In conversation with Jules Julien

You spent two years working closely with the Obama Foundation on this project and you mentioned President Obama himself provided input during the making of 'All Together'. Was his involvement more on a conceptual level, the vision, the themes, or did it also reach into the visual decisions? And were there moments where his input genuinely surprised you?

I met President Obama at several key moments throughout the creative process of the digital mural All Together. When the Obama Foundation first contacted me three years ago to invite me to create the work, the eleven themes had already been defined and approved by President Obama, as had the concept of the circular screen. They were looking for an artist to bring the installation to life visually.

The first phase of the project focused on developing the overall creative vision and design. My role was to release the creative and artistic direction of the project—from the overall design to the visual language and motion.

After this first phase, I met with President Obama and Valerie Jarrett to present the project through a series of sketches. During that first presentation, President Obama immediately knew what felt right and what could be improved. He had a very clear vision of what he wanted the installation to communicate to visitors. He never questioned the overall visual concept or artistic direction, but he reacted instantly whenever a particular scene didn't fully align with his vision.

The last time I met him was a few months before the opening for the presentation of All Together in the museum on its final screen. The only thing that surprised him was discovering that every single one of the more than one million dots had been placed and coloured by hand. He hadn't realised that nothing had been generated automatically. He was genuinely amazed by the process and by the level of commitment it required.

Over a million dots, placed and colored one by one by hand. How do you even begin something like that, what was the first day in the studio like when you started 'All Together'?

I worked as an art director and creative director for many years in Paris before becoming a full-time artist. That experience taught me how to articulate ideas and structure a creative process. Even today, I approach my work in the same way. I create stories in order to create artworks. I need a narrative—I have never been particularly interested in decorative art. I always want to tell something.

Before starting a commissioned work of this scale, you have to make sure that everything has been thoroughly tested and validated before beginning the final artwork itself. Once the drawing starts, corrections are no longer really an option. When every dot is placed by hand, moving a single one means adjusting all the surrounding dots as well. That is why I spent the first six months developing the concept of the mural and thinking through every detail: from the main drawings to the landscapes, from the color palette to the size of the dots. I wanted every dots to be exactly the same size, I think there is something meaningful about that—it resonates with the idea of democracy.

The next step was to develop the motion and determine how the animation would behave on such a large circular immersive screen. How should the dots move? How should they come together to form images and then separate again? How would the visual language interact with the participatory part of the experience, where visitors are invited to add their names to the mural and feel that they are literally joining the dots?

To answer all these questions, I travelled to Chicago many times to test every aspect of the installation on large prototype screens, almost the same size as the final one, which had not yet been built.

Once every element had been tested, refined and approved, I was finally able to begin drawing the finished artwork.

You’ve worked with dots before in earlier work. Was 'All Together' a continuation of that, or did this project give the dot an entirely new meaning for you? And looking at the result, does it open up new directions?

The dot is a recurring element in my work. It is a form that keeps coming back in different projects, although not always in the same way. It isn't always drawn as a perfect geometric shape. In my Blackout series, for example, every dot is drawn by hand and none of them is perfectly round. I use the dot in different ways: sometimes as a graphic symbol, as in my installation No Man's Land at the French Embassy in Tokyo; sometimes as a reflective surface, like the small mirrors in Narcisse for my solo show at Diesel Gallery in Tokyo; but most often I use it almost like a pointillist brushstroke, patiently drawing figurative images one dot at a time.

I love the simplicity of the dot. To me, it is the most fundamental natural geometric form. You find it everywhere in the universe, from the shape of planets to the structure of cells.

The team at the Obama Foundation was very enthusiastic about the fact that I will place every single dot by hand because it brings a strong sense of humanity to the mural. You can feel the emotion and the craftsmanship behind every drawing. In a way, the process itself becomes part of the artwork. It's almost like a performance. A kind of 'Yes We Can', but on my own scale: 'Yes, I Can' patiently place and color more than one million dots by hand to create a piece. If that dedication can inspire people and remind them of what is possible through commitment and perseverance, then it becomes another layer of the work. Creating is giving, right?

This was also the first time I had worked with dots of this particular size. They aren't large, but they are large enough that they force you to move away from pure realism. That constraint was actually very interesting because it pushed me to simplify forms while keeping them expressive.

Working on landscapes was also something quite new for me. My personal work usually relies on much simpler, more minimal compositions. The same is true for color. I generally use a very restrained palette, often even monochromatic. Here, I worked with more than 200 colors. For me, that rich palette became another way of celebrating diversity.

Your work usually exists as a still image. 'All Together' is interactive, animated, alive and displayed on an immersive circular screen that visitors can actually walk into. How did the work come to life technically, and who did you need to bring in to make that happen? Did the spherical format pose specific challenges for the way the images were built?

It was one of the most exciting parts of the project because animation was never an afterthought—it was part of the concept from the very beginning. I had never worked on an animated installation at this scale, although some of my previous works already included moving elements. From my very first presentation boards, the behaviour and movement of the dots were already defined.

