.

My favorite writers, artists, and filmmakers, such as Lynch, are subjective, more concerned with emotions, dreams, obsessions, hallucinations than with so-called “objective” reality. Although some later Lynch films contain slightly more linear plots, Lynch’s inspiration comes from within himself even when adopting a novel or screenplay from another source.

Lynch’s authenticity, his faith and reliance on his own intuition rather than marketing his work to an audience is one of the reasons David Lynch is so inspiring to me. As a writer, I, seek to be true to my vision, to write from my soul, my passion instead of focusing on genre constraints or popular trends. In some cases this has probably diminished the marketability of my novels because I used covers inspired by my own experiences and dreams, even including some of my own modified photos. My characters are my personal archetypes birthed from my fantasies and nightmares. I need to write to express my deepest, often most troubling emotions. I cannot force myself to write when the ideas and feelings aren’t there.

David Lynch was fortunate to become successful without sacrificing his integrity. Most creatives probably can’t do that, and, if they do, they may die in obscurity, such as Kafka did.

I am very thankful for David Lynch’s inspiration and hope his films will encourage others to bring their dreams and invigorating nightmares to fruition.

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Writings by Alison Armstrong