Tanya Mac shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.
Good morning Tanya, 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 battle are you avoiding?
Honestly, my biggest battle right now is giving myself permission to show up as the artist again, not just the director or strategist. I’ve spent years building TMAC Arts to help others heal and express themselves through creativity.. veterans, first responders, people carrying heavy stories — and somewhere in that process, I learned to hide behind the mission.
I’m great at structure, execution, and making things happen for everyone else. But the artist in me, the one who paints the uncomfortable truths, the emotional chaos, the beauty in pain, she’s been waiting for me to make space for her again. That’s the battle: allowing my own art to lead, even when it’s raw, vulnerable, or doesn’t fit neatly into a plan.
TMAC Arts was never supposed to be polished. It was supposed to be real. And I think this next chapter is about returning to that, letting the art speak before the strategy does.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
My name is Tanya Mac, and I’m the founder of TMAC Arts, a developing mobile arts and wellness initiative that blends creativity and mental health. TMAC Arts was born out of my own story — years of using art to navigate trauma, burnout, and healing. I realized how often people are told to “get over it” when what they really need is a way to express it.
TMAC Arts is about giving people that space… to paint, write, build, or just show up as they are. So many people, especially veterans, first responders, and others who carry the weight of service. I’m in the process of establishing TMAC Arts as a nonprofit, building programs that take art and wellness directly into communities instead of waiting for people to come to us.
What makes this work special is that it’s not about being an artist… it’s about being human. The workshops I’m building are less about the finished product and more about the process, messy, emotional, beautiful, and real. My art and my story are proof that creative expression can save lives, and now I’m working to make sure others have that same opportunity.
Amazing, so let’s take a moment to go back in time. What part of you has served its purpose and must now be released?
The part of me that has served its purpose, and that I’m learning to release is the version of me that keeps everyone else comfortable, even when it costs me my own peace. I’ve spent a lot of my life making sure no one was mad, no one was uncomfortable, no one saw me too loud or too raw. That survival skill kept me safe once, but now it keeps me small and angry.
I’m trying, honestly trying so hard to let that go. Some days I do it beautifully, and some days I completely lose it. I still yell, shut down, act out of fear, or fall back into old trauma patterns. I’m human. But I’m learning to see those moments as part of the healing, not proof that I’ve failed.
My art has always been where I tell the truth first. In my series “The Rooms Inside Me,” each painting is a place I’ve lived emotionally, a room where I stayed quiet, where I tried to be who others needed, or where I hid my anger and pain. Now I’m painting my way through those rooms, opening the doors, turning on the lights, and finally saying the things I used to only paint.
Letting go of people-pleasing isn’t about becoming unkind it’s about becoming real. It’s hard, but necessary.
What fear has held you back the most in your life?
The fear that’s held me back the most is the fear of being misunderstood, of being seen as too much. Too emotional, too passionate, too complicated. For a long time, I thought if I could just keep everyone else comfortable, I’d be safe. But that kind of safety comes with a price.. it keeps you from taking up space in your own life.
I’ve always felt things deeply, and when you’re someone who carries emotion like that, you learn to manage it quietly. I used to pour it all into my art. I painted my truth instead of speaking it. It was hidden in letters, images and nobody was really able to decipher what my colorful collage like paintings meant but me. My canvases held what I didn’t have the words to say.
Now, I’m trying my hardest not to let fear decide how I live, what I create, or who I become. I still catch myself shrinking or apologizing for taking up space, but I’m learning to recognize it and choose differently. That’s part of why I started The Rooms Inside Me series. Each painting represents a space I’ve lived in emotionally: rooms where I’ve stayed small, still get stuck in these rooms at times, tiptoed around my truth, or carried the fear of being “too much.” Creating this work is how I walk back through those rooms, turn on the light, and remind myself I don’t have to live there anymore.
I think our readers would appreciate hearing more about your values and what you think matters in life and career, etc. So our next question is along those lines. Is the public version of you the real you?
I think the public version of me is partly real, but it’s definitely not the whole story. My Rooms Inside Me series shows one side of me, but it’s the heavier, darker part. Those pieces came from pain, reflection, and all the rooms where I used to hold my breath emotionally.
If you really want to know me, it’s more like my piece Barefoot, But Never in Grass. That one feels closer to who I actually am — the rainbow-wearing, glitter-loving, slightly weird about textures and smells version of me. I’m the one who says something funny at the perfect time without trying, who can be sarcastic and soft in the same breath.
I’ve always been someone who cares deeply about people, maybe too deeply sometimes. And recently, I’ve realized I’ve hurt people close to me while trying to grow out of old habits. I’m fighting against that old people-pleasing part of me and learning to set boundaries, to stop apologizing for existing, and to just be honest. It’s messy, but it’s real. And I think that’s the version of me I’m finally learning to let people see.
Okay, we’ve made it essentially to the end. One last question before you go. What light inside you have you been dimming?
The light I’ve been dimming the most is my own joy. The wild, colorful, expressive part of me that isn’t afraid to take up space. Somewhere along the way, I learned to tone it down so I wouldn’t make other people uncomfortable. I became the steady one, the responsible one, the helper, the peacekeeper. And I’m proud of that, but it came at a cost.
I’ve been so focused on making sure everyone else feels okay that I forgot how to just be okay myself to laugh too loud, wear glitter without a reason, or paint something that isn’t about pain. For a long time, my art carried all the darker rooms inside me. But lately, I’ve felt this pull to let the light back in, to let my art hold both the grief and the joy, the color and the chaos.
That light I’ve been dimming is still there. It’s playful, irreverent, curious, and deeply loving. It’s the part of me that finds beauty in the smallest things and doesn’t apologize for feeling everything deeply. I’m learning that turning that light back up doesn’t make me selfish.. it makes me whole.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://Www.tmacarts.org
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tmac_arts?igsh=MXA1c3piajh4MjI4Mw==
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tanyamacarts
Image Credits
Tanya Mac
