“I don’t want to deliver a fixed message—I want to create a space for curiosity, uncertainty, and contemplation.”
Summary:
Teye’s artistic practice bridges fine art, photography, and documentary, exploring themes of urban transformation, identity, and time. His winning work in the Didots Global Talent Competition, Keo Keo Ro, examines the regeneration and redevelopment of East London. In this interview with Didots, he discusses his transition from advertising to fine art, his exploration of London's shifting urban landscape, his experiences as an outsider and how they influenced his practice, and the evolving role of AI in image-making.
About Teye:
Teye, also known as Taejay Lee, is a South Korean visual artist working predominantly with photography, whose practice spans art, advertising, and documentary. He holds a BA degree from the University of the Arts London and an MA degree in Photography from the Royal College of Art, London. Since founding his darkroom and alternative process studio in 2019, Teye has focused on preserving 19th-century photographic techniques, specializing in the Platinum Palladium process, Cyanotype, and Cameraless photography while integrating digital technology and mixed media.
Didots:
Tell us more about your creative journey? What inspired you to study in the UK? I also noticed that you previously worked at Saatchi & Saatchi in Thailand. Could you share more about your transition from advertising to fine art?
Teye:
It’s a long story. I was born in South Korea, and when I was growing up, I never really liked being confined to a very small peninsula. I wanted to explore the world outside. I ventured first to Australia for school, then to the UK for a BA in Advertising. From there, I found work in advertising, moving between places and building my career. At that time, advertising was my way of engaging with creativity while making a living. I worked as an art director and eventually became a creative director before deciding to step away from advertising and dedicate myself fully to fine art and contemporary art. And here I am.
Didots:
Could you share more about your family background and how it influenced your decision to pursue a career in art?
Teye:
I was always a bit of a rebel growing up in Korea. There’s a saying, “you’re a green frog,” meaning you always do the opposite of what is expected. I liked going in directions others didn’t, finding my own way instead of following well-trodden paths. That personality probably drove me towards a career in art and creativity rather than something stable and predictable.
Advertising and design often prioritize financial and commercial objectives—like marketing strategies, brand value, and company profits. In contrast, fine art and photography are more personal and expressive. I see connections between advertising and fine art, even though they serve different purposes. Advertising creates economic value for a brand or client, while fine art is about expressing oneself and interpreting the world. But in both, you are curating an experience for an audience.
However, in advertising, the final decisions are ultimately dictated by the client’s financial and marketing objectives, which can limit artistic expression. After years of working within those constraints, I felt it was time to express my own perspective—not just shape a brand’s message, but share my own vision of the world.
Didots:
Tell us more about the inspiration behind your Didots winning work?
Teye:
My project, Keo Keo Ro (Korean for ‘layers’), is deeply personal. It connects to my family’s history in urban development—they’ve been involved in architecture and city construction for a long time. But instead of following in their footsteps, I took the “green frog flip” into advertising and now fine art.
When I moved back to London for my MA, I saw the city differently. It had changed, and so had I. London is a cultural melting pot, but it also has a way of making outsiders feel like they don’t entirely belong. Despite being educated here, working my first creative job here, and even obtaining a Global Talent Visa, I still feel a persistent sense of being an outsider. That feeling shaped my work.
Through street photography, I document the city’s layers—mixing new and old imagery, archives, and original photographs—to reflect on duality, displacement, and transformation. I suspect I’m not the only one who feels this kind of dislocation, and my work is about creating space for those emotions.
Didots:
Your photography seems to go beyond static images—it has a sculptural quality, incorporating multiple layers and different time periods. Do you see photography as a way to capture reality, or do you see it as a means to reshape and reinterpret it?
Teye:
I look at photography as something more fluid. I started as a street photographer, and I love that instantaneity, those moments when things come together, and you click. You’re hunting for a photograph, like Cartier-Bresson or Harry Gruyaert. I love the stories encapsulated in those frozen moments. But somehow, along the way of seeking my own voice, I couldn’t help but think about uncertainty and fluidity. As a person with a camera in hand, going around photographing, we are presenting a moment as truth, but it may not always be the case because it is only a fragment of a moment by the interpretation of the photographer who chooses to be there and photograph that thing, person, or scene in that specific way. For me, by embracing fluidity or movement, I am adding uncertainty to the image, the scene, the situation, and the decoding of the image.
I sometimes joke, la vida es movimiento—life is movement—so shouldn’t photography be dancing as well?
Didots:
Do you see your photography as a critique of urbanisation?
Teye:
I am presenting a lot of self-reflection or critique about society because I understand that modernization and progression are important in a society. But growing up in Korea, I was right in the middle of a time of change and urban transformation. Just before I left Korea to go overseas, strangely, the same phenomena is happening now in England, in the center of culture and the world. In the things I’ve seen—the beautiful progression aside—there’s always a dark side. It’s quite sad to witness as a human. We don’t seem to learn from past mistakes but repeat them over and over again.
The more I dug into the evolution and progression of London’s urban transformation, I was really surprised that these issues have been there for over 100 years, from the 1930s to the 2012 Olympics. It was continually built up, but no one ever found a solution to the issues around the people—only solutions for the place. So I’d say that sensation drove me to two different kinds of dreams: one, a dream of a utopia, the beautiful world I imagine we want to be in; and the other, a nightmare version of what we’ve forgotten and failed to achieve. These two things coexist and collide, I guess.
