On January 15, my social media feeds were flooded with the news of David Lynch’s passing. It would be dishonest to say I hadn’t been in disbelief. As I continued scrolling, reading the heartfelt words of his fans, supporters, and collaborators, I finally realized the reality of the situation: David Lynch is no longer with us.

I first discovered Lynch’s work as a teen, nearly two decades ago, when I stumbled upon his film Eraserhead among lists with titles like “The 10 Most Disturbing Films” or “Movies Not to Watch on Date Night.” Between the surrealistic scene descriptions and screenshots of the woman in the radiator, I found myself completely engrossed in a type of film I’d never imagined. Breaking the rules of those articles, I did end up watching the movie on a date. Needless to say, there wasn’t a second. Regardless, I continued my relationship with Lynch’s work, consuming anything I could find with his name on it.

The David Lynch catalog is not a sprawling effort—it consists of only 14 titles if you separate the three seasons of Twin Peaks. However, these efforts span science fiction, drama, horror, and comedy. From Dune (1984) to The Straight Story (1999), his work aims to do one thing and one thing only: express an emotion that Lynch was feeling. This may seem like a minor point, but it sets him apart from most artists in a particular way. Most art is meant to evoke a response or provoke a thought from its viewer, and it’s undeniable that his films do just that, but it’s not the focus. This is clear when you watch movies like Mulholland Dr or Blue Velvet, which deal with intensely personal emotional states explored through surrealistic imagery and transcendental concepts.

Now, I am preparing for my annual rewatch of Twin Peaks, beginning with Fire Walk With Me and ending with The Return, but I can’t help but feel a deeper sadness for the series finale. If you’ve not seen Twin Peaks I suggest you stop reading now.

Spoilers for Twin Peaks

The finale of Twin Peaks: The Return sees the return of Dale Cooper in his corporeal form, but his efforts are ultimately fruitless. He isn’t able to save the town of Twin Peaks or Laura Palmer from the greater evil that’s manifested in the world. In my opinion, this greatly mirrors the efforts of an artist who truly wants to express themself in a way that might be understood. As I write this, I realize that Lynch would have hated this analysis—he wasn’t a fan of people dissecting his work and trying to make sense of the “senseless.” There are only so many words yet all of them fail to communicate how we feel, hence his reliance on art. But, much the way Lynch was deeply misunderstood throughout his career, with some critics referring to his work as “undisciplined” and “meandering,” his works are ultimately a failing effort in terms of communication.

Final Thoughts

With all of this being said, I want to leave you with my thoughts on Lynch’s overall works and what they mean to me:

There is beauty in vulgarity. Absurdity is not found in deviating from the status quo, but in sticking with it. We must find it in ourselves to do that which scares us, that pushes us into a zone of discomfort because therein lies hope. The world, as it is presented, is a bleak place. But we can be the beautiful thing that exists in the world, that changes it. It all starts with hope. Hope for something else. Hope is beauty. 

“Keep your eye on the donut and not on the hole.” – David Lynch

R.I.P.

01/20/1946 – 01/15/2025