Costume idea: The Glynch. Paint your face green, slick your hair back (dye it silver if you’re cool), slap a suit on, and go around chain smoking and stashing loose coffee beans from the hosts of Halloween parties in an oversized sack. I just needed that out in the world. Moving on.
Mr. David Keith Lynch was and always will be one of the most incredible directors of all time. His range of esoteric epics spoke to the mainstream via a universal appeal to dreams. Despite highly subjective narratives dripping with pineal excretion, he was capable of grounding his viewer with the most magnificent, memorable, and dynamic characters the silver screen has ever projected. His work speaks with an effervescent brutality that seeks to re-establish the viewer’s sense of justification and rationality while magnifying the beauty of mundanity. The world owes Lynch for accelerating the embrace of art-forward cinema in major markets, and I resent how many of my ex-partners say that Eraserhead was a waste of their time. He’s a true cinematic genius that will be remembered for centuries. Also, his anti-littering ad was the best anti-littering ad I’ve ever seen—and he’s up against the likes of Yogi Bear. That’s tough stuff.
With that said, I’m not here to discuss his wealth of directorial treasures. No, I intend on exploring the bummock of his creations (the bottom of the iceberg—top is the hummock… the more y’know). To watch Lynch’s filmography is to understand only a fragment of his unbridled beautiful genius, and I hope this list exposes people to his full creative depth. Here are ten of David Lynch’s non-cinematic pursuits that prove he was a master of the expressive spirit and a true renaissance man.
Painting
Before he became a filmmaker, Lynch coveted a career in painting. In his 2006 book Catching The Big Fish, Lynch writes, “So I was a painter. I painted and I went to art school. I had no interest in film. I would go to a film sometimes, but I really just wanted to paint.” This attitude persisted until he laid eyes on the, literally groundbreaking, 1966 film, It’s The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown, to which he responded by collapsing in the theatre and announcing, “The pumpkin is greater than the canvas!” While this is indeed a lie, Lynch did attend the Boston Museum School for painting, before switching to the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts. It was in Pennsylvania that Lynch uncovered his affinity for filmmaking. The story goes: while painting a nighttime garden scene, Lynch stopped to admire his work. After he noticed the rich green paint twisting and curling on his canvas, it struck him that film could breathe life into his static artwork. Shortly after, Lynch decided to submit a moving painting to an experimental school contest, titled Six Men Getting Sick (Six Times). The four-minute moving picture is impressively evocative for its simplicity and its ominous siren, became foreshadowing for Lynch’s later mastery of sound design.
Similarly to his films, David Lynch’s visual art combines a raw sense of terror with cartoonish and surreal composition. While his visual art often lacks colour, he commonly employs elements of collage and mixed media, placing emphasis on texture and distortion. Lynch’s paintings lean into their own universe. While some painters paint with the intention of subverting or criticizing some public context, Lynch’s pictures display a world that’s removed from our own. His visual creation has often been compared to Francis Bacon, and he maintained an active studio practice until his passing in 2025. Some of my favourite Lynch pieces include Rat Meat Bird, So This Is Love, and really anything from the exhibition A Figure Witnessing The Orchestration of Time. If you want to explore Lynch’s paintings, but don’t have the cash for one of his books, including Someone Is In My House, The Unified Field, or David Lynch: Paintings & Drawings, I recommend checking out the documentary, David Lynch: The Art Life.
Design
*Cue a pulsing red strobe. Blues chords cut through the air like electricity. You look down; the floor is checkered. You’re in a hallway. A second strobe starts. A third, a fourth, a fifth. Feverish bulbs connected to gangly metal frames…* You’re in David Lynch’s lamp storage locker.
