Julian Opie interviewed for the March issue of Eloquence Magazine, in connection with his solo exhibition at Kukje Gallery.

• This is your second solo exhibition in Seoul. I imagine this would be your second visit to Korea?

No, I have been to Seoul a number of times for various group shows and commissions. My family and I like Seoul very much, the weather, the food, the people, the museums. I always tell people it’s such an incredibly modern city, but I also recognise that there is a strong sense of tradition there. It’s hard to describe, but I like the colour scheme of Korea very much; it's a very particular range of colours that are used. I have tried on occasion to incorporate this into my work.

• Have the citizens of Seoul inspired you enough to create new work for this particular show? Please tell us about your current artworks for Kukje Gallery.

I try to avoid the word inspired – it is overused. When Kukje asked me to make another show at their gallery, I felt I had just enough time to make a new project based on the people walking on the streets of Seoul. I had made such a project in London around my studio, but wanted to see what would happen in another country. I arranged for a photographer to take pictures of people walking on the busy streets of Seoul. He received a set of instructions and sent literally thousands of photos that I sifted through. I then based some new paintings on combinations of these people. This is the core of the show. I allowed the quality of light and the style of clothing to dictate the way in which I drew the people, and this has made for some quite different paintings from the London series. The colours are bright, the clothes are complex and quirky and there are many accessories. The people in the London paintings tend to be dressed in black and grey, they are bundled up and since I work near the City district, they are relatively conservative.

I have combined these new paintings with some moving paintings of people walking in London. We filmed people walking in the parks and by the river, and I have turned these films into drawn animations that are then played in various ways as endless paintings of street scenes. Kukje gallery is rather large so it takes a while to describe the show – perhaps I’ll leave the rest of the work as a surprise?

• You appeared on the art scene in the early 80s before the so-called YBAs (Young British Artists) came into the spotlight. What was it like to be represented as an artist in London back in those days?

I started exhibiting in 1983, just out of art school. Of course it was very exciting to have a presence so soon, but I was aware that London was a fairly quiet place for art. Everyone talked of New York, Los Angeles, Cologne, Paris, Dusseldorf, Chicago, Amsterdam. Since then, energy and focus has spread and dissipated. I think the world of art is much broader and perhaps artists have the possibility to work from where they want to rather than follow the bright lights. London of course has become a very active art centre with important museums and art fairs and galleries. I don't tend to spend too much time thinking about all this, I get on with life and work and my next project and I accept the shows and commissions that are offered – usually! When you start out, it feels super important to get a review, to be noticed, to show in ‘the right place’. It is the luxury of age and a long CV to not be so concerned about that anymore.

• I want to ask about your beginnings as an artist. Have you always been interested in specific types of art or in making your own art since your childhood?

Pictures, images, the way things look, is central to me. It is the way I understand and interact with the world. I have always gazed at the world, content just to take it in. Well, not content I suppose, rather I need to react to what I see, to make something of it. In order to understand and to possess, I need to draw. I have been drawing every day since childhood. There is a sense of practice involved, and learning, but it is also addictive, like a good book or computer game. I am lucky, every day I get back to drawing whatever is exciting me. I don't really know what I am going to do beyond the next few months. I make things and see what unfolds, what becomes possible. Things in the world shout out to me, the way a boat rolls on the waves, the way a crowd of passing people look if you stand still and take it all in as a scene, as a choreographed scene. This can also be another work of art. A Japanese woodblock print of a landscape or a Roman marble portrait bust. I see something there that I understand, that I could use, that I could relate to my world.

• Many of your outdoors LED pieces share the steady rhythm of ‘walking’ with the public. How did this particular movement catch your eyes?

I drew people when I was young but moved away from them quite quickly, perhaps feeling that drawing people was too locked into an outdated tradition. As I found ways to include more aspects of the world around me it became strange to be avoiding the thing that perhaps interests me and other people the most. I looked to art history and to contemporary signage to find a way to draw people that was fresh and real. Having found a way, I became fascinated with the possibilities. People standing, sitting, lying, walking, dancing, running. Close up portraits, detailed and simple. I have been working through these possibilities for some years now as the language evolves and I find new ways to draw, and new art to guide me.

