David Lynch, stuck inside his LA compound as a result of the inclement conditions outdoors, has taken to noticing, for us, the weather. On May 11th, the director began uploading daily weather reports to a new YouTube channel, David Lynch Theater. Each video, lasting from about thirty seconds to a minute, features Lynch sitting in a corner of his workshop, greeting us with the time, day of the week, and current temperature, before looking up and reporting on what he sees outside his window — most often ”beautiful sunshine” but sometimes ”rain, grey and gloomy,” or, my favorite, that everything is ”very still.” The videos end with the artist wishing us a fantastic day, always in his trademark peachy-keen sort of way. They're prosaic, almost scientific daily updates, (mostly) devoid of artistic flair. Watching the day's Weather Report has become a routine for me, just as they've become a routine for Lynch to record and share them.
The first few videos were viewed as quaint anomalies or bite-sized short films, a timely and perhaps wry response to the forced cloistering of so many people across the world. The idea went that Lynch was whiling away his time in quarantine, unable to shoot a new movie until things calmed down, so he was just working with what he had, and what he had was weather. Except, the videos didn't end like a short film series ends. They're still coming, even as the world cautiously opens back up. People also realized that these aren't his first weather reports. Instead of being a response to quarantine, the Weather Reports are in fact an exercise in Zen noticing, years in the making.
With the Weather Reports, Lynch is employing some of the meditative skills that he's talked about for decades. He isn't judging, isn't forecasting, isn't piling on implicit meanings — he is simply reporting on what he happens to see when he chooses to look out his window. And what he sees is innocuous, straightforward, and comforting by virtue of its sheer simplicity. It's the sun, it's some fog. It's the material that makes up the everyday. As we live through a mindfulness boom that is slowly growing into a commodified form of productivity boost, the Weather Reports acknowledge the need for attention while at the same time rejecting any implicit usefulness. You probably won't be better at your job for looking out the window, but what does it matter? Two little clouds are floating by.
What the Weather Reports show us is that it's enough simply to notice. We don't need to elaborate on the phenomena of the world to enjoy them fully. Sunny days happen, just like rainy days happen, just like foggy days happen. As an old Zen saying goes, ”Comparisons are onerous.” One day is the next day is the day after. (It certainly feels that way when you let all the Weather Reports autoplay.)
That is, until June 2nd, when Lynch was conspicuously missing from his wheely chair in the corner. If you're out of the loop, this was #blackouttuesday, when numerous celebrities and brands expressed support for the George Floyd protests by ”blacking out” their feeds with gestures of emptiness/empty gestures. Lynch's paean to the protests, a refusal to deliver the 6/2/20 address, goes a step further than these other messages of support, at least in my mind. It puts forward the notion that even ”objective” acts of noticing can effect social action. That is, one can observe the injustices of the world and weigh on them while still believing that the material world is nothingness manifested, as the artist does. Lynch is showing that it doesn't take ego to take a stand on something — you can notice injustice in the same way as you can notice fog lingering outside the window, and you are not betraying transcendental awareness for caring. We collectively respond to the world as it is. It is human to do so — just as human as it is to chat about the weather. An appreciation for stillness can coexist with a raging passion for change.
On June 3rd, Lynch was back in his chair, wishing ”have a great day, everyone” after reporting on the wispy clouds he saw. He predicted “sunshine all the way” for the afternoon, and then got up and walked away to reveal a “Black Lives Matter” sign on the bench behind him.
Today, it was “early morning fog, all grey.” No sign.
Published June 6, 2020