Jeremy Lynch is a great friend of ours and he’s been one for a long time. There’s a perfectly good reason for that: he’s a kind and good dude for one thing, but one who always puts the creative act above all else — an artist in the purest sense of the word. We always gravitate to those types and he has been that since I met him many years ago.

We’ve done several projects with Jeremy recently and they all either win awards or redefine something you thought you knew but truly had no idea about — including the now award winning piece on Race and Surfing: A Brief History with Selema Masekela and the defining profile on surfing’s kick-flipping magician Zoltan Torkos: The Surfing Magician. Both are two of our favorite things we’ve ever done. His documentary work and surf film work are some of the best our culture has produced and his work is always ahead of it’s time. Peruse his site Two Dollars Please for a journey through culture, art and curiosity.

This weekend he’s debuting a series of paintings that mean a lot to him at Daydream Surf Shop on Saturday night for his new show: Afraid of the Dark in a Room Full of Light. You should definitely be there to check this.

In all the years we’ve worked with him, we’ve never had the chance to really sit down and ask him about his creative work, so we did just that today. Stay tuned for more this week from Jeremy in lead up to his show Afraid of the Dark in a Room Full of Light.—Travis Ferré

Inherent Bummer: Where did you come from? What’s your origin story?

Jeremy Asher Lynch: I was born on a chicken farm in Hebron, Maryland and within a few years moved near Ocean City. My childhood was a blur of new faces and new places, bouncing between schools and states almost every year. From Maryland to Alaska to California to Florida, I was the perennial new kid, standing in the lunchroom, trying to figure out where to sit.

Skateboarding was truly the genesis of all things art for me. Eventually expressing myself became my way of making sense of the whirlwind — turning trauma into art. I realized the only way to deal with it all was to transform it into something meaningful. That’s what I do with my art, writing, and film — I take aspects of my life and turn them into something people can hopefully relate to.

At 8, I got a PXL-2000, a camera that filmed on cassette tapes, and I made ninja movies. For my 10th birthday, I got my first surfboard. By 15, I started filming skating and my life on a Sony Hi-8 camcorder. Dropped out of high school at 17, found myself working in fine dining restaurants, and by 20, I was living in a dilapidated house in Jax Beach, FL — a hangout for hippies, musicians, addicts, and artists. That was the first time I was not only encouraged to make art but it became a way of life when we weren’t surfing.

Got my first Mini-DV camera soon after and started filming surfing, learning to edit on a shitty PC. Made my first surf edit and got hooked. Went to film school at 21 in Orlando, and after graduating, made my first feature-length surf film in Los Angeles. Life took a turn — I gave up on my filmmaking dreams, got married, had kids, and laid tile and stone flooring for years. Then I saw “Dithers,” a street art film that sparked something in me. I started wheat-pasting drawings with a friend around Fort Walton Beach, FL, and that reignited my passion for painting.

Within a few years, I was showing my work in LA galleries. Entered a contest and caught the eye of Shepard Fairey, leading to a collaboration with Dr. Martens for their first-ever Artist Series boot. That was the push I needed to move back to LA with my family and pursue art. I’m self- taught in painting—everything I do is based on feeling, not technique.

Thought I was moving to LA to be an artist, but film pulled me back in. After years as an editor and cinematographer, I started directing, mainly in the documentary field. Since then, my paintings have hung in galleries in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Washington D.C., Barcelona, and London. I’ve directed projects for Apple, Google, T-Mobile, Cadillac, and Samsung, but my raw, unfiltered paintings truly capture my essence. My paintings come from the need to get pent-up emotions out of me.

What is Two Dollars Please?

Two Dollars Please started as my graffiti moniker and evolved into the umbrella under which all my creations fall — paintings, photography, films, and writings. It's a tribute to my best friend, Kevin James, who left this world far too young. Kevin was the one who introduced me to comicbooks, punk rock, hip hop, girls, and the wild ride of drugs and alcohol. He was the smartest and funniest person I've ever known, even to this day.

In his 20s, Kevin worked for a traveling carnival, running the "Fool the Guesser" game. He was a master on the microphone, with his catchphrase, "Step right up, fool the guesser, Two Dollars Please!" I always loved that saying. Somewhere in storage, there's a sign from that carnival that says Two Dollars Please. I hope it finds its way into my hands one day. Kevin died at 29, and I'm forever grateful for him and his influence on my life. Two Dollars Please is my way of keeping his spirit alive in everything I create.

You’re a multi-faceted artist, (filmmaker, painter, writer, photographer, etc).what do you think your natural artistic language is?

Painting came from a deep-seated need to process emotions. It's the medium that allows me to dig into the darkest corners of my psyche. Filmmaking, on the other hand, has been my way of telling stories — both my own and those of others. It's a collaborative effort that pulls together visuals, sound, and narrative into one cohesive whole.

