Turnbull, Lost Highway certainly is self-indulgent. Self-indulgence, a mere form of aesthetic masturbation, is what defines art, to me. Lynch seeks no audience, no critics, he makes the films he wants to.

When I watched Mulholland Dr. the first time, I disclaimed it as an interesting, visually arresting piece of work with too much thematic deja vu to call a masterpiece. Since revisiting it, I can see an artist exploring his obsessions and fascinations; you see themes, motifs and visuals recurring throughout his work, some intentional and for self-reflexive fun, others subconsciously projecting and coming about by coincidence; note the use of red curtains in his films, candles, matches, slow motion - also note the zig-zagged carpet which shows up in Henry's lobby in Eraserhead, then again in the Red Room in Twin Peaks, this time in dazzling colour.

And yes, by Bacon, I meant the painter, Francis, another hero of mine. I'm currently in the process of writing an essay comparing Lynch with Bacon. I'll send you when I'm done...

Thanks,
Mick