Introducing artist Joe Lichtenstein

Joe Lichtenstein moves between worlds—painting, theatre, animation—each a doorway into the same strange place. His work flickers between opposites: stillness and motion, solitude and connection, grief and joy. A frozen moment shifts. The inanimate breathes. Shadows move beneath the surface.

Within the darkness, there is light—colour, movement, the thrill of something breaking through. Whether on canvas, on stage, or in stop-motion, Joe searches for the place where stillness turns to motion, where the unconscious speaks.

Here we chat with him in more detail…

Can you tell us your backstory and how you got into the art world?

At thirteen, I began animating on my bedroom wall, captivated by bringing still images to life. I was inspired by seeing an animation by William Kentridge and set out to work out how it was done. In turn, I used it to show my inner world as a story through movement and shape. Since childhood, I’ve been fascinated by the interplay of light and shadow, presence and absence, and how environments shape perception.

That naive sense of discovery—allowing images to emerge rather than forcing them—remains the core of my practice. Theatre, animation, and painting became my languages for exploring this unfolding, each offering unique ways to access something beyond conscious thought. I studied art, then theatre, and now ten years on I find myself doing both and Kentridge now has one of my drawings.

How would you describe your signature style and technique?

My single line faces and moody black and white drawings, some that move, are my signature style. But it’s always shifting, morphing. My process is intuitive—almost choreographic. I work in conversation with the unseen, trusting that each image already exists somewhere, waiting to be revealed. My role is simply to bring it into view. I work in mixed media and always by hand. I’m fascinated by the delicacy of charcoal and the slowness of oil.

My work in theatre lends itself naturally to painting because both tell stories. Emotion in faces, that sense that something is happening or about to happen—that charged moment of anticipation. I love wide vast landscapes too. Empty but with marks of someone having been there. Barbed wire or a worn-in track. My most authentic work emerges when I listen rather than dictate.

Can you tell us about your latest work?

Where did you find inspiration and what is the story behind it? My recent work is an evolution of an earlier series I made called ‘The Party Series’—wild, untamed pictures drawn fast with paint tubes or homemade oil bars about the people I wished I could see during lockdown. It’s developed since then to often be about people or scenes I see in my dreams.

I’m very interested in the collective unconscious and the liminal space where ideas come from. Dreams too. I’m drawn to the shadow self, to elements we often avoid yet cannot escape. In paintings, this appears as the presence of the unknown—half-formed figures or spaces charged with something unspoken. There’s a moment when an image arrives fully formed, even if I don’t yet understand it. Some things aren’t meant to be explained, only felt—and that’s the space I work within.

Are there any exhibitions or events you are planning?

Currently, I’m focused on bringing my work into new spaces. My paintings will be featured in the Anglesea Road House, designed by Natasha Burton, and I’m exhibiting at The Old Grocery in Wivenhoe during the May bank holiday. I share my creative process and thoughts through my weekly MUSEletter, exploring creativity and the unconscious forces behind my art. I’ve just completed a new large-scale mural in Bristol. In the theatre, I’ll be the Associate Director on the new David Hare play in the Ralph Fiennes season at Bath Theatre Royal and later this year for The Spy Who Came in From the Cold in the West End.

What is the best advice you received as an artist?

“Perfection is in the imperfection.” A dear wise old friend, Joseph Berke, said this to me many years ago.

So now I trust the work fully. I follow where it wants to go rather than forcing it into what I think it should be. It’s powerful to know when to get out of the way.

For more information or commission requests please visit joelichtenstein.com.

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