If any of you know me in real life (which I know a lot of you do), you know that David Lynch is one of my favorite people ever. This past Friday marked a year since he passed away, and today is his eightieth birthday, wherever he is. So I thought I’d do a little appreciation post for, as several people have called him, both in life and death, the best to ever do it. 

Many people call many things ‘Lynchian’. From pieces of work deliberately influenced by his work, to stories that are simply inexplicable in that certain kind of way, David Lynch’s name is invoked in the strange. While many things that are called Lynchian aren’t quite, the point is that they’re weird. Not meant to be understood, or elaborated on, just odd bits of imagination that speak to the viewer like nothing else (except, of course, the Maestro’s original work). He was an artist like no other, who saw a world that only exists in dreams and brought it to the big screen, because he knew that dreams are what people need more than anything. The important part of the term Lynchian is that it isn’t anything stark, there’s not really a clear definition, no criteria to meet, just a feeling. A kind of particular dreaminess that is both everywhere and nowhere, that can only be attributed to the man who brought dreams to celluloid life.

In one of his most famous interviews, David Lynch is asked to elaborate on a statement he made about his first feature film, Eraserhead, to which he simply responds ‘No’. This moment became famous, is occasionally even used as a meme format, but is still the perfect example of the kind of man he was, and the kind of art he inspires. The art is the talking, and elaboration has a tendency to detract from that. And while it may seem strange that I’m saying this on this blog, where elaborating on things is kind of the point, this idea does speak to something I believe is very important in the world he left us, and that is being genuine, and true to your work.

David Lynch died in January of last year, just four days shy of his seventy-ninth birthday, as his City of Lights burned with wildfires. His passing, especially right before the current administration officially took office, shook many people, leading to a sort of virtual wake that would continue for weeks. And the thing that is, I think, most important to keep in mind in these trying times is his legacy of strangeness. He was unapologetic about his art, his style, and the kinds of stories he wanted to tell. He showed that the world we live in is full of both light and darkness, neither of which cancel out the other. He believed in a world full of joy. He refused to elaborate on his ideas because he’d already shown them to you, and didn’t trust words to do them justice in the way film did. So follow his example. Be weird, and get weirder from there. Don’t feel any obligation to be understood by anyone. The right people will get it. Hold on tight to your dreams, work towards them, and let them be strange and vibrant and scary, but let them be. There’s a certain kind of freedom in that, in insisting upon your ideas while at the same time letting people think what they will about them.

So whether you’re a fan of Lynch’s or not, do something a little strange today. Think about the dream you had last night, listen to some Lana Del Rey, watch Twin Peaks, read an odd little book you found at the library, whatever, just engage with the strangeness. Make it a little less intimidating. Believe in joy and light, and know that the darkness and sadness does not cancel out either. And, while I’m not the most spiritual person, I do suggest you take a look at the moon, because who knows.