Of all Lynch’s non-cinematic creations, his light fixtures are my favourite. Impressed by the German Bauhaus school of design, Lynch’s sculpture-forward fixtures embrace modernist sensibilities. The use of primary colours, exposed metal joinery, and lineal framing establishes a visual pragmatism that Lynch subverts with excess structure, tiny lamp heads, and unruly organic composition. The combination reads like Dr. Seuss gone brutalist architect. One of most impressive qualities of Lynch’s work, and this is certainly true of his films, is that he somehow makes a lack of reason feel justified. There is no logical key or formula that unlocks the motivation of Twin Peaks’ Bob (Frank Silva) or The Lost Highway’s Mystery Man (Robert Blake)—they simply are; a fact that’s complemented by Lynch’s reluctance to interpret his own work. While viewing Lynch’s lamps, one can’t help but tumble down the same rabbit hole of thought. His lights are so intriguing because this sense of justified absurdity is being juxtaposed with a design language that has been historically informed by purpose and practicality; the contrast creates an almost comedic effect.
You can watch Lynch create a light fixture for the exhibition Big Bongo Night in an oddly paced 2003 short film titled Lamp. The documentary is process-forward, and sees Lynch fleshing out one of his sculptures using Fix-All, gauze, and paint. During the thirty-minute runtime, Lynch discusses the pacing of his workday, mixing colours, and his relationship with thoroughness.
Of course, Lynch also made furniture. In 1997, Lynch released a collection of mid-century modern pieces titled The Salon de Mobile. The furniture was produced by the Swiss brand, Casonastra, and features two floating lounge tables, a classy bench for espresso, and an intricate club table for refreshments and smokeables. Several of these pieces can be seen in his film, Lost Highway, which came out the same year.
Alright, that was a long one. Don’t worry; they won’t all be that thorough.
Cartoons
During the arduous five-year creation of his debut feature Eraserhead, David Lynch started writing a comic strip titled The Angriest Dog in the World. The strip pictured a dog paralyzed with anger—seething as the days passed him by. Readers watched this static dog while the owners’ dialogue trailed out from the window next to him. What initially began as a rage-based outlet for the unmoving production of Eraserhead, evolved into a recurrent strip printed by LA Weekly and later the Baltimore Sun. Every Monday for nine years, Lynch would call in a new quip, joke, or existential non sequitur to complete the fixed, formulaic panels.
Even more crude than The Angriest Dog in the World was Lynch’s New Grounds-style, eight-episode animated series, Dumbland. This show was commissioned in 2001 by the website shockwave.com, and was hand-drawn by Lynch using a computer mouse. Each episode took Lynch ten days to draw, equating to a three to five minute run time per episode. Frankly, there isn’t much to the cartoon besides juvenile, repetitive, slapstick animated violence, but at my core I am a twelve-year-old boy who grew up on internet Flash cartoons, so I have a lot of love for Dumbland. My personal favourite episode is number 5. Get The Stick. This episode sees Randy, the white trash protagonist, attempting to retrieve a stick that’s been lodged lengthwise between a stranger’s top and bottom jaw. Criterion Collection later released the series, paying homage to his earlier comic strip with the title, The Angriest Cartoon in the World.
Music
DUM-DUN… do-dee-do-do-dee do do do… DUM-DUN… do-dee-do-do-dee do do do DUM-DUN… weeeeeeeeeeeee-wooooooooooo -deeeeeeeeeeeee-dooooooooooooo DUM-DUN…
‘The Twin Peaks Theme’ is my karaoke song.
Music is certainly one of the better-known Lynch hobbies. He is responsible for some of the most iconic soundtracks in cinema. Most impressively, Lynch co-wrote the jazzy backing to Twin Peaks with Angelo Badalamenti. I stand by the fact that Tesla should have a feature where the vehicle automatically cues the ‘Twin Peaks Theme’ while immersed in fog. Anyways, everyone knows about his soundtracks; let’s talk about the weirder stuff.
