Psyop co-founder and director on her career story so far, creating belonging for herself and others, and owning her Korean New Yorker roots, writes LBB’s Ben Conway

When a distorted guitar riff tore through the screen and MTV’s animated logo crashed into view, Marie Hyon, co-founder of production company Psyop, felt her world shift. “It was loud, defiant, and unapologetically threw me into a new world of creative possibility,” she recalls.

Growing up as a young Korean immigrant in gritty, pre-gentrified Williamsburg, Brooklyn, MTV felt like salvation. “I found a strange sense of belonging,” Marie says. It gave her hope that creativity could transcend language, culture and isolation.

But the path wasn’t easy. At nine, she arrived in Brooklyn from Seoul to find herself one of the only Asian kids in the neighbourhood. “We stood out, and not in a good way,” she says. “Bullying was constant.” While her brothers had Hapkido lessons from their father, she was denied that defence. “He said martial arts weren’t for girls. That denial lit a quiet rebellion in me -- I vowed to never feel powerless again.” Still, the pain of being othered chipped away at her. “I started hiding my Korean identity, patching together a personality shaped by what others wanted me to be. Eventually, I didn’t recognise myself.”

Art became her way back. At Parsons School of Design in New York, a colour theory professor dropped the needle on Coltrane’s 'A Love Supreme', and Marie felt something awaken. “It was like a sacred space. The music gave me permission to take risks, to listen to myself. I started to feel free.” With coffee, craft paper, a tackle box of art supplies, and Coltrane’s improvisations echoing around her, Marie listened to her instincts and began to reclaim her voice. “Every bold mark was a piece of my becoming. I saw my past in the erased lines, but I also saw possibility.”

That confidence led to her first illustration job for The New York Times Book Review, and soon she was building a portfolio that bridged fine art and bold graphic storytelling. She taught herself digital tools on a Macintosh Quadra 650, landing design gigs at Nickelodeon and MTV, where she thrived in the promos department.

At MTV, she met Marco Spier, Eben Mears, and Todd Mueller -- her future Psyop co-founders. In 2000, they turned an East Village dive bar into a studio, even rigging a Flame suite in the bathroom. With support from their fifth co-founder, Kylie Matulick, Psyop grew by blending artistry and commerce with intent.

^{Above: One of Psyop's earliest projects - 'Crow' for MTV HD}

For over 25 years, Marie’s work has been defined by emotional resonance. “I don’t want to add noise, I want to make something that matters,” she says. “It’s not just about the viewer. It’s about what it means to the team, too.”

Refusing to be boxed in by any one medium, Marie also directs live-action alongside Psyop's animation expertise, including music videos for Converse (featuring Pharrell, Santigold, and Kid Cudi), Vampire Weekend, and Best Coast, as well as projects for brands. “The more I shared my vision, the more I rediscovered myself,” she says. “Breaking and rebuilding taught me strength and empathy.”

That empathy shaped 'Bottle Cap', a charming but dark short produced by Psyop, alongside Parley for the Oceans, to bring awareness to climate change. The film premiered at Annecy Film Festival in France and was introduced and endorsed by James Cameron. A feature-length adaptation is currently in development.

“I drew from my own memories -- my fears, hopes and longing,” says Marie. “No matter our differences, we all crave connection.”

Storytelling has become the home she once longed for. “It fosters community,” she reflects. “It’s where we feel seen and heard.” Still, doubt sometimes lingers. “Imposter syndrome doesn’t fully go away. But even the persona you build to survive can be a tool. It gives you the courage to say, ‘Here’s my idea—and here’s why it matters.’”

Her advice? “Trust your voice, even if it shakes. Speak boldly. You deserve to be heard.”
Now, Marie embraces her complexity: Korean and New Yorker, tough and tender.

“I thought I had to choose,” she says. “But I can be all of it. There’s power in that. When we share our stories, we create something bigger than ourselves. That’s what drives me, and always will.”

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