I’m not going to say that I’ve met David Lynch, but this happened once:
I had the opportunity to ask him a question, so I asked how he balances the business and creative aspects of being an artist. Here’s what he said:
You gotta be real lucky because the businesses run on money, and a lot of people in the business just see it as a moneymaking thing: entertainment to make money. And they tailor everything to get the most money.
I came to filmmaking through painting, and one thing that’s kind of in common with most painters is extreme poverty. It’s not about money. It’s about loving to paint. And that’s the way I see cinema. You get an idea you fall in love with. It’s about love. You do it.
At the same time, money is important to live—and to keep working and get tools and get a setup so you can do those ideas that come. And it does cost a lot to make a film. The people that put the money in, they want to get at least their money back. Hopefully they want to make a profit.
So it’s a tricky business. It’s a very tricky business, and I appreciate everybody that’s put money into my films. I don’t think, except for Inland Empire, I’ve never lost anybody money. They haven’t gotten rich from my films, but they haven’t lost. I think some distributors, foreign distributors lost on Inland Empire, and I’m sorry for that.
I’m struck by the phrase “loving to paint.” To some extent, it reminds me of what people say about teaching, which happens to be my day-job. Someone’s always spouting off some version of “Teachers do what they do because they love it!” And, yes, some of us do love it, but we do it because we need to pay the bills. The trouble comes in when people use our love of teaching as a weapon: You want better pay? What’s wrong? Don’t you love what you do? Don’t you care about your students?
The same goes for anyone working in similar industries: healthcare, for example, or food service. It also goes for people who make a living in creative industries – writers, actors, graphic artists, musicians. The list goes on and on.
Right now, I’m thinking specifically of the WGA and SAG-AFTRA members who are currently striking. They’re employees of companies that make loads of money selling a product that the guild members make. In David Lynch’s words, it’s “entertainment to make money.”
But because it’s what many would consider a dream job, the media giants bludgeon them with the same kinds of questions that plague service workers: You want to be paid fairly? You want assurances that you won’t be replaced by AI? Do you know how many people would kill to have your job?
It’s a business relationship, and the folks who are doing the work deserve to be paid and treated fairly.
That said, when it comes to art, David Lynch is talking about something else.
Looking at my own situation, no one ever told me to write a book or paint a picture or record a song. What’s more, no one else is really benefiting from my labor. I can bitch and moan about how little Spotify pays artists all I want, but the fact is that they’ll do just fine without me and without a big chunk of the artists who are on there. The majority of listeners just want to hear “Brown Eyed Girl” or something by Ed Sheeran and call it a day.
My point is that I don’t work for them, so they really don’t owe me anything. I’ve gone into any and all agreements with my eyes wide open and with no expectation that any of my endeavors will lead to anything remotely resembling financial stability.
In short, I do what I do because I love it. Or, more accurately, because my mind is constantly jumping from one thing to the next and I feel compelled to noodle, tinker, and create. Whatever you call it, it’s my own fault, for lack of a better word, that I’m doing the thing I do.
And that’s where the luck comes in. In terms of my artistic pursuits—music chief among them—I consider myself “real lucky.” I have a job that allows me to live and “to keep working and get tools and a setup” so I can pursue any ideas that come along.
Which brings us back to David Lynch: I’m just glad that I’m real lucky. Lucky to have a job. Lucky to have a wife who appreciates that I like doing what I do. Lucky beyond belief that I’ve found a handful of people around the world who like what I make. Some people might call them my audience while others might call them my “market,” but I like to think of them as friends.
So, yeah. I definitely count myself among the real lucky.