Photography
Jackson Bowley
Date
2 March 2023
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Talking trash with the art world’s favourite comedian, Joe Lycett

It’s Nice That visits the studio of the comedian, painter, sculptor and much more to learn about his love of creativity, the relationship it has with standup and his new book – a homage to one of his favourite objects, bins.

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Photography
Jackson Bowley
Date
2 March 2023

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A Liz Truss dog toy, a penis made with a 3D printer, a painting of a topless Vladimir Putin fishing and a voucher for All Bar One are some of the items scattered around the studio of comedian Joe Lycett. It’s here, nestled amongst artist studios and start ups in an old custard factory in Birmingham, that you’ll find Joe making – be it paintings, pottery or political statements.

Although it’s his career as an “incredibly right-wing” comedian you’re likely to know him for, multifaceted art practices have always been a consistent outlet for Joe. The son of two creatives – his mum was a graphic designer at Cadbury, while his dad designed shop fronts prior to becoming a teacher – he soon inherited his parent’s love for good design. Later, he naturally progressed into graphics alongside performing, designing posters for other comedians “to supplement the income, which was basically zero from stand up”, he tells me.

As he rose in popularity on the comedy circuit from 2008, at first Joe was known “as a very cheap designer, about 50 quid a poster”. Creating works for the likes of Lou Sanders, Rob Beckett and sketch shows at the Edinburgh Fringe, his work at the time was a reaction to how “a lot of stand up posters are shit”, he says between laughing. “John Bishop has got one of the worst posters I’ve ever seen in my life, which is him holding a microphone. It’s a lot of someone putting their hand on their head, looking to the roof thinking of a joke. It’s so poorly thought out… And the fonts! I hate it.”

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“I don’t want to be wanky about it, but I just really enjoy making things.”

Joe Lycett

Despite an interview in 2011 stating that Joe loves both graphic design and comedy “equally”, throughout the 2010s his practice took a back seat as he became a household comedy name. Many will have grown to know Joe through his softly spoken tales of fighting establishment, from avoiding parking fines or complaining about the 30p charge to use the toilet at London Euston station. But there was always an element of performance to these tales which placed him into a more creative league of comedians. Recent stunts – like changing his name to Hugo Boss or pretending to shred £10,000 in reaction to David Beckham’s partnership with Qatar – have only cemented the idea that Joe Lycett is an artist rather than comedian. He’s like Marina Abramović, only from Birmingham rather than Belgrade, and a bit funnier.

However looking back through Joe’s output for the past decade, there are multiple details that display his excitable love for creativity. There are his now infamous paintings, of course, but also smaller flourishes like foil printing in his book Parsnips, Buttered, or the fact Mr. Bingo recently accompanied him on tour. “When I’m happy, I am happy to be making art and when I’m stressed, I use it as a crutch really,” he says of the role artmaking plays in his life. “I don’t want to be wanky about it, but I just really enjoy making things. I am under no illusion that I’m the best at any of the things I do, but I love trying them. For so long I wouldn’t do things because of the critic in my head saying ‘that’s terrible’, but nothing gets done then. I really want to encourage other people, and myself, to make stuff for the sake of making it.”

The latest project by Joe is more traditional than his previous artistic explorations, creating a beautifully designed book in homage to one of his favourite objects: bins. A fascination that began while filming his episode of Who Do You Think You Are, Joe caught the DOP on set “shooting this bin overlooking a really gorgeous scene of a farmyard”, he recalls. “I completely got why he was shooting it, I loved it. I took a picture and obsessed over it. Then, I just started shooting bins. And once you start looking for them, you can’t stop.”

Released in a limited run of 1,000 by fine art publishers Hurtwood, Bins, Bins, Bins plays with the boundaries of a book being a design object of its own. All the possible flourishes are featured, including an exposed spine and coptic bind, GF Smith paper stocks, Commercial Type’s font Lyon juxtaposed with Joe’s handwriting, and multiple foil techniques to create a cover “like a really gay bin bag”, all made in collaboration with designerBillie Temple. Inside are just under 100 photographs of bins Joe has taken, some from lockdown walks and others from his travels while filming. His favourite bins, in case you were wondering, include those “with a little worker bee embossed on them” in Manchester, or the Dutch approach where the shoot burrows beneath the pavement to make more room, which Joe describes as “stunning”. He despises the “horrible, PPE blue” colour choice of Lewisham County Council bins. “I’m like Bill Oddie seeing a rare bird – ‘Oooh it’s one of those bins’.”

