I’m happiest when I flit between highbrow and lowbrow pursuits
September 20, 2024 12:00 pm(Updated 4:15 pm)
A friend of mine recently told me his approach to exploring a new city – a technique which he called, “high culture, low culture”. Essentially, it involves doing at least one thing that you might expect a visiting royal to do, and immediately after doing something cheap, trad or trashy.
A trip to London could involve going to see a Millwall match followed by dinner at The Wolseley. In Berlin, a night could begin at the Berlin Philharmonic and end with a sesh at Berghain, the famous techno club. In my home city of Birmingham I’d suggest seeing the Birmingham Royal Ballet before necking a Skittle Bomb in The Village Inn – a queer bar which puts on live cabaret shows and drag nights. You could finish by polishing off a Santorini halloumi wrap – a sort of middlebrow compromise.
It’s a simple way to approach life which I hadn’t heard of before – alas, the High Low podcast had entirely passed me by. This mix appeals to me because it offers a form of balance: an opportunity to avoid pomposity and to refrain from indulging in too much trash, but allows you to enjoy a little bit of both. Dare I say it, it offers a bit of perspective.
Up until recently my tendency would be to go through what you might call “cultural and gastronomic” phases. In lockdown there was a month or so where I basically only watched European art house films on MUBI whilst sipping natural wine. Then, suddenly, I realised I’d become a complete tosser, and got myself a Fray Bentos pie, some San Miguels and binged Love Is Blind. That started a period of buying food from the corner shop that I’d had as a kid, like Brain’s Faggots, tinned peas, frozen fish and chips – and watching endless episodes of Selling Sunset.
My craving for Brains Faggots might’ve just been a deficiency in whatever Brain’s Faggots gives you (salt?). But perhaps it was more philosophical than that. Essentially, my body said: “You’ve seen enough lingering wide shots of rural France where not much happens. You need to do something real.” In my naivety I thought that meant I had to confine myself to eating and watching trash (and only trash).
I hadn’t considered I could say, watch Selling Sunset with a glass of natural wine. Or watch an obscure Isabelle Huppert film with a box of 20 nuggets. It turns out watching something chin-strokey helps mop up the BBQ sauce.
Some would say that there are no longer defined “high and low” offerings, and that the two categories have in fact merged. It’s true, there are a few things that tick off both options at once. With food I’d say the upmarket tinned fish trend is the perfect example. A tin of tuna is something I once associated with a lad called Simon I knew at school who used to flick his scabs out of the window of the number 11 bus.
But recently tinned fish has had a cultural renaissance. One company, which sells “cantabrian tuna in olive oil” in a beautifully designed box, describes the act of putting fish in a tin as “an art form”. I am inclined to agree… But key point: it’s a tin of fish. It’s also low culture.
And then stand-up comedy, by its very nature, is low culture. Wanting to make people laugh is needy and desperate, and wanting to be made to laugh is just as bad. But then you see someone sublime like James Acaster, and you’re getting high and low all at once. Yes I’m comparing James Acaster to a tin of fish.
What’s my conclusion about following a high/low “diet”? It offers wisdom, balance, and self-reflection. It reminds us that when we strip back the artifice of our chosen identities, that we are all the same really, neither one thing nor another. Every one of us can and should be able to enjoy all things: operas are for paupers and kings must dance in gutters.
So I’d encourage everyone to find time each day to do something highbrow and lowbrow. Oh, and one way you can do both at once is through my book, Art Hole. Yes, it is essentially a collection of weird art and silly stories, but it is also an “artist’s monograph”, which is about as high art wankfest as you can get. Think of it as a cross between Marina Abramović and Timmy Mallett (the Serbian conceptual performance artist and the guy who runs around with a giant foam mallet). Or if you don’t want to do that, make yourself a chip butty and watch The Great Beauty by Paolo Sorrentino.
This week I have been…
Reading… Alain de Botton and John Armstrong’s exceptional book Art As Therapy. Art is thought of as this very important, mysterious thing but often I leave a gallery thinking: “What was all that about?” This book gives a lot of answers and I think might be an essential read for all curators, people who work in galleries, and anyone who loves art.
Watching… On the days I’ve been too tired to read I’ve been rewatching the Nick Clegg “I’m sorry” video that was remixed into an electro banger; John Travolta trying to announce Idina Menzel at the Oscars; Ed Miliband telling Jeremy Paxman that he’s “tough enuss”; and a series of ASMR videos of women gently checking you into a complicated hotel.
Listening… Zero 7 is one of my all time favourite artists, and they have released a new album under the moniker Swim Surreal called In The Half Light. I live a fast-paced lifestyle where I constantly walk down corridors and scream at junior people so I sometimes find it difficult to relax. Alongside getting acupuncture from Tommy from Groundforce, this album has been helping me to switch off after a busy day, and my favourite track is “An Endless Wave”. Other than that I’ve been listening to white noise and the Today programme on Radio 4 (they are the same thing to me).
Thinking… A lot about what it would be like if all humans could turn their heads like owls. Would it seem rude if you spoke to someone with your body pointing away from them but your head turned to face them? I think probably, but perhaps not? Would it actually be that useful to be able to fully turn our heads? If you’re trying to not startle prey it’s really handy to move your head like that so as not to make any unnecessary sounds. But then, I am never EVER worried about startling prey, so maybe an ability to 360 turn my head isn’t something I need? I am writing this at 3am.
‘Joe Lycett’s Art Hole’ is published in hardback, audio and eBook on 26 September (Trapeze, £35)
