Meet Nora Tuck

We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Nora Tuck a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Nora, thank you so much for joining us. You are such a positive person and it’s something we really admire and so we wanted to start by asking you where you think your optimism comes from?

I actually have a double answer to this question, and it might sound like a funny pairing. First? Star Wars. I’m completely serious! I grew up on the stories from a galaxy far, far away (Return of the Jedi is still my favorite), and if there’s one theme the saga drives home, it’s hope—just look at the title of the original movie. Optimism flows from living with hope. Star Wars shows us that hope isn’t naïve or passive. It’s active, gritty, and worth fighting for. Even in the darkest moments, there’s a greater force at work, and it’s working for good. Evil might win battles, but it was never destined to win the war.

Which brings me to the second (and more foundational) source of my optimism: my faith. I’m a Christian, and I believe that those stories about good defeating evil aren’t just reserved for sci-fi/fantasy space operas. They reflect a deeper truth that is alive for us here and now. My faith in God lets me live with a confident hope that our broken world will be healed. I believe in a coming restoration that will wipe away pain, sorrow, and sin, while perfecting the goodness and beauty we get a glimpse of now. And artists get to play a unique role leading up to that restoration! Creativity is, in itself, an act of resistance against despair; it lets us reimagine, reframe, and reveal what may be hidden to others. Artists know how and where to shine a spotlight, and I choose to shine mine on hope. That would be pretty hard to do if I was a pessimist…so, optimism it is!

Thanks, so before we move on maybe you can share a bit more about yourself?

I’m a Korean-American freelance illustrator and designer based in Georgia, USA. My work focuses on character design, visual storytelling, and creative problem-solving. A huge fantasy lover, I watched the extended edition of The Lord of the Rings one too many times as a kid, so you’ll find no shortage of elves and magic in my pieces. I’m also a big mythology nerd who will always find an excuse to bring ancient Greek or Roman aesthetics into my work.

My artistic journey began with the Rainbow Magic Fairies series and the Pokémon Adventures manga—I was always copying trading cards and book covers with my colored pencils! I’m happy to say that my enthusiasm for fandoms never stopped; in fact, I believe I wouldn’t be the artist I am today without being a proud nerd. My love for character design started with scouring Google for musical theater costume references. My interest in animation grew from the imaginary scenes that played out in my head whenever my mom made me listen to classical music growing up. My fascination with worldbuilding came from post-movie discussions with friends after catching the latest Marvel release in theaters. One of the best parts of attending SCAD (class of ’23) was being surrounded by other creators who were just as excited to geek out over their inspirations as I was. Now, navigating post-grad life a bit early (I graduated at age 20), I’m learning to appreciate my own story and embrace the freedom that comes with forging a unique creative path. Every artistic career looks different, and I’m learning to celebrate that.

To give you a glimpse into my work, one of my favorite collaborations so far was with Nyansa Classical Community, a classical education organization. I had the joy of illustrating new curricula based on Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. It was a blast bringing legendary characters to life with designs that celebrated racial diversity, showing kids of all backgrounds that they could be heroes.

Currently, one of my favorite personal projects is designing an original cast of elvish characters, blending high fantasy with ancient Roman influences in my worldbuilding. It’s been a fun deep dive into historical research and design theory, pushing me to think critically about every visual choice while still having fun creating for myself. My long-term goal is to develop this world into something tangible, whether that’s an art book, animation, written series, or something else entirely.

If you had to pick three qualities that are most important to develop, which three would you say matter most?

First, live in more than one place. Okay, don’t get mad, I know this isn’t always something we can fully control! But as someone who’s moved seven times in twenty-two years—literally coast-to-coast in the U.S. plus overseas—I can say with confidence that where you live shapes how you see. Now, there’s nothing wrong with staying rooted in one place. Honestly, I’m a little envious of people who have a clear, consistent sense of home. But experiencing just one city, one state, or one culture can and will narrow your creative scope. We humans love to feel comfortable, and too much comfort will deplete your curiosity. Living in different places stretches your empathy, sharpens your perspective, and expands your idea of what’s “normal.” It forces you to adapt, observe, and grow, which are all indispensable traits to artists. So however you can, seek out new environments. Be the new kid in the room. Add to your mental, visual, and emotional dictionaries. Your work, as well as you, will be all the more vibrant for it.