I wanted the dots to behave like a murmuration of birds when they gathered together, and like fireflies when they moved individually. Looking at nature gave an obvious logic to the animation. The concept of the work is that each dot represents an individual, and together they form figurative images. The dots therefore had to feel alive—not like particles of dust carried by the wind, but like active beings with intention and purpose. Using these references, I began by creating storyboards. 

I worked for several months with Bryan Heisey at Cortina Productions on the motion design. We started remotely, testing every element one by one. Later, we met twice in Chicago for two weeks of work directly on the final circular screen. Animating and making interactive more than one million individual dots was an extraordinary technical challenge. We continued refining the installation until just one week before the opening.

One of the most remarkable aspects of the circular screen is that it has no beginning and no end. The eleven scenes continuously appear and disappear. Every visitor experiences the installation differently. Because the screen completely surrounds you, it is impossible to see everything at once. Wherever you choose to look, something else is happening somewhere else. I like that idea. It makes every visit unique.

The final stage of the project was the music, which gives the installation its soul. I worked with Jeremy Bloom, who composed an original soundtrack for All Together. Our collaboration began with a conversation in which I shared the atmosphere I was looking for through a series of keywords, references and emotions. We met in Chicago in April to work directly inside the installation. We immediately understood each other, and the collaboration felt completely natural. I love the soundtrack he created—it truly brings the installation to life.

You’re a French artist, based in Amsterdam, making work for one of the most politically charged institutions in America. Did that distance help or complicate things?

I would say it helped. Being an outsider gave me a certain perspective. It is often more difficult to speak about yourself—or even to understand yourself—than it is to look at something from the outside. That distance gave me space and helped me approach the project with a certain emotional clarity.

At the same time, this work was created for a very broad audience. The themes it explores—health, education, climate change, community—are universal. They are not exclusively American concerns; they belong to all of us. One of the scenes, for example, shows people gardening together. I myself take part in a community garden on my street in Amsterdam alongside my neighbours.

The installation comes on the fifth floor at the very end of the exhibition dedicated to the presidency of President Obama and Mrs. Obama. The mural is displayed beside one of President Obama's quotes: "I'm asking you to believe. Not in my ability to bring about change—but in yours." Within the narrative of the exhibition, it represents a moment of celebration for what has been achieved, but above all it is an invitation to look forward. Rather than encouraging nostalgia, it asks visitors to reflect on the role they can play in shaping the future.

Two years is a long time to live inside one project. Were there moments where you doubted it and what kept you going?

To be honest, I enjoyed every moment of it. Today, we are increasingly expected to produce everything in the short term. The pace of the world keeps accelerating—with social media constantly demanding new content, and now AI generating images and text in a matter of seconds. I believe that working over the long term is one way of resisting that frenzy. We need time to think, to live and to grow.

Time has always been a fundamental component of my work. My creative process is deliberately slow because it forces me to think before I create. Being given the time to make a work like this is, in itself, an act of value and resistance. Time is probably the most precious thing we have, so giving your time to something—or to someone—is perhaps the greatest gift you can offer.

During those two years, I put almost everything else in my life on hold so I could fully immerse myself in the project. Outside the studio, I also spent a great deal of time learning more about the United States. I read History of the United States by Bertrand Van Ruymbeke, as well as all the books written by President Obama and Mrs. Obama. I also read novels and essays by American writers and thinkers such as James Baldwin, Martin Luther King Jr., Langston Hughes, Joyce Maynard, Nathan Hill and Stephen Markley. Looking back, those two years became a genuine immersion in American history, culture and society. I like to think of them as an encounter with the United States.

This commission often felt like an enormous puzzle waiting to be solved. At times, I felt like the child I once was, sitting on the floor of my bedroom, building with Lego bricks. There was the same sense of curiosity, concentration and joy. But I never really felt alone. Throughout the entire process, I kept thinking about the future visitors of the museum—what I wanted them to experience, what emotions I hoped they would leave with, how much hope and optimism I wanted the installation to convey. In a way, those future visitors were always present in my studio, even if only in my imagination.

The project also gave me the opportunity to step back from my own career and reflect on both my past work and what comes next. I think it is important, as an artist, to regularly remind yourself why you chose this path in the first place, and to make sure you never lose sight of it. Art is one of the things that makes us deeply human. I believe artists have an important role to play in society.

The museum opens with work by Nick Cave, Jenny Holzer, Njideka Akunyili Crosby, Mark Bradford and Maya Lin among others, an extraordinary group. Does the company you’re in change how you see your own work?

Now that this chapter is closing, what comes next? Will you be returning to your own studio practice and can we expect new work at Bisou, maybe new prints?

During those two and a half years, I accumulated countless notes, sketches and ideas for my own work. Right now, I have so many projects in mind that I can't wait to start. It is a very exciting moment.

I like to think of each project as a prototype. In my practice, I always want to be the first person surprised by my own work. I need that feeling of discovery. For me, making art is a way of exploring both the world and myself at the same time. That is what makes my artistic practice so essential to who I am.

One thing is certain: new works will be coming to Bisou Gallery very soon.