Meet Tracy

Photo Cred: Lara Kiniris

Tracy Tayama (Brady) is an ink and watercolor artist whose work carries the nostalgia of her Japanese heritage, her childhood in Hawaii, and her life raising a family in Northern California. Art has always been in the picture, but she also earned a doctorate in psychology (with a focus on ages 0–5 and families), a lens that often shapes her creations—whether it’s comics about motherhood, reflections on life and relationships, or the children’s books and novel she’s been crafting over the past few years. And food! So much food. As the saying goes, the way to someone’s heart is through their stomach.

Little Tracy was already figuring out perspective and shading as a preschooler—her teachers were impressed when she drew a subject in the foreground with the background in the distance. She didn’t understand what the fuss was about. A few years later, in a sumi-e ink class in Hawaii, an instructor praised the way she added shading and shadows—something that wasn’t even part of the lesson. Again, she thought, isn’t that just how you make bamboo not look flat? Back then, being singled out for “not following directions” felt more embarrassing than exciting.


Years passed. It wasn’t until after she had children—and maybe with the nudge of middle age—that she realized her art was about more than simply drawing what she saw. It became about capturing the stories and feelings connected to places, meals, and good times. Sometimes that comes through in writing, but more often it’s in the act of painting itself. With a good audiobook, a favorite podcast, an album on repeat, or just the quiet hum of the day, she rotates between several pieces at a time, fully immersed. Now, she gets the hype—and she’s all in.

Photo Cred: @Studi03511

Tracy’s mantra to creating:
Paint and draw what excites you. Each new piece is a new try. In the end of the piece, if it doesn’t feel right, try again. Each and every piece is a win or a learn.
Paint what excites you. Every piece is a fresh attempt. If it doesn’t feel right when you finish, start again. Each work is either a win—or a lesson.