Second, be curious about the “why.” One of my biggest pet peeves is what I call “website questions”—you know the type. Questions that are surface-level, answerable in a sentence, or easily found on an FAQ page. They don’t challenge us to think, and they certainly don’t lead to anything new. Asking better questions is a skill, and like any skill, it takes practice. Curiosity is how we train it. When we ask “why,” we dig deeper: Why does this work like that? How did this come to be? What makes this feel right or wrong? That kind of curiosity opens up more ideas, more connections, and more creative freedom. It creates a cycle where learning feeds discovery, and discovery feeds creativity. For example, say I’m drawing a hammer for a character. I’m no handywoman, so my default mental image? A pretty basic hammer from a toy toolbox. But if I stop there, I’m limiting the story. In reality, there are hundreds of hammer types, each shaped by purpose, culture, time period, even personal history. So I ask: What is this tool used for? Who made it? How would they customize it? By pushing past the obvious, I can design something that actually adds meaning to the character and story. So don’t settle for the first answer. Keep asking “why,” and push for the answers that lie hidden three levels down.

And third, always practice gratitude, especially if you’re a creator. I say this as an artist myself: artists get too caught up in trying to be original, impressive, or endlessly productive. So much of creative work is centered on you—your style, your brand, your vision. It’s no wonder artists can end up in their own heads. Gratitude is how we break out of that loop. It grounds us. It shifts the focus away from constant self-evaluation and toward appreciation of the people who support us, the opportunities we’ve been given, and the simple joys that show up in the process. Gratitude grows when we remember we didn’t get here alone. It keeps us humble and open. When we’re thankful, we listen better. We give credit. We stay teachable. And honestly, the world could always use more of that. Artists have a unique kind of influence. We shape culture, tell stories, and spark change. So let’s use that influence to lead with gratitude in our everyday lives.

As we end our chat, is there a book you can leave people with that’s been meaningful to you and your development?

There are a lot of books that have shaped me—I could name the Bible, collections of Greek mythology, Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. But there’s one particular quote that’s stayed with me for about ten years now. It’s from a middle-grade fantasy series called The Unicorn Chronicles by Bruce Coville. In the final book, The Last Hunt, a deity-like character named Fallon drops my all-time favorite quote on creativity:

“But really, why does anyone create? You feel a…a restlessness inside, a need to make something new, something no one has seen before. You want to add to the beauty and the richness of the world with a gift, an offering that is uniquely yours. It’s an act of selfishness and generosity, all rolled into one.”

I think the kind of restlessness described is something most people recognize, even if they don’t always name it. It’s that desire to contribute something beautiful, to leave a mark that adds rather than takes. And the cool part is, you don’t have to be an artist vocationally to feel it. Whether you’re designing, teaching, parenting, cooking, coding, or building, creativity is everywhere, and it’s a strange mix of the uniquely human and deeply sacred. We share this desire, consciously or unconsciously, to fill the world with beauty, goodness, and truth that comes from something bigger than us.

I once heard this idea defined as an “apocalypse.” Did you know that word originally meant “revealing?” Specifically, it means a revealing of a “more real” world that we can’t yet see. Dear creators, we are the apocalypse-bringers. Like I said before, artists know how and where to shine a spotlight. We reveal the hidden and tell the untold. Imagination is a gift from God. We want to, as Bruce Coville wrote, add to the beauty and the richness of the world because we can’t help but give others a glimpse into the unseen.

Yes, like the quote states, creating can feel quite self-centered; we pour in our time and energy and then ask others to look, listen, or pay attention. But when it’s done well, it becomes an act of generosity too. You’re offering something of yourself in service of someone else. And both parts are necessary! You can’t give of yourself without owning who you are. You can’t reveal something to be true without first wrestling with it personally. That’s what I love about creativity: it holds tension without breaking. Personal and universal, self and service, present reality and a more real one still to come.

So whether I’m sketching elves, collaborating with educators, or binging Star Wars for the hundredth time, I keep coming back to this: creativity is a sign of hope. It answers the call to action that this quote poses, and it looks forward with eagerness to the beautiful and new. Creativity dares to believe in restoration. And if I can play even a small part in that—as a designer, a nerd, a believer—then I’ll gladly keep creating for as long as I’m able.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.noraillustrates.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/noraillustrates/