Painting is a solo endeavor while filming is a team effort. Over time, I've gravitated towards combining these mediums. My paintings often tell a story, much like my films, and my films often carry the emotional weight and visual intensity of my paintings. Photography and writing are natural extensions of this blend, each offering a different lens through which to view the world and tell its stories. In the end, my natural artistic language is rooted in storytelling. Whether it's through the brushstrokes of a painting, the frame of a camera, or the lines of a script, I'm always seeking to connect, to relate, and to share the sadness and beauty I see in the world. Each medium feeds into the others, creating a continuous loop of inspiration and expression.

How would you describe your art?

It’s an emotional exorcism, a way to process and transform my experiences into something relatable and visually compelling. Each piece is a story, often blending the lines between reality and surrealism, capturing moments that are both intensely personal and universally human. I gravitate towards the melancholy. Whether it’s a painting, a film, a photograph, or a piece of writing, my art is always about connection—reaching out through the distortion to touch something real and true in the viewer.

Tell us about what led to these paintings and this show?

About four years ago, I dove into painting with oils, and that's when this series started to take shape. Each piece is like a palimpsest, layered with 4-5 paintings underneath. Why so manylayers? Well, sometimes I get bored or frustrated with an idea and decide to start fresh. It’s like the paintings themselves decide whether they want to live or not. The process adds a raw richness, a depth you can feel, like history buried under the surface. This show is the culmination of that evolving dance—years of painting over and starting anew. Each layer adds to the story, creating a tapestry of emotions and moments. It’s about the journey, the messy evolution, and the relentless quest for clarity amid the confusion, inviting you to peel back the layers and uncover the hidden stories within.

We all have “that one” artist/musician/writer/painter/person who put us on this artistic path. Who is that for you?

For me, it's Spike Jonze. His films, music videos, and photography were so inspirational to me. He worked with all the coolest people and made his own incredible films. But he came from skating. As cliché as it might sound, being a 90s kid, Spike Jonze was my guy. He showed me that you could come from the skate world and still make art that resonated on so many levels.

You rip. Have you ever been in a surf contest? Why or why not?

Haha, thanks. I surfed one contest in New Smyrna Beach, FL when I was around 25 and somehow managed to get 2nd place. The waves were one foot and mushy in the final, and I think I just did a bunch of 360's. Spin to win, right? The guy who won was way better than me. The whole thing gave me so much anxiety that I never entered another contest. It was fun but definitely not my scene.

Layback on the Gulf Coast. PHOTO: Tim Carr (@tc_surf)

Who/what inspires you?

My family and my life. They're the heartbeat behind everything I create. Every moment—whether it's wild or serene—feeds into my art. My family grounds me, while my life provides the endless stream of stories and emotions that fuel my creativity. The only way I can truly tell my story is through my art. It's all about capturing the essence of those I love and the journey we're on together, in all its messy, beautiful reality. I find inspiration in the mundane, in the overlooked, in the things that people see but don't really see. For me, a gum wrapper on the street can be a work of art, if I choose to see it that way. With people, I find that moments of pause or freeze are the most interesting, because they're the moments when people are the most vulnerable, when their true selves are exposed. It's like the saying goes, 'still waters run deep,' and I think that's especially true for people.

What do you listen to in your car if you have to run an errand that takes 45 minutes?

It could be a toss-up between “Demon Days" by Gorillaz, “Teenager of the year" by Frank Black, ”Blowout Comb” by Digable Planets, “Hard to Earn” by Gang Starr, or “Dire Straits” by Dire Straits to name a few. But honestly, I often just dive into my recent most liked songs on Spotify, which I'm constantly updating. Keeps things fresh and unpredictable, just the way I like it.

It’s an average Tuesday, couple waves around, what’s your day look like beginning to end?

Coffee and meditation to start, and some reading to wake up the mind. If the waves are fun and I'm not tied up with work, I hit my shitty beach break with the local homies, trying to pretend I still surf like I did in my 30s. After surf, it’s a mix of working out, some yoga, oatmeal, and a walk down by the beach. If inspiration strikes, I hang in the studio and make a mess splashing paint around. By afternoon, I'm thinking about dinner and setting those plans in motion. Cooking is a passion. The day usually winds down with a show or a movie with my wife. I'm simple, really.

Who has your favorite style?

Surf: Right now I’m loving Ian Crane. I’m goofy foot, so that’s my dude.

Skate: My son Jonah (@jonahkhenderson) is my favorite skater. He has effortless style reminiscent of Dennis Busenitz and Nate Jones, but really he has his own thing going.

Fashion: Daniel Day Lewis. While I dress nothing like him, I appreciate his taste.

**What can we expect from your show Afraid of the Dark in a Room Full of Light? What’s on display?**

Afraid of the Dark in a Room Full of Light is a journey through the shadows and the light of life. Most of the paintings are monochromatic, using shades and tones to reflect the complexity and nuance of emotions. You can expect a series of raw, emotional paintings that dig deep into the human experience. Each piece is layered with stories, textures, and moments that reflect my own journey. From skate culture to personal loss, every painting is a testament to finding light in the darkest places. It's an exploration of contrast and duality, capturing the beauty and struggle of existence. Come ready to see the world through my eyes—messy, beautiful, and unapologetically me.

It’s not the end of the world.

Jul 30 Interview: Artist Jeremy Asher Lynch