Any viewer who has spent time watching and listening to David Lynch's movies has sunk into his worlds, and no two viewers have experienced those worlds alike. 

Salutations, loyal Seat Struck listeners. This week we're proud to kick off our long anticipated DAVID LYNCH WATCH SERIES, starting with an introduction to the filmmaker and then chatting about his debut, avant-garde body horror: Eraserhead.

I don’t like cherry pie. But I loved this cherry pie.

I was in North Bend, Washington, sitting at the counter of Twede’s Cafe, which played a starring role as the Double R Diner in David Lynch’s genre-bending early ’90s television series Twin Peaks. 

David Lynch is gone. But David Lynch is also all around me, basically every day. I am confident in saying that I cannot be alone in feeling like it is impossible to get away from him—not that I want to, to be clear.

This is the paradox at the heart of any retrospective about Lynch and his work. How can scholars seek to understand this creator of strange and impenetrable cinema when, at the prompting of that filmmaker, those films are meant to speak visually and on their own terms?

Using Inland Empire (2006) as a tool to examine time, this paper uses sequences from the film to create passages for concepts of time that are best explained visually—cinematographically. Inland Empire is the vantage point of choice to illustrate how time im-passes from a phenomenological perspective.

This article explores transcendence, liminality and abjection in David Lynch’s "Hollywood triptych" of Lost Highway (1997), Mulholland Dr. (2001) and Inland Empire (2006), arguing that Lynch’s characters achieve transcendence through their engagement with liminal spaces and encounters with abjection.