He paints, he directs movies, he draws, he writes, he buttons his shirt to the tippy-top.
While I do love David Lynch, I'm kind of pissed. I have to wonder what cosmic joke it is to endow people with talent upon talent, while the rest of us have to be happy with picking out the correct hand towels that match our kitchen potholders.
I remember the day that I had mastered Mod-Podge. I layered paper on paper and globbed on with reckless abandon. Twenty-four hours later a crusty and waxy masterpiece was left behind that was wrought with my half-assed and ethnically inappropriate cartoons. This...is talent.
From there, I wildly collaged every blank piece of canvas and cardboard I could find with old water-damaged life magazines that Dustin and I found in an over-priced antique mall. I've never really made anything worthwhile, but the moments when I'm completely immersed in a shitty collage, I feel like it's going to click and I'll have a David Lynch moment of complete artistic lunacy. Collage lunacy.
Are David Lynchs born? Are David Lynchs bred?
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