About Julia O’Sullivan

The person behind Jupigio Artwork

I'm Julia O'Sullivan, a Welsh narrative artist, painter and sculptor.

For more than twenty years I have been creating art about people, stories and the strange complexities of being human.

It has taken me a surprisingly long time to understand that.

For years, I thought I simply had an extraordinarily varied imagination. One moment I could be immersed in the Seven Deadly Sins, the next in mental health, Welsh mythology, Dante, the Book of Revelation, relationships or the ever-changing personas of David Bowie.

They appeared to be completely different subjects.

Looking back, I can see the connection.

I have always been fascinated by what lies beneath the surface — and by what happens when people, relationships, beliefs and identities change.

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Finding my voice through art

I grew up in Wales with roots in the Swansea Valley, but becoming an artist was not a neat or carefully planned journey.

For a time, art existed alongside ordinary working life. I worked as a laboratory technician — including the rather wonderful job of testing beer — while continuing to paint whenever life allowed.

Later, moving to New Zealand and becoming a stay-at-home mother gave me something incredibly valuable: the opportunity to experiment.

I played.

I tried materials simply to discover what they could do. I combined techniques, painted, constructed, sculpted and gradually stopped worrying about where one artistic discipline was supposed to end and another begin.

That freedom changed my work.

Painting began to escape the canvas. Sculpture entered the paintings. Metal, copper, glass, found objects and unexpected materials became part of my visual vocabulary.

Eventually I realised I wasn't particularly interested in fitting neatly into a category.

I was interested in telling the story in whatever way the story demanded.

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An obsession with detail

I am naturally curious.

When a subject catches my imagination, I want to know everything about it.

That curiosity has taken me into mythology, psychology, religion, history, mental health, morality, folklore, popular culture and the darker corners of human behaviour.

Research became inseparable from making art.

It is why my work can take hundreds of hours — and, in the case of some sculptures, years — to complete.

I don't add detail simply for decoration.

A colour may carry a meaning. An object may refer to something that happened hundreds of years ago. A tiny figure in the background may completely alter the interpretation of the scene.

Sometimes I hide things simply because I want the viewer to have the pleasure of discovering them.

I like art that rewards curiosity.

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Wales, New Zealand and home

Living away from Wales also taught me something about belonging.

Sometimes you don't fully understand your relationship with a place until you leave it.

Homesickness and my connection to Welsh history, landscape and identity eventually contributed to one of my largest works, Emrys — The Great Welsh Dragon.

At approximately 2.8 metres long, Emrys became an enormous visual story of Wales — its mythology, industry, landscape, history and people — and today the sculpture is housed at Swansea University.

Creating it made me realise just how deeply Wales had remained embedded in me.

I am now back home in Carmarthenshire, surrounded by the paintings, sculptures, half-formed ideas, materials and objects that make up Jupigio Artwork.

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The darker side of humanity

My work has never been particularly interested in behaving itself.

I am drawn to subjects that are complicated, uncomfortable, contradictory or sometimes downright strange.

The Seven Deadly Sins allow me to examine morality and human behaviour.

My Mental Health Heads attempt to give physical form to experiences that are often invisible.

The Seven Year Itch explores how relationships change.

Dante and Revelation enter worlds of judgement, fear, punishment and redemption.

Fairy tales and mythology allow me to revisit stories we think we already understand.

And figures such as David Bowie fascinate me because identity itself can become a form of transformation.

I can move from humour to horror, beauty to grotesquery, tenderness to anger — sometimes within the same artwork.

That contrast feels very human to me.

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Becoming part of the story

For many years I was comfortable allowing the artwork to speak while keeping myself safely behind it.

That has changed.

As I have revisited my work and written the journals that accompany it, I have realised that explaining the symbolism without explaining something of the person who created it leaves part of the story untold.

My experiences influence what I notice.

My opinions influence the questions I ask.

My humour, anger, curiosity, memories and contradictions inevitably find their way into the work.

So I have stopped pretending that the artist can always be separated from the artwork.

Sometimes I am the storyteller.

Sometimes I am the observer.

And sometimes I am standing right in the middle of the story myself.

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Welcome to my world

Jupigio Artwork is the result of more than two decades of curiosity, experimentation and an inability to leave a good question alone.

My home in Kidwelly has gradually become something of a living gallery, filled with works ranging from intimate paintings to monumental sculpture.

You are welcome to explore them here online, delve into the Artist Journals to discover the thinking and symbolism behind individual pieces, or arrange a private viewing and experience the work in person.

But whichever way you enter my world, I would ask one thing:

Don't just look at the artwork. Look for the story.

There is always more there than you first see.

Julia