Sydney Musings With Hyun Lee, The Filmmaker Finding Solace In Asian Grocery Stores And Mystic Beings

Sydney Musings is an original local series of intimate conversations tracing Sydney's creative undercurrent and exploring the enduring exchange between a city and the people inspired by it.

It's rare, in the world we now live in, to meet a creative who truly believes in the art of taking their time.

In the aftermath of the last decade, the world seems to be moving at breakneck speed in an attempt to make back the years lockdown stole from us—alongside a constant stream of media, reinforcing the sense that culture is being rinsed and replaced faster than ever.

And yet, filmmaker and director Hyun Lee doesn't feel the need to rush.

"I think I live a very meditative life," Hyun tells me.

"I often joke about the apocalypse—I jokingly fantasise about working in the mines when the creative industries have collapsed, because the robots have taken over."

Thankfully for audiences, the world hasn't collapsed just yet. Hyun will make her debut at Sydney Film Festival this month, but it's safe to say her recognition is long overdue.

Growing up in Eastwood, Hyun spent her childhood immersed in the area's largely immigrant community. She was raised in a highly multicultural school environment, constantly surrounded by Korean, Chinese, Indian and Sri Lankan cultural influences.

"Yeah, I was a pretty ridiculously shy kid," she says.

"I grew up around a lot of Asian grocery stores, which are, to this day, a safe space for me. If I'm feeling anxious or depressed, I go to an Asian grocery store."

She started her career in high school, working as a photographer for modelling agencies. From there, she moved into fashion films and music videos. Her first short film was made around 2013, after she dropped out of art school. It was this initial project that would eventually become French Girls, her debut feature, a decade later.

"I think I'm a creative person who has three ideas, and then spend ten years working on each one," Hyun laughs.

"French Girls is a good example of that, because it has literally been ten years."

The film was entirely made and shot in Sydney, following a young woman who is scouted while working on a construction site and her experience navigating the modelling industry. The result is a sharp, visually striking reflection on self-image, femininity and the tension between glamour and mundanity within the world of fashion.

Starring Mia Kidis (as Mia) and Daia (as Anya), Hyun's reflection on the industry is informed by years spent photographing models and quietly observing the spaces that exist around them. And yet, she sees the project as ever-responsive to its environment and collaborators—something shaped and reshaped by every hand that's touched it over the past decade.

As we talk, one observation in particular seems to encapsulate the way Hyun sees Sydney.

"There's a bit of a side story which shows these skateboarders who make clothes," she shares.

"One of them, who's in the film, was self-taught over YouTube tutorials during COVID—and he makes really well-made tailored things."

It may be a hidden niche to the mainstream viewer, but she sees these communities as a direct reflection of Sydney's untapped creative potential.

"I think this type of person is everywhere and they're not always visible, but you'll see them if you're looking for them," she says.

Ultimately, this was a project shaped not only by the people involved, but by the beating heart of the city itself.

"I think a lot of creative people fall back on this sort of lazy thing about complaining about how creatively starved they are in Sydney, how it's culturally behind," she says.

"Maybe we take for granted how culturally rich the city is. It's a bit of a colonial hangover—we still look to Europe as a cultural benchmark and say that Australia is a young country that doesn't have a lot of creative output."

"But Australia is not a young country. The Indigenous cultures here are the oldest living cultures in the world."

For Hyun, and for many others who have spent time learning and exploring the lesser-seen corners of our city, it feels as though we are on the precipice of a new wave. As we continue to talk, it appears clearer now, more than ever, that a growing optimism is emerging from the people helping shape the direction of local culture.

Just beyond the mainstream, artists, designers, filmmakers and writers—both fresh and established—are carving out spaces of their own, and gently reshaping the narrative of what it means to both live and create work in Sydney.

"I feel like there's this growing atmosphere of people caring less about validation from the outside, whether it's on a sort of very micro personal level or whether it's on the macro level," Hyun reiterates.

"The cultural cringe that used to exist around being Australian—almost being embarrassed about it—I feel like that is fading way into the past."

"I think a lot of places in Sydney just feel so alive."

For now, when she's not playing tourist, you might find Hyun tucked into a corner, sketching out her next idea.

"I often do a lot of writing in the form of essays or story writing," she explains, mapping out her creative process.

"A lot of that never sees the light of day, no one sees it, but it's my development of work to solidify the idea."

The ideas themselves she describes as "mystical entities" that visit her—she can't quite pinpoint where they come from, or why. An insight, perhaps, into the meditative pace at which she approaches her work.

"My influences and inspirations are so varied and diverse," Hyun muses.

"Sometimes it's the people around me, things that I've seen, things at work, things I've heard about from people around me, or films that I've seen and books that I've read."

"Having an idea is a really mysterious phenomenon to me. I don't know how it works, but they just come to you somehow."

Maybe that's why she feels so tethered to Sydney. Not because it's loud about what it has to offer, but because so much of it exists in fragments: fluorescent aisles lined with familiar snacks in an Asian grocer, the energy of Cabramatta's street-food scene, or flashes of tropical-looking fish weaving through the water at Gordon's Bay.

For Hyun, these places seem to offer the same thing as the many faces and voices she has spent years capturing through her lens.

Some cities ask for your attention immediately. Sydney, perhaps, asks for your patience.

You can secure tickets for French Girls at the Sydney Film Festival here.

Image credit: Hyun Lee | Supplied