[David Lynch 1990 interview with the Süddeutsche Zeitung]
but please try again to describe your beauty.
I do not know if hiding behind things that I feel as beautiful, an ideal concept. I find very different things beautiful: the sight of broken glass for example, or an oil spill on the ground. Skin - is there anything more beautiful? Only smoke in the sky is almost as beautiful. Or wire. Even teeth.
have oil on the bottom teeth and a mysterious connection?
Since slept for a psychological Context. Companies such as the teeth: they are very hard and they stuck in the mouth, which is very soft and vulnerable. I'm always fascinated when opposites touch each other. Oil and cement. Or a factory near the sea. The sea alone, with no factory is not beautiful in my eyes. It is the transformation of nature by man makes beautiful. An oil refinery in the desert. A factory in the countryside.
In women make you seem an exception, because your taste coincides with the classical ideal of beauty. Your wife is Isabella Rossellini. inside all of us just the ability to contradictory to find equally beautiful. I am no exception. This is normal.
keep your movies in the magnifying glass mercilessly enlarged over the alleged normalcy. On closer inspection, we idyll on the horror and the nice fellow human being to monster. 'Blue Velvet' starts with an innocent stroll in the forest, suddenly finds a severed ear.
merkwördige things happen to think it is in the forest. I grew up in Montana. You're hearing the strangest stories. But people tell only ten percent of what they know. The rest you have to find yourself out in the woods.
Have you been as Boy fascinated by this concealed flip side of the petty bourgeois world, in the undergrowth of this mystery?
I really enjoyed it. Thus I was filled with ideas, images and fantastic scenes. But I think it does not matter how you grow up. Each environment is exciting when you look just right.
you get your inspiration in dreams?
No, not if the dreams in my sleep. I'm hanging like to daydream that already. But the conditions have to be optimal, that is: I sit in a brightly lit room muö, prevails in the total order. For example, a Coffee shop. Since then I let my thoughts wander, I can dare myself in spirit in fantastic places - and I get queasy when `s sudden, I can immediately return to my coffee shop. On the table so there is a small paper napkin holder. On the napkin I jot down my thoughts. This is handy. If I have enough napkins together, I make a movie.
Have you ever been to a psychiatrist?
Yes, for an hour.
diagnosis 'hopeless case'?
It was not even a diagnosis. My fear was from the beginning that in the course of therapy, my creativity would be lost. I have communicated to the psychiatrist, and he was a very honest man, who told me: Yes it can happen that. Then I took my leave.
it true that you can go for years always in the same restaurant and eat there is always the same? Yes. Always at half past two clock in the afternoon. For seven years. 'Bob's Big Boy' is the name of the shop, just a normal bar in Los Angeles. It has a huge advantage to eat always the same: We must waste no idea when ordering. However, I had in myself noticed that burn out with time, the capacity for pleasure anyway. Then you have a problem.
you call a couple of books you have not let go.
I refer only to Böcher that make my good mood. For example, Kafka.
curious what you cheers Sun
I try to wait, in my life to have as much fun as possible. I am a 'Funaholic'.
In the film 'Wild At Heart' reached your fun at the brutality of the pain threshold.
I make violence never realistically, but to concentrate on it a little sticks - not too far, only a trace - to the poetic. I want the viewer is touched by the power, posed by the struggle between life and death.
There is a rumor that you also occasionally take home a severed ear in his pocket to scare people.
here or there. People would then respectively, that it was the ear of 'Blue Velvet'. But it was not the same ear. It was just an ear that has someone once mailed. A rubber ear. I had it happen in the pocket. I do not know why. I have many strange things in the bag.
War filmmakers have always been your dream job? No. I grew up in a kind of egg. Nothing touched me really, until I was about nineteen years old. At nineteen I went to Philadelphia. There, I woke up. I had my own first thoughts in Philadelphia. Then we moved to the Ostköste and a new friend told me that his father was a painter. Painter. For me it was an awesome experience: I always thought that one must stop to paint when you're grown up. From that moment on I wanted to be a painter. I painted all night long - and one day I had this thought: What I paint, expresses something of me. I felt suddenly that there's something in me, something very personal. The desire to paint me not to leave today. If I have time, I fall I still madly in the painting.
Or the music? music concerns me very much, that's true. With composer Angelo Badalamenti together I have written a symphony, the "Industrial Symphony No. 1 '. Music is all for me the ideal way to create moods. Music for me but when I go into factories and these powerful machines can see and hear - this is orchestrated construction. I love factory buildings, mostly steel mills. Machines fascinate me. But above all I love cars. The idea that we ineinanderklinkt metal parts in a certain way, and Once the moves, and you can ride it - magical.
Do you have your beautiful old Packard?
No, I've sold. Owning a car involves a great deal Kummer Security: anything is broken, the repair devour money - frustrating. But, no question, the car gives a fantastic experience. It's very interesting, how to change, depending on what för in a car you sit. The mood is changing, the entire self-esteem.
The scenery in your films, the deceptive idyll comes to me many times before as an American Bavaria. Have you ever been to Bavaria?
Yes. I had a Bavarian uncle. He was a painter and lived near Munich. Jürgen Prochnow me once invited to his home in Bavaria. Strangely, the atmosphere in Jürgens house reminded me of something. The structure of the wall plaster, the light in the rooms, the quiet - unbelievable, I suddenly felt myself transported back to the world of my childhood.
interview Christan Kümmerling © Süddeutsche Zeitung 1990