Didots:
You mentioned that you often feel like an outsider. Tell us more?
Teye:
That’s a good question. I’d really like to know that too because the funny thing is, the more you try to blend in and mingle into a culture different from your own, the more effort you put in, the more rejection you receive—at least to me. The same goes for the work I create. The more I try to mimic the vision or type of work appreciated in Spain, for example, the more alienated and rejected it becomes, treated as not me, not them, but something weird. So I don’t know. Maybe it’s because we’re in a globalized world, but we still think and form deep inside us a medieval mindset—like different tribes. You look different, so you must try to find a little realm of people more similar to you. People make that prejudice or judgment, and I think it’s dangerous.
And in talking about art, especially in the Western world, when people talk about Korean artists, they expect a certain composition, tonality, or use of specific materials. If you’re a Japanese photographer, they expect wabi-sabi or a certain trend. It’s probably not what the artist wants to express, but society draws its own boundaries and puts us, especially outsiders, into those boxes. Maybe I’m saying something really dangerous.
Didots:
Have you noticed any differences in how your work is received in different countries?
Teye:
Yes, definitely. There are certain differences, especially between Spain and the UK. The UK seems to appreciate diverse outsiders on the surface, and there’s a lot of government support and verbalizing issues of equality and equal opportunities. But I’m not sure they’re actually doing it right rather than just saying things right. In Spain, those topics are less discussed, especially in the art world. The country is more dominated by influence from its connection to Latin America and South American art, with many artists emerging and mingling with them. The art market and culture there are bound with that mixture of Latin American and Hispanic worlds.
In Britain, it’s more open to people from different continents and countries, with a wider audience mingling. So the agenda is different, the issues are slightly different, and the way people consume art is also a bit different. I think in Latin culture, it’s more visually driven—maybe because of the weather, the way people dress, and their outdoor lifestyle. Things are more vivid and focused on visual sensations and experiences. In Britain, it’s more conceptual and literature-driven because it rains a lot, and you read a lot indoors. So the works are more conceptually driven, challenging what society has already said or what has already been developed. Those are the things I personally notice.
Didots:
How has formal education in the UK versus independent artistic exploration shaped your work?
Teye:
I think British education is something debatable. It’s very expensive, but in a way, you get what you pay for—at least, that’s what I’d like to believe. That’s how it influenced me because, without all these influences, I wouldn’t be here today. I wouldn’t be able to understand contemporary art or contemporary art practice the way I do now. It’s really different compared to education in Korea or Spain, where you’re expected to be taught or led by the instructor or teacher, told what to read, what to do, and given homework.
In Britain, you’re expected to debate, discuss, and come up with your own logic to challenge what’s set as philosophy or theory. That naturally makes you more conceptual and literature-driven. It also depends on the person. Some might let go of everything and just finish the course, while others might think through and accept those challenges, digest them, and navigate their own way to utilize them best. The environment, especially in London, surrounded by galleries, museums, and resources, is on another level. I don’t know about New York, but in London, that’s one thing that influenced and challenged me every single day. I was getting mind-fucked because of the exposure to so many great things. It makes you feel like a dust in space because holy hell, there’s so much great stuff.
For example, you often think, “What the hell am I doing?” Then I go back, bang my head on the wall, and try to create something better.
So, yeah, the environment and education system challenge you, provoke you, and help you grow. Some artists I get inspiration from lately include Richard Mosse, an Irish-born photographer who works with pure photography but harnesses technology to reshape reality. His work is different—it’s not just about technology for technology’s sake but about how technology can bring out the story and persuade your perception of the world, perhaps helping you act on it and change the world. That kind of photography reshapes reality, I’d say.
Didots:
You use unconventional techniques in your photography, including methods that don’t involve a traditional camera. Could you share more about your process? Are you experimenting with any new techniques that push your work in a different direction?
Teye:
My fundamental practice is rooted in 19th-century techniques, specifically platinum and palladium printing—rare metals stronger than gold. Over time, my practice has evolved into collaging and de-collaging, making my work more sculptural and multi-dimensional.
Currently, I’m exploring how to expand my work beyond the traditional two-dimensional space, incorporating X, Y, and Z axes to create depth. I may integrate AI-generated imagery selectively, but as an artist, my focus is on whether technology enhances the work rather than using it for novelty.
Historically, the greatest photographers have always embraced the latest technologies available in their time. The key is making thoughtful choices about how these tools shape artistic expression.
Didots:
In today’s digital age, there’s often fear that traditional photography may become obsolete. What are your thoughts?
Teye:
Every technological shift sparks fear—radio, billboards, television, social media ads—but the world doesn’t end. Art evolves. The move toward AI and digital manipulation is often driven by corporate innovation, but traditional photography remains relevant and continues to evolve alongside new media.
More than 20 years ago, a Spanish photographer (Joan Fontcuberta) was already using US military-developed AI to create contemporary photography. Even then, debates about photography’s evolution existed. Today, rather than replacing traditional methods, digital tools expand artistic possibilities.
Didots:
Have there been any memorable moments where an audience member shared an unexpected interpretation or emotional response to your work?
Teye: