In Heaven, Everything is Fine
In Heaven, Everything is Fine
You've Got Your Good Thing
And I've Got Mine
Sam was called away to Moscow suddenly this weekend and all of our plans went out the window, but hopefully to some future good. Providence prevailed, though, and I was gifted with many surprises. What a lovely weekend. My friend Tammara unexpectedly came down from SF and introduced me to a great new gal pal who I hope to know forever and we had some much needed shenanigans on Saturday night. And I want to forever thank Adriana and David for treating me to a Sunday beyond measure.
We went to the little MOCA extension at the Pacific Design Center to see the work of Mark Rothko. I have to admit that when I saw his work in art history books I never quite got it. Squares of color- big whoop, right? Well, no- Big Whoop. We stood in a small room with these giant canvases and I had a truly psychedelic experience with pure color. Color that spoke volumes. There was a particular painting that caused me to nearly faint multiple times- but, yes, just the top part. It was absolutely mind bending and it completely changed the way I view art and what I value in it.
If that weren’t enough, we then went to go see David Lynch and Donovan speak and perform at the Kodak theatre. Adriana talks about this more eloquently in her blog, as ever, but I just have to say that Lynch has informed my existence on this earth in such a profound way that I simply don’t know who I would be had I never been exposed to him, and to see him in person was such an honor. It was Gabe who showed me Blue Velvet and Eraserhead for the first time when I was 17. Blue Velvet remains my number one favorite film of all time, and Eraserhead continues to haunt my darkest dreams. Don’t get me started on Twin Peaks. Lynch spoke about Transcendental Meditation and creativity, answering questions read aloud by Laura Dern, who he affectionately calls “The Tidbit.” Oh, this man. And the friends who brought me to him. Oh.
He said that meditation has changed the way he holds onto emotion. That he still gets angry, but he can’t hold on to it anymore. That he can feel despair, but he can’t help but to let it go. He can’t hold it. This struck me as something very similar to a change I have been noticing in myself of late. That all I want to hold on to, all that I am able to hold onto, is the joy. He kept saying that the more you delve into the deep waters, the better and better life gets. The answers become more readily accessible, and the levels become more profound. He didn’t say these things in a superior way- he said them quite simply.
When he speaks, he holds his left hand completely still on the lectern while his right hand dances in the air, his fingers constantly playing invisible chords on a universal instrument that no one has seen but knows must exist- somewhere. He also said that there is no reason to shy away from exploring despair and pain in ones art- but that it did not mean that the artist must be in pain in order to do so- quite the contrary, in fact. And I have to thank him for that. Alot.
And then Donovan came out and sang all of his old amazing tunes like a paisleyed little hermit come down from the Hobbitsey hills and when he went into “The Hurdy Gurdy Man” I think something in my head might have exploded a little.