Watched a documentary on David Lynch’s beginnings as an artist. Mostly known as a filmmaker, he began as a painter, a sometimes sculptor. He left his D.C. home for Boston to attend art school, dabbled in film, eventually ending up in Philly where he fully began to explore his predilection for capturing his sense of reality on film. An exposed reel of film (a mistake) was an inciting point. From here he was provided with grants and fellowships to study film, eventually making his way to Los Angeles to spends years at an institute making his first full-length movie, Eraserhead. The rest is film history.
What was remarkable about the documentary was how it showed Lynch, at work; it showed his process. His process is to sit in a chair. Stare off in the distance. Maybe smoke a cigarette. Jot down a note or two. (Yes, he’s known to meditate twice a day for twenty minutes, but that’s not what I’m talking about here. Meditation no doubt helps. But his simple address to art is to sit and wait for something to move him, and until he’s so moved, he doesn’t).
This is hard to do. Everything tells you to do something. Your body says move. Your brain is a runaway train of thought(s). Culture says move. But he sits. Sits and waits.