Tina Mari Rucker of West Town on Life, Lessons & Legacy

We recently had the chance to connect with Tina Mari Rucker and have shared our conversation below.

Good morning Tina Mari , we’re so happy to have you here with us and we’d love to explore your story and how you think about life and legacy and so much more. So let’s start with a question we often ask: What is something outside of work that is bringing you joy lately?
Lately, I’ve been filled with anticipation and joy around something deeply personal. I recently inherited my father’s old classic Toyota pickup truck. I haven’t received it yet, but just knowing it’s coming into my care has stirred up an unexpected excitement. The idea of restoring it feels like more than just a project; it’s a way of reconnecting with his memory and honoring the stories that vehicle carries.

I know the restoration process will take time, and I don’t want to rush it. Instead, I’m looking forward to each stage: the patience, the problem-solving, and the small wins along the way. In many ways, it mirrors my approach to art and life: honoring the process, embracing the transformation, and finding beauty in the details.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
My name is Tina Mari Rucker, and I am the founder and director of T. Mari Gallery, an art space in Chicago dedicated to showcasing diverse voices and creating transformative experiences through contemporary art. My work spans multiple mediums: painting, filmmaking, photography, and curation. My practice is deeply rooted in themes of identity, memory, and cultural heritage.

What makes T. Mari Gallery unique is its focus on connection and storytelling. I see the gallery not just as a place to exhibit art, but as a space where artists and audiences can engage in meaningful conversations about life, creativity, and becoming. Alongside exhibitions, I also run Behind the Art, a YouTube series where I film artists in their element, capturing not only their craft but also the humanity and stories that fuel it.

Right now, I’m especially excited about the next exhibition: “Object Lessons”. This is a powerful curatorial exhibition organized by artist and curator Tim Lowly, which invites audiences to reflect on the meanings and memories embedded in objects.exhibition, which brings together artists around the theme of change and transformation, and a multidisciplinary body of work. Personally, I’m developing called In Her Image, which explores Black womanhood, ancestral memory, and empowerment through portraiture, film, and installation. I’m also preparing to launch The Bloomsbury Room, a retreat series designed to nurture creativity and healing.

At the heart of it all, my goal is to build a platform that amplifies voices, sparks dialogue, and reminds us of the power of art to transform both individuals and communities.

Amazing, so let’s take a moment to go back in time. What was your earliest memory of feeling powerful?
I was about seven or eight when I first understood what power felt like, not the kind that comes from being loud or in charge, but the quiet, steady power of making something happen. I decided to put on a play in my house and treated it like a real production: I wrote the story, created the characters, designed and sold the tickets, set the price, made the popcorn, and directed everyone from behind the scenes. It wasn’t perfect because the props were improvised, lines were messy, but watching people show up, sit down, and be moved by what I’d assembled taught me something profound: I could bring things together and make them live.

That small, homemade production is the root of everything I do now, from curating exhibitions to producing films and building community at T. Mari Gallery. The thrill of orchestrating details, of turning an idea into an experience others can share, is still the same. Back then it was a living room audience and paper tickets; today it’s artists, collectors, and neighbors in a gallery. The feeling of possibility hasn’t changed.

What fear has held you back the most in your life?
The fear that held me back longest lived inside my own story, a quiet, persistent narrative of scarcity. It was the belief that there wouldn’t be enough: not enough money, not enough opportunity, not enough reward for the risks I took. That sense of lack made me play small, hesitate before investing in myself, and question whether I deserved the returns of my labor. Over time I learned that the boundary wasn’t external but internal; by naming the fear and slowly choosing actions that contradicted it, small bets on my work, asking for fair pay, and saying yes to opportunities even when they felt risky. I began to shift the story. The fear hasn’t disappeared, but it now fuels careful courage instead of stopping me in my tracks.

So a lot of these questions go deep, but if you are open to it, we’ve got a few more questions that we’d love to get your take on. Is the public version of you the real you?
Yes… and also not entirely. My personality is essentially the same in public and private: I’m genuine, thoughtful, and present. What changes is my comfort level. In public I’m often reserved and observant at first because it’s my safety net, a protective way of feeling people out until I know them. That initial distance isn’t performance; it’s self-preservation. Once I feel grounded, the quieter version opens up into the fuller me. So the public Tina Mari is real, just a careful, listening edition of the person my closest friends know.

Okay, so before we go, let’s tackle one more area. What do you understand deeply that most people don’t?
I don’t pretend to know what others understand, that’s not for me to judge. What I am learning, though, is the deep, patient language of cycles and the practice of flowing with life instead of constantly planning for what comes next. It’s more than “stop and smell the roses.” It’s like learning to be in a river: feeling the water on your skin, tasting it, letting it move you without obsessing over where you’ll step once you reach shore.

That practice taught me detachment in a generous, empowering way, not indifference, but trust. Trust that seasons shift, that gains and losses belong to a larger rhythm, and that presence itself can be its own reward. I notice smaller details, surrender to the ride, and find that when I stop trying to control every outcome, life gives me richer, fuller experiences: the hikes and the slides, the labor and the soft returns. That is what I’m learning to hold close.

Contact Info:

Suggest a Story: BoldJourney is built on recommendations from the community; it’s how we uncover hidden gems,
so if you or someone you know deserves recognition please let us know here.
Highlighter Series
What do the first 90 minutes of your day look like?

Coffee? Workouts? Hitting the snooze button 14 times? Everyone has their morning ritual and we

Highlighter Series
What have been the defining wounds of your life—and how have you healed them?

Our deepest wounds often shape us as much as our greatest joys. The pain we

Highlighter Series
Are you doing what you were born to do—or what you were told to do?

Culture, economic circumstances, family traditions, local customs and more can often influence us more than