David Lynch’s non-cinematic music is quite like candy corn. No one seeks it out, there is too much of it, but hey… it still has its fans. I think the best way to cover this section is a little rapid-fire format. READY, STEADY, GO! 1998 album Lux Vivens—a collaboration with Jocelyn Montgomery; it’s pleasantly spacey, incredibly experimental, and worth a listen. 2002 album BlueBob—Obviously bluesy, pretty mid, and kind of just sounds like two guys experimenting with a drum machine. 2007 album The Air Is On Fire—it’s a gallery soundscape; it sounds like every other soundscape. 2011 album Crazy Clown Time —surprisingly his most listenable piece of standalone music, and I credit this to Lynch’s bizarre and heavily filtered vocal performances (‘So Glad’, ‘Pinky’s Dream’, and ‘Football Game’ are bangers). 2013 album The Big Dream—decent instrumental moments that are soured by bland Lynch vocals and forced lyrics. 2015 album Polish Night Music—Lynch messes around with a synthesizer while a Polish guy (Marek Zebrowski) freeform fiddles with the keys. 2018 album Thought Gang—a collaborative Badalamenti joint with hits and misses, a lot of passion, and solid focus; I just don’t know when I’d ever listen to this project. 2024 album Cellophane Memories—every time Lynch collaborates with a female vocalist it’[s awesome; this collaborative piece with Chrystabell is the strongest album he’s put out.
Okay, that was a lot. Are you ready to go through his singles? READY, STEADY—don’t worry, I wouldn’t do that to you. I also hate this segment. I’ll end with this: the most impressive of Lynch’s musical feats is the Industrial Symphony No. 1: The Dream of the Broken Hearted. It’s a 50-minute taped big band concert performed at the Brooklyn Academy of Music in New York. The avant-garde production featured 10 tracks and performances by Nicolas Cage and Laura Dern.
Meditation
This entry is a little cheeky. It’s not quite an expressive endeavour, but more the fertilizer of Lynch’s creative garden. I love comparing life-defining spiritual practices to fertilizer.
In Catching the Big Fish, Lynch writes about the mood-and-mind-expanding capabilities of meditation. He explains that, “If you have a golf-ball-sized consciousness, when you read a book, you’ll have a golf-ball-sized understanding; when you look out a window, a golf-ball-sized awareness; when you wake up in the morning, a golf-ball-sized wakefulness; and as you go about your day, a golf-ball-sized inner happiness.” Not to mention a golf-ball-sized golf game. Lynch states that meditation is the only tool for broadening your scope of consciousness. He also claims that meditation allows one to dive deeper into their creative ocean, hunting out larger, more provocative ideas, which he likens to fish. Lynch’s meditation regimen was simple: 20 minutes before breakfast and 20 minutes before dinner. He claimed to have never missed a session since his first meditative experience in 1978.
In an effort to share the benefits of his practice, Lynch created the David Lynch Foundation for Consciousness-Based Education and Peace. The foundation offers funding and education for students, hosts fundraising concerts, and subsidizes meditation lessons for at-risk individuals and veterans.
Photography
I know what you’re thinking. ‘I’ve seen Lynch’s films. I know all about his cinematography. I can skip this entry.’ And to that I’d say: ‘you fool! You’ll be punished for your insolence.’
I was surprised at how much I enjoyed David Lynch’s photowork. It’s true that filmmakers often release photobooks that feel half-baked or more like Easter eggs for cinephiles, but Lynch’s still image practice provides a refined and vivid departure from his other mediums. His most famous collection of photos is from his 2014 book Factory Photographs. Aptly titled, his photos explore the abandoned industrial landscapes of Poland, Germany, England, and the US. The imagery highlights the silence and poetry of inorganic decay. What I found so impressive about this collection is Lynch’s ability to transform the factory, a layered symbol of the ‘man-made’ ideal (a man-made arena to manufacture man-made goods) into something that looks so incredibly alien. His pictures of the bulbous cooling towers best exemplify this emotion. The entire collection plays with scale, with wide and close-up shots. You can almost feel a dread-inducing soundscape emanating from the black and white pages of this collection.
I also appreciate that Lynch photographs a range of subjects. In 1994, Lynch released his first photobook titled Images. It contained, as one would guess, a variety of images, some relating to his films, but many belonging to more bizarre categories like ‘spark plugs’ or ‘dental hygiene.’ This book was followed by a 2004 release titled Distorted Nudes, which displayed augmented and haunting photos of naked anatomy. This is another personal favourite of mine, as the photos lean into experimentation and the grotesque. In 2007 he released Snowmen, a plain and endearing collection of melting men made out of ice, branches, carrots, etc. Lastly, in 2017, Lynch released one more photo book titled Nudes, which contained—you guessed it!