• These public art works are distributed throughout the world. Does the response differ from country to country? I wonder if you have ever bumped into your ‘LED walking figures’ unexpectedly?

I think I know where all my public commissions are. Sometimes the ones in London can take me by surprise, especially if they are temporary installations. LED's have a way of piercing your eye from a great distance and reflecting in every shiny surface. Unfortunately I can’t go and see every work of mine that gets installed, but I try.

• Originally, most of your works were paintings first. You took those and continued to explore various different media including photography, sculpture, installation, animation and film. I wonder what’s next. What would be a new challenge in terms of art forms?

Come and see the show!   

• I read that you were always most interested in what you are surrounded by at that time. If I remember right, you called it your own obsession. What are your current obsessions and in what way do they serve as inspirational sources for your work?

I guess I have answered that question. I tend to draw what is in front of me. I don't really know how to make things up, and I like to start afresh rather than use existing imagery. I only understand making art by starting from a very simple way, it's possible to talk about this afterwards and see connections and make theories, but the process itself interests me more. I gather information, ways of drawing, ways of displaying, and I play with them. Having finished making the work for Seoul, I am now going to focus on a show in Poland. Here, the main new theme will be nature, and movement within nature. Gnats flying, waves on the shore line, fish swimming upstream, trees sliding past you as you move through a forest…

• Do you work on something every day or do you keep breaks for your creative mind to rest and recharge? If so, what does Julian Opie do on a day off?

I am usually at the studio every day of the week, from school drop off time till early dinner with the children. Like most people I suppose. I gather material and notice things when I am not at the studio; when I am travelling on holiday or for work. Moving through the world one notices things more than when simply living in it. We take long holidays and often go to the same places, fairly remote places, where we walk and cycle and swim. I love to look at art, at museums, to see things from the past.

• Please describe your studio, i.e. the one sacred place where the magic happens.

Sacred? I don't know what that means. I work in a Victorian warehouse in East London near the City and Saint Paul's Cathedral. I employ about eight people who help me push things along, and we use any number of small factories and fabricators. Most things are drawn and then processed on the computer, but I move around the studio in between drawing, discussing, planning and refining.

• How do you feel about artistic partnerships and things like brand or product collaborations?

Not good really. I need to do things my way or I lose track of what I’m doing. I don't like input from others much. I collaborated with a choreographer recently and showed some of the work that resulted in my last show at the Kukje Gallery. This was productive, but I am wary of getting involved in branding. I think the one-to-one relationship with the people who look at an artwork is very important, and advertising and branding confuses that process. It is manipulative and has an agenda and I want to avoid that.

• With no need to mention your work on the cover of Blur’s ‘The Best Of’ album, you are best known for your portrait paintings. How do you choose your characters, and do you know all the figures you pick? If so, what’s your relation to them?

This can happen in various ways. I need models to follow through my ideas. All people are great to draw. I sometimes look at the people sitting opposite me on public transport and imagine drawing each one but for certain projects certain types work better. I might ask a friend or family member to sit for me, or I accept a commission from a collector if the timing is right. The recent project of drawing strangers on the street has added something that I like. These people are ‘wild’, they do things I could not have planned or choreographed, they are real in a new way. If I ask a model to hold an apple, it is self conscious. A person on the street sipping orange juice through a takeaway cup is very different.

• Many young artists struggle with their first steps when getting in touch with galleries. Your case is quite the opposite. Right after graduating Goldsmiths, University of London, you had your first solo show at Lisson Gallery in 1983. How did that come about?

In those days, art students had no idea about galleries or the art world. I simply assumed that I would make work and show it and that is what happened. Looking back I see how lucky I was and perhaps how driven and determined.  Making and showing work comes naturally to me – if you leave me on a beach for long enough, I am making sand sculptures and people are stopping to look at them. I enjoy making art and I allow that to lead me.

• I assume your works at the graduate show really left a great impression on people. What exactly was it, and how has your artistic path and style evolved from those works to what you’re doing now?

That is the largest question of all of these. It was over thirty years ago that I made my graduate show, but I feel I am doing the same things really. I have more resources and experience, but possibly less energy. I think I trust my instincts more and spot a dead end more quickly. I circle around the same interests and processes and the results are surprisingly consistent, I think, and yet I am never satisfied and always keen to try the next idea out.