A few years back, we used to host a “salon series” in conjunction with the Dallas Museum of Art and Nasher Sculpture Center, right down the street from the school in the “Arts District.” Speakers would come to speak, be interviewed by students, and address questions from the student body, packed into the Montgomery Arts Theater. Some of the guests included Stephen Sondheim, Lauren Bacall, Robert Duvall, Twyla Tharp, Art Garfunkel, Gladys Knight, Marvin Hamlisch, and so on….
Most of the young students had no idea who most of these folks were. (Only a fraction of the student body knew who Sidney Poitier was when I brought him in as our speaker at the Paul Baker Writers’ Conference back in 2000 or 2001, I forget which.)
These events, by the way, were held on the same stage where you, David, spoke so evocatively about Joni Mitchell and performed several of her songs with current students.
For one such event, I was in the theater, reverberating with the cacophony of hundreds of hyped-up students, monitoring the scene and waiting for the salon to begin when a group of very sweet, excited, and histrionic girls ran up to me, vying to deliver the news: “Mr. Davison! Mr. Davison! We’ve found the perfect woman for you! She’s like a female version of you!”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, perplexed but rather amused.
“I don’t remember her name, but she came into our theater class and talked to us for an hour. She was weird – good weird – and fascinating! You two were made for each other!”
Oh, the beautiful exuberance and naïve dreams of the young! Who was this mystery woman, I chuckled to myself?
“There she is!” one of them shouted, pointing toward the stage. “That’s her.”
Did you show Blue Velvet to undergrads? Could you do that now? Would they send you packing? I first saw it in a tiny little 40-seat theatre in Pullman, WA, when I was a junior at Washington State University. I was still very much a provincial small town kid but I immediately recognized that I’d grown up Blue Velvet-esque small towns, which is probably no accident since Lynch lived in Eastern Washington, Northern Idaho, and Western Montana at various points during his childhood—the places where my ancestors and I have lived for thousands of years. I knew two or three Frank Booths.
I recall seeing ERASERHEAD when it first came out. No one knew anything about it, or David Lynch, and it was always an amusing challenge to respond whenever someone asked: "What's it about?"
A few years back, we used to host a “salon series” in conjunction with the Dallas Museum of Art and Nasher Sculpture Center, right down the street from the school in the “Arts District.” Speakers would come to speak, be interviewed by students, and address questions from the student body, packed into the Montgomery Arts Theater. Some of the guests included Stephen Sondheim, Lauren Bacall, Robert Duvall, Twyla Tharp, Art Garfunkel, Gladys Knight, Marvin Hamlisch, and so on….
Most of the young students had no idea who most of these folks were. (Only a fraction of the student body knew who Sidney Poitier was when I brought him in as our speaker at the Paul Baker Writers’ Conference back in 2000 or 2001, I forget which.)
These events, by the way, were held on the same stage where you, David, spoke so evocatively about Joni Mitchell and performed several of her songs with current students.
For one such event, I was in the theater, reverberating with the cacophony of hundreds of hyped-up students, monitoring the scene and waiting for the salon to begin when a group of very sweet, excited, and histrionic girls ran up to me, vying to deliver the news: “Mr. Davison! Mr. Davison! We’ve found the perfect woman for you! She’s like a female version of you!”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, perplexed but rather amused.
“I don’t remember her name, but she came into our theater class and talked to us for an hour. She was weird – good weird – and fascinating! You two were made for each other!”
Oh, the beautiful exuberance and naïve dreams of the young! Who was this mystery woman, I chuckled to myself?
“There she is!” one of them shouted, pointing toward the stage. “That’s her.”
Our salon guest had just walked out on stage.
Of course, it was Isabella Rossellini.
We need to talk about Twin Peaks The Return. There’s another chapter to write in this wonderful essay.
Did you show Blue Velvet to undergrads? Could you do that now? Would they send you packing? I first saw it in a tiny little 40-seat theatre in Pullman, WA, when I was a junior at Washington State University. I was still very much a provincial small town kid but I immediately recognized that I’d grown up Blue Velvet-esque small towns, which is probably no accident since Lynch lived in Eastern Washington, Northern Idaho, and Western Montana at various points during his childhood—the places where my ancestors and I have lived for thousands of years. I knew two or three Frank Booths.
I recall seeing ERASERHEAD when it first came out. No one knew anything about it, or David Lynch, and it was always an amusing challenge to respond whenever someone asked: "What's it about?"