Meteorology
Beyond his fanciful, creative, and aesthetic pursuits, David Lynch was also a humble and consistent meteorologist. From 2005 to 2010, Lynch delivered the Los Angeles weather via his Daily Reports, which he posted to the now defunct, davidlynch.com. After providing a succinct description of the day’s cloud coverage or beaming sun, including the weather’s promise to change, Lynch would discuss his thoughts for the day. This usually concerned a song or a musician but was dependent on his mood.
Lynch resumed his daily weather reports in 2020 during Covid and continued to release daily episodes on YouTube until 2022. When Lynch finally ended the series, he mentioned in an interview, “Now I can sleep longer in the morning. I had to get up very early to consult the real weather bulletin.”
There is something incredibly profound about repeating a process every day. I think Lynch recognized this too. Repetition holds a magnifying glass to the magic of existence—it’s the artistic ceremony of honouring life.
Coffee
“Harry, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Every day, once a day, give yourself a present. Don’t plan it, don’t wait for it. Just… let it happen. It could be a new shirt at the men’s store, or a catnap in your office chair, or… two cups of good hot black coffee.”
For those who are uninitiated, David Lynch loves coffee. He once described it as a symbol of the ‘art life,’ and he’s been known to consume it at a cup count averaging in the double digits. I won’t lie to you, this one feels more like a celebrity product cash grab than an artistic practice, but damn it, I’ve drank the bean-aid! I must present everything Lynch touched as godly or my pretentious reality is at threat of crashing down like a tent propped up with wet cigarettes.
Lynch’s coffee line was aptly titled David Lynch’s Signature Cup Coffee. It was available at Whole Foods and on his website. Lynch offered three different varieties, including a smooth, light-roasted house blend, a chocolatey espresso, and a sweet French roast decaf. Obviously, the coffee line was accompanied by a bizarre advertisement that saw David Lynch tightly gripping the head of a Barbie doll and making it ask for a black cup of coffee. You should check it out. Log it on Letterboxd so your friends know how shamelessly pretentious you are.
Writing
Duh… Lynch was a writer. Not only did Lynch write screenplays and lyrics for his music, but he also wrote several books and poems. The most successful of these books is the aforementioned Catching the Big Fish, which primarily focuses on the benefits of meditation, but also explores his life, creative process, and general opinions. He writes with a simple yet pleasant tone that reads somewhere between exposition and poetry.
His list of books includes Catching The Big Fish, Room to Dream, and Lynch on Lynch. While he has never published a consolidated collection of poetry—saving the bulk of his figurative writing for paintings, songs, or scripts—you can still find fragments of Lynch’s poetry online. The piece Dark Deep Darkness stands out, as it mirrors the idiosyncratic signature themes of his other work.
Nightclub
All this discussion of artwork, music, furniture, confectionery, and design—doesn’t it make you yearn for a strange adult daycare where you can freely wax ostentatious about the most niche facets of Lynch’s career. A place where one can use the word ‘auteur’ and smell bad, without inciting the deserved bullying. May I present to you David Lynch’s parisian opus, Club Silencio.
Opened in 2010 by Lynch and Arnaud Frisch, Club Silencio is modeled after the fictional hangout as seen in Mulholland Drive. After descending six flights of stairs into the basement of 142 rue de Montmartre, patrons are free to enjoy a photography gallery, cinema, library, smoking room, multiple bars, a darkroom, and a 7,500-square-foot stage. The club has hosted the likes of Lana Del Rey, Lana Del Rey, and Lana Del Rey… oh and I’m pretty sure Prince played once. Club Silencio is a coalescence of Lynch’s lifetime of work and attention to detail. The club is packed with furniture and lighting designed by Lynch specifically for the space, and the venue hosts unique exhibits year-round.
There are other Club Silencio locations across the globe, but they weren’t designed by Lynch so who cares! Also when I clicked on the New York location it said ‘Application error: a client-side exception has occurred (see the browser console for more information),’ so as far as I’m concerned that place might not actually even exist, but I digress.
Rest in peace David Lynch—you will be remembered as one of the greatest artists of all time.