In fact, “it’s the design element” that Joe truly loves about bins. “I really like symmetry and clear, defined shapes. I enjoy solid blocks of things. Bins are sort of ubiquitous, everyone has hundreds around them all the time, but they’re not really thought of as ‘design objects’. Yet somebody, somewhere has had to think about each one,” he details. “I also think they’re funny. The word ‘bin’ is funny and it’s also funny to dedicate a lot of time to this stupid thing. I always wanted to make a really nice book, to throw everything at it but not be too earnest and chin strokey. It had to be bins.”

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The bin as a piece of public design from a social anthropology stand point is also explored in Bins, Bins, Bins. One chapter features an essay by historian of protest, social movements and public space Katrina Navickas, detailing “the history of public bins and how they evolved – a lot of it is tied in with women’s rights, it’s a really interesting piece,” Joe explains. Elsewhere is a piece by Biffa employee Al Little, who Joe found via a Twitter call out. “I told him what the book was about, sent him some pictures of bins and he said: ‘Ah yes, the continental 1-100, she’s a beauty’. I thought he was perfect.” A comedic sentiment kickstarts the book, however, via an introduction from Joe as well as a foreword by actress and writer Daisy May Cooper (who famously went to the BAFTAs in a bin bag). “Her foreword is so funny,” adds Joe. “This is the last line of it: ‘Umm, what else do I know about bins? Daniel Lambert told me in year eight that bin men earn £100,000 a year, which I suspect might be a lie because he also told me that his dad was a ghost.’ That’s the stuff you’re getting from her.”

“I’m like Bill Oddie seeing a rare bird – ‘Oooh it’s one of those bins’.”

Joe Lycett

As shown in Bins, Bins, Bins, there is a constant connection to comedy in any piece of Joe’s visual output. The two are one of the same, requiring the same confident mindset of releasing a personal thought into the world in order to connect with others. “There is a sort of madness to doing stand up. You’ve got to have a desire to say something I suppose, or at the very simplest a madness to get you onto stage to show off – and with the level of threat that if the audience don’t laugh, you’re fucked,” he says. “It’s one thing to do a play or a monologue where there is a safety net, but to go on stage and just say what you think – and think that is a reasonable thing to do – is mad.” Joe Ponders whether this tendency of ignoring barriers others may falter at might put you in a “better position” to be a creative. “The psychology of it I don’t fully understand, but the huge barrier for loads of people to be creative is that they think they will be judged and they think it’s shit. That’s the thing I’d like people to get over.”

“The huge barrier for loads of people to be creative is that they think they will be judged and they think it’s shit. That’s the thing I’d like people to get over.”

Joe Lycett

For Joe, playing with both practices interchangeably benefits the other, too. “Often I’ll do a painting and it will make me laugh and I’ll put it in a stand up show – they become extra gags essentially. I don’t see them as separate things, really, they overlap.” This also leads the artist to endless possibilities of what his next project or medium may be. When discussing what he may turn his hand to next, “a huge rolodex of stuff” comes to mind, from 3D explorations and perhaps large-scale sculptures. His references are vast too, listing off the Escadaria Selarón steps he saw while filming an episode of Travel Man (“Immediately I thought ‘I'll just tile Birmingham’”), to recalling the moment he was moved to tears at a Turner exhibition (“I was like what the fuck has happened to me – I’ve gone mad!”).

Back in Joe’s studio, his archive of creative tools speak to any of these future possibilities. After all, his initial brief for the space was that he wanted it to be a “sweet shop for a creative” – and that it is. “If I want to be painting something that can be happening in seconds or if I want to make a film, I can do that. It's all there. Sculpture, whatever. And it does act like that! Every time I get into a new discipline I’m so excited by it.” Currently it’s ceramics he’s focusing on. “It’s such a lovely thing to gift people. Here is a plate that I made and you can have your dinner on it. Lovely.” Looking forward, it might be metal work – “I’m sure I’d love that” – or even “open a winery!” Joe lists. “Basically, I want to do it all but I haven’t got the time and, at some point, you just think it will have to be a book about bins then. I’ll focus on bins.”

Bins, Bins, Bins is available via Hurtwood books or Joe’s website directly here. All profits go towards Queens Heath Pride.

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About the Author

Lucy Bourton

Lucy (she/her) is the senior editor at Insights, a research-driven department with It's Nice That. Get in contact with her for potential Insights collaborations or to discuss Insights' fortnightly column, POV. Lucy has been a part of the team at It's Nice That since 2016, first joining as a staff writer after graduating from Chelsea College of Art with a degree in Graphic Design Communication.

lb@itsnicethat.com

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