Art Review - March Issue - (Page 61)
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DAVID LYNCH dating from the late 1980s to mid-90s explore similar
perspectives in an almost entirely black palette with simply delineated
stick figures scratched angrily into the paint’s thick surface. Their
titles demonstrate his interest in childhood fears that are both
all-encompassing and mildly ridiculous, for example Billy Was Halfway
Between His House and the Sickening Garden of Letters 1990 , Oww God, Mom,
the Dog He Bited Me 1988 and That’s Me in Front of My House 1988 . Lynch
is resistant to discussing the work’s disturbing aspects. He says his
use of live insects, for example, in paintings, feeding on sculpture or
pinned regimentally to boards to be photographed, is not a morbid thing,
evading the issue with deadpan humour: “No, no, no. A lot of insects
arrive when something is decaying, but there’s a lot of insects that are
very busy doing things, like bees. I’m not sure if they’re busy 24/7,
but they’re very good workers, and they’re making honey.” He also
dismisses the Romantic notion of the suffering artist, and he distances
himself from any autobiographical reading of the work. “I always say
that’s a way for an artist to get chicks to help them and take care of
them. It’s real nice to be melancholy and kind of poor, and then the
girls come and make warm meals, and it’s so beautiful! But at the same
time, if you analyse it, the more the artist is suffering, the less the
artist can do. Negativity squeezes the conduit of the flow of
creativity.” Yet Lynch does discuss certain morbid curiosities. When he
first lived in Philadelphia, with his friend the production designer Jack
Fisk when they were both aspiring artists, he used to make regular visits
to the morgue. “Well, because we lived kitty-corner from the morgue, the
city morgue, and I feel like it’s important to experience different
things, and if you want to experience something very organic and see
something that is pretty, you know, powerful, that will make you think in
a different way, then visit the morgue, the city morgue, at midnight.
It’s really something. And then you’ve had that experience, and it
goes into the machine.” Replete with plans for the kind of atmospheric
soundscape that has proved an essential component of his cinema, and
curtains that will act as a backdrop to certain works, The Air Is on Fire
promises to be the consummate ‘David Lynch’ experience. Yet his own
image, specifically as the purveyor of all things weird and freaky, is
something he seems less and less comfortable with. His last three films
have at times been described as pastiches of his earlier work, as Lynch
doing Lynch. As if in answer to this catch-22, Inland Empire is full of
knowing winks at his reputation, including a dancing woman shouting
“This is so weird!” into camera. “My films are not that weird,” he
says, smiling. “But you know, there’s an expression: the world is as
you are. Films are as you are. It’s down to the viewer, and everybody
has a right to say whatever they want.” His artworks will provide the
world with ample opportunities for a fresh perspective on all things
Lynchian. The Air Is on Fire, 3 March – 3 June, Fondation Cartier, Paris
www. fondation.cartier. f r ARTREVIEW p 54-61 David Lynch AR Mar07.ind61 61
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http://www.fondation.cartier.fr
Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of Art Review - March Issue
Manifesto
Dispatches
Consumed
Tales from the City
David Lynch
Marcel Dzama
Future Greats
Art Pilgrimage: Moscow
Mixed Media: Moving Images
Mixed Media: Photography
Mixed Media: Digital
Reviews
Book Reviews
On the Town
On the Record
Art Review - March Issue
https://www.nxtbookmedia.com