Sunrise for Lynch: questions that have no answers
Honestly, I’ve never met a sunrise or a sunset I didn’t like or wished that I’d helped create so that I could get credit, but privately, behind the scenes, without drawing any unnecessary attention.
Yet it seems as if I’m living in a time when oligarchs are roaming the earth.
Yes, so many people are now using the word “perfect” on a regular basis to describe the situation, most often in response to a question asked by a questioner seeking either approval or at the least some sort of validation of the seriousness of the question’s intent, whether it really was a serious, well informed question or not. “Perfect”, unfortunately these days, is always the right answer, a kind of cliched truth meant to assuage otherwise inquisitive, curious minds that might actually be digging into the matter at hand for the unpleasant, unsavory facts.
The truest thing I ever heard Kamala Harris say of Donald Trump during her campaign for the presidency was “he’s not a serious man”, a most revealing observation and likely the most honest, truest thing Kamala Harris ever said or will ever say, in the future that is.
It seems that now that nothing can be taken seriously, only scantly clad entertainments that never rise to level of art—the actual delight, horror, and wisdom of art. Instead, only the seven deadly sins accounted for by the Catholic Church and the millions of other members of this Protestanian Christian nation which, in hindsight, is quite an achievement, rise to the occasion.
And so we have four more years to live with this unserious figure dressed as world leader, the president of what many Americans love to call ‘the greatest country on earth”, a tremendously powerful figurehead, ruler of an empire filled with unserious men and a few god-fearing unserious women sprinkled in too. Pre-packaged, pre-ordered Pardons will no doubt be doled out at the Inauguration. It’s a kind of pantomime, a weather report delivered to the Fuhrer, in which everything will soon be revealed, yet once again, as either terribly embarrassing to all involved or as a sacred truth guarded within the 5 corners of The Pentagon.
David Lynch, artist, admirable for making things that asked strange questions that have no answers. Disturbing, like an invader with noble intentions who only hoped to wake you up, at least a little bit so that you can go on with the rest of your day. I didn’t understand David Lynch’s art at the time. I’m happy now that I didn’t understand it then and happy that I do now.
Sunrise over Twin Peaks, San Francisco (homage Lynch), January 17, 2025. Photo by author.