“A Vision of Light”

I’m the kind of person who watches the same movies and TV series over and over again. I re-read books multiple times, listen to albums until I know every measure and rest. This is how my artwork is influenced by the work of others; scenes and passages and lyrics are whirling around in my mind like a continuous gale force wind.

Twin Peaks has to be in my top five list of favorite cinematic works, film and television alike. There’s a ton of incredible Twin Peaks-inspired artwork out there– if you’re looking, a great place to start is at the Instagram account @welcometotwinpeaks. There are enough eloquent quotes, feelings and concepts from that show to make for a life’s work of illustrations, but there is one truly tear-welling moment that I go back to and watch over and over.

In this scene, Bobby (the kid) and his father, Garland Briggs, have somewhat of an estranged relationship, and Garland runs into him at the local diner and tells Bobby of a vision he’s had. In Garland’s vision, Bobby is happy and his life is full, and it brings his father great joy to think of, and even more to have had the opportunity to share it with him.

I lost my father when I was close to the age that Bobby’s character is in the series. At the time, I wasn’t really aware of the toll his absence would take on me, or that he really would even one day die. We did, however, have a few moments that were sort of like this, where my father would take some time out to go get something to eat with me, and tell me some small but meaningful excerpt about life. Garland Briggs’ character, in a way, reminds me of my father in his eloquence and odd connections that he seems to have with celestial entities and “forest spirits”.

Now that I am soon to have my own son, I think of the significance of not only having these visions or dreams of him in happiness, despair, or whatever state he may be in, but the act of sharing them with him. If he is not receptive at the time, I know through my own experience that one day he will remember my words (or his words) and it may help him in some way.

In my “new life journal”, which is the only name I can think for my new aforementioned sketchbook, I thought of all of this while painting Garland’s closing remark “I wish you nothing but the very best in all things”. A man of simple words, also like my father, but not one word wasted, and at the same time, saying a lifetime of things.

The dialogue, in case you don’t feel up to watching the clip:

This was a vision, fresh and clear as a mountain stream, The mind revealing itself to itself.
In my vision, I was on the veranda of a vast estate, a palazzo of some fantastic proportion.
There seemed to emanate from it a light from within, this gleaming, radiant marble.
I’d known this place. I had in fact been born and raised there. This was my first return.
A reunion with the deepest well-springs of my being.

Wandering about, I noticed happily that the house had been immaculately maintained.
There’d been added a number of additional rooms, but in a way that blended so seamlessly with the original construction, one would never detect any difference. Returning to the house’s grand foyer, there came a knock at the door. My son was standing there. He was happy and carefree, clearly living a life of deep harmony and joy. We embraced, a warm and loving embrace, nothing withheld. We were, in this moment, one. My vision ended and I awoke with a tremendous feeling of optimism and confidence in you and your future. That was my vision of you. I’m so glad to have had this opportunity to share it with you. I wish you nothing but the very best in all things.

-Twin Peaks, Episode 8, “May the Giant Be With You”