Meet Julie Deye of West Los Angeles

Today we’d like to introduce you to Julie Deye.

Hi Julie, thanks for sharing your story with us. To start, maybe you can tell our readers some of your backstory.
It’s been four years since I moved to Los Angeles in 2021 from Cincinnati after earning my BFA in Acting. I came here bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, eager to begin the life I had always imagined. Coming off the peak of Covid, I was ready to finally start my ‘life.’

Since I was a kid, I’d always wanted to be a storyteller. My brother used to write little plays for us to perform in front of our family….it was pure imagination, and I loved every moment. I carried that into childhood theatre, into high school, and eventually made the choice to study it intensively in college. Theatre, to me, has always been a kind of home; a place where all the parts of our humanity could land and breathe, where stories spark dialogue, and dialogue sparks change. So I packed my bags and headed west, hoping LA could be the place where stories take root.

Almost immediately, life had other plans. I started working background jobs to pay the bills, even landing a spot on the HBO show Barry. I’ll never forget standing next to Bill Hader as he casually asked how my night was going. I thought, Wow—I’m here, doing the thing. But that very night, I got a phone call that changed my life forever: my father had passed away from a heart attack. I was standing in the Santa Monica Pier parking lot in complete shock. Suddenly, the chapter I thought would be defined by excitement became one of deep grief.

The years that followed were stormy—losses, a totaled car, heartbreak, and eventually breaking my ankle so badly I couldn’t walk for nearly half a year. At times it felt like life was determined to keep testing me. And yet, in hindsight, I can see how each of those experiences reshaped me, refined me. They deepened my empathy, strengthened my resilience, and gave me a new lens through which to see the world.

For a while, I couldn’t create. How could I? The well was dry. But I’ve learned that’s part of the artistic journey too: sometimes you need to step back, to live, to heal. Because when you return, you come back with more truth to offer. This past year has felt like a season of renewal. The storms have calmed. The well is flowing again. And I feel ready to create—not despite what I’ve gone through, but because of it.

Alongside acting, music, and visual art, I’ve been working as a barista. And while that might seem far from my artistic path, it’s taught me just as much about people and connection. There’s something meaningful about being someone’s first interaction of the day, offering warmth, making a stranger feel seen even in a brief exchange. That sense of community and humanity is something I want to carry into my art as well.

Now, at 26, I feel more grounded, more clear about the stories I want to tell, the songs I want to write, the art I want to make. I want to create work that reflects resilience, healing, and the shared human experience. My father always used to say, the world is your oyster. And I believe that now more than ever.

I see the years ahead as full of possibility, and this time, I feel ready not just to chase the dream, but to bring my whole self into it—my resilience, my empathy, my voice. I’m excited to grow into myself, and into my artistry, and to share my stories in this city, this world, and this life.

I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
It definitely hasn’t been a smooth road. Grief has been without a doubt the the biggest challenge, any loss is hard but to lose a parent in your twenties is like no other, and I think that kind of loss never really goes away. You just learn how to carry it differently. On top of that, there’s the reality of trying to build a life in a city like LA. The financial struggle is very real, working odd jobs to pay rent, stretching every dollar, trying to keep momentum while also figuring out how to simply stay afloat. Being a creative is not for the weak, especially in this city.

And then, like so many people do in their early twenties, I went through the heartbreak of a first love. It was incredibly toxic, and untangling myself from that relationship was its own kind of survival. And then, the injury…. breaking my ankle in three places, needing a surgery with screws and plates. Months of staring at a ceiling, unable to walk anywhere, forced into stillness. That time was its own kind of reckoning. When you can’t move, you’re left to sit with yourself, your pain, your questions. It was humbling, and honestly, terrifying. The universe wanted me to pause, and so I did.

But I think those seasons of being stripped down, by grief, love and loss, by financial instability, by physical limitation, whatever it may be, it’s taught me resilience in a way nothing else could. It’s deepened my capacity for empathy, for patience, for noticing the small moments of grace. And though I’m still processing much of it, as I think we always are, I carry those lessons forward. They’ve given me a richer perspective not just on life, but on the kind of artist I want to be.

Can you tell our readers more about what you do and what you think sets you apart from others?
My work is really about storytelling, and I explore that across multiple forms. I’m a theatre-based actress with extensive training in physical theatre and classical work, and I bring that same discipline and sensitivity to everything I do on stage and on camera.

I’m also a self-taught guitarist and singer-songwriter, creating original music that’s both personal and, I hope, universally relatable. Over the years, I’ve hosted open mic nights, creating spaces for other creatives to share their work, and those experiences have shaped the way I think about community and connection through art.

I also work in visual art, which for now is more personal—a way to express myself and explore emotion—but I hope to develop it further in the coming years.

Right now, I’m most proud of the original music I’ve been creating. It feels like a reflection of everything I’ve been through, and sharing it has been both grounding and exhilarating.

What sets me apart is the perspective and empathy I bring to every project, shaped by my experiences navigating challenges, growth, and resilience. Beyond that, I’m deeply passionate about building community among artists. One of my dreams is to create a space in LA where people from all walks of life—across theatre, music, visual art, and beyond—can come together to collaborate, create, share a cup of coffee, and simply connect. I believe making art in community is profoundly healing, and I’d love to be at the heart of bringing those worlds together, creating a space where creativity, conversation, and connection can flourish.

At the heart of everything I do is the desire to connect—to invite people into the human experience, to create moments of reflection, empathy, and resonance. That’s what drives me, and that’s the kind of art and space I hope to continue building

What do you like best about our city? What do you like least?
What I love best about Los Angeles is the energy of creativity and possibility. There’s a sense that anything can be made here, that every day brings new ideas, collaborations, and opportunities to connect with people from all walks of life. I love the diversity of experiences and perspectives—the fact that in one day you can meet a musician, a visual artist, a theatre actor, and a filmmaker, all in the same coffee shop. That sense of community, even within such a sprawling city, is inspiring and fuels my own work. Each neighborhood has its own heartbeat, and every person you meet has a story—it’s a special kind of city.

What I like least… well, I’ll be honest: I genuinely hated LA for the first couple of years. I don’t blame the city for that; it was more about everything I was going through personally. And, of course, the traffic can make anyone lose their mind! Beyond that, it can feel overwhelming and isolating at times. The city moves fast, the cost of living is high, and it’s easy to get lost in the hustle…

That said, there’s something to be said about staying. A lot of people leave after just a year, and I think choosing to remain, to keep showing up and creating, has taught me resilience, patience, and how to build meaningful connections. For now, LA is my home base. I love it here, but I’m also open to exploring other creative hubs like New York or Chicago in the future. This city has grounded me, shaped my work, and prepared me to bring my artistry wherever I go

Contact Info:

• Instagram: @juju_deye

Image Credits
Charles Benoit
Taylor Jones