Finding the words to reflect on and celebrate the life David Lynch is like attempting to shoot down a mourning dove: futile and unnecessary. Lynch was a visionary of his time because he understood that words only carry a story so far. 

The void Lynch leaves in Hollywood’s artistic tapestry was not a missing piece he filled; it was one he forged. His transcendental understanding of human nature surpassed what the mind typically seeks in beauty, horror and love, and he executed these visions in the most florid of surreal ways. 

Remembering a man like Lynch is no easy feat. His die-hard enthusiasts already know the ins and outs of his filmography, and those unfamiliar with him may not even know where to start. Born in Missoula, Montana, Lynch began pioneering his creative path as a painting student in the late 1960s. 

Desiring to paint a moving image, Lynch catapulted himself into the art of motion pictures. He depicted the best and worst of humanity, balancing warped evil against gratifying innocence, often in the most mundane of environments. 

Lynch debuted his cult sensation and cinematic odyssey “Eraserhead” in 1977, turning heads with intentionally shot black and white film and Jack Nance’s stoic yet brilliant portrayal of Henry Spencer.  

This body horror movie follows Henry, a well-mannered and timid man, who is driven into insanity following the discovery of his infant son. Unafraid to depict the disturbing — and even the appalling — Lynch’s breakout film is widely regarded as one of the most avant-garde, visceral mystery-horrors of its time.  

Nearly a decade later came “Blue Velvet,” which took home four awards from the National Society of Film Critics in 1987. The sultry suburban masterpiece explores the troubled psyche of Dorothy Vallens and the hero bearing a severed ear at her door, Jeffrey Beaumont, played by Lynch’s longtime creative partner, Kyle MacLachlan. 

Jeffrey finds himself willingly descending into the volatile world skulking just beneath Lumberton, North Carolina, a Midwestern town characterized by its beguiling façade. Both “Eraserhead” and “Blue Velvet” illustrate Lynch’s distinctive style of perturbed juxtapositions and the unsettling ambiguity born from dissonance. 

At the turn of the century, “Mulholland Drive” broke out onto the scene in true Lynchian fashion, with mystifyingly dreamlike scenes of Los Angeles and intentionally enigmatic plotlines that, still, have yet to be explained. 

A clever play on Hollywood as a dream catalyst and crusher, “Mulholland Drive” is believed to depict the all-too real delusions of budding actors whose spirits are perpetually shattered by the entertainment industry. Of course, that is just one interpretation; Lynch likely would have advised viewers to watch the film without digesting others’ theories. 

Lynch did just about everything except please the masses with his repertoire. He created art to invoke the deepest of questions about humanity — the ones that make people shudder, pause and take a deep breath. 

Although a void in cinematography formed when he died Jan. 15, the smell of cherry pie and echoes of cosmic murmurs from above remind us that dreamers like Lynch are never truly gone.

Reach Claire Vogl entertainment@collegian.com or on Twitter @CSUCollegian.