Welcome to The Disruptor’s Seat—where the rule-breakers, culture shapers, and artistic agitators take center stage. This isn’t a space for the safe or the ordinary. It’s a pulpit for the ones who rewrite the script, build empires out of defiance, and carve beauty out of rebellion.
Here, we talk to the creatives who dare. The photographers who see beyond the frame, the floral artists who sculpt emotion from petals, the makers who dismantle expectations and rebuild them in their own image. These aren’t just interviews—they’re manifestos. Unfiltered conversations with the ones unafraid to shake the industry, own their voice, and create on their own damn terms.
Pull up a chair. This is where the disruptors speak.
Meet Tamara Neal—a force of creativity, craftsmanship, and pure artistry, running a stunning business from the rugged beauty of Tofino. She doesn’t just create products; she weaves stories into every scent, every flavor, every detail—turning the ordinary into an experience. (And if you ask me, her work makes the perfect gift for both vendors and clients. ❤️)
A mother, an artist, a visionary—Tamara moves through the world with a beautiful sense of craft and business, balancing intuition with strategy, beauty with purpose. Today, we step into her world, where passion meets precision, and every creation tells a story.
Naturally, I had to dig into her mind, unravel her process, and ask the questions that matter. And lucky for us—she had some brilliant answers. Let’s dive in.
What was the moment (or moments) that pushed you to break away from the expected and carve your own path?
It wasn’t one moment. It was a series of small fractures—cracks in the illusion that the “right” way was ever going to be my way. Watching people chase external validation while their inner light dimmed. The realization that no one was going to hand me permission to create something different. I had to take it. So I did.
Crafting candle + soap came into my life at a time when I needed something solid to hold onto. After we lost our baby girl, Sunny, grief felt like an undertow—pulling, relentless. There was so much I couldn’t control, so much that felt impossible to carry. And yet, with my hands in oils and botanicals, with the slow alchemy of transformation unfolding before me, something shifted.
Soap-making wasn’t just a craft; it became a way through. A ritual of turning raw materials into
something whole, something useful, something beautiful.
At first, it was humble—cardboard boxes as molds, small batches made in the quiet of our
home. But it gave me something to look forward to. A reason to wake up and create. A way to
bring warmth and light back into our space, even when everything felt dim.
And somewhere along the way, I realized: If I can survive this loss, if I can turn heartbreak into
something that nourishes, then what else am I capable of?
I didn’t just break away from the expected—I built something new from the ground up, with my
own hands, my own grief, my own love. I walked away from the script because the script never
had space for this kind of resilience, this kind of rebirth.
But I do. And I always will.
Tell Us about your creative process
It’s messy. It’s wild. But always, always optimistic.
I trust my creative instincts fully—without hesitation, without second-guessing. I don’t stand in
my own way. I don’t overcomplicate. I don’t waste energy worrying about what others are doing.
I keep my blinders up, stay in my own lane, and create from a place that feels true.
If I’m proud of it, that’s enough. I follow that feeling—because if something lights me up, I trust
that it will resonate with the people who are meant to find it. There’s no room for FOMO or
comparison. What’s the point? Creativity isn’t about measuring up; it’s about expanding,
evolving, becoming.
And mistakes? I make plenty. I own them. I laugh at them. I forgive them at lightning speed. I
refuse to carry shame over something that’s part of the process. Why would I? Growth requires
space to stretch. I move forward, always. If something flops, I try again. And again.
Because I love what I do.
Because I believe in what I create.
Because it’s an honor—a true honor—to share my work with a community that connects with it.
And really, what could be better than that?
How do you navigate the craziness of the world right now?
I play. I don’t zoom out too much. My world stays intentionally small—not because I want to be
ignorant, but because I don’t believe we’re meant to absorb everything at the speed it comes at
us. The sorrow, the anger, the noise, the endless political agendas—I know it’s there, but I don’t
let it take up all my space.
Instead, I follow what makes me feel good. I bake with my daughter. I blast music that moves
me. I fill my life with colors, laughter, and simple joys. I drink wine—I really like wine. I soak in
the kind of moments that remind me what it means to be here, to be human, to be present in my
own life.
Because I believe magic is in the mundane. It’s in the way dough rises under warm hands, in
the hum of a favorite song, in the light catching the steam from a cup of tea. The world is heavy.
I know that. But I don’t carry all of it. I create, I love, I find joy in the small things, and I let that be
enough.
What patriarchal or clichéd narratives are dismantling through your work?
The patriarchal obsession with bigger, faster, more? Doesn’t apply.
The expectation that business should be cutthroat? Not here.
The idea that self-worth is tied to productivity? Burned to the ground.
I’m building something different—something that values slowness, rootedness, and the feminine
in its raw, untamed forms. Work that honors the hands that make, the land that gives, the cycles
that sustain.
But let’s be clear—this isn’t about ease. I work hard. I stay consistent. I build resilience not by
pushing myself to exhaustion, but by showing up, over and over again, with authenticity and
heart. I give without expectation, knowing that every moment of effort, every ounce of intention,
adds up.
Because real success isn’t about speed. It’s about staying. Staying with the work, staying true to
yourself, staying open to growth. The magic is in the long game, in the quiet persistence, in
trusting that when you move with integrity, it all comes back in ways you could never predict.
What inspires you when the world feels heavy or when creativity feels elusive, what are your creative igniters?
When the world feels heavy, I look to the things that don’t demand anything from me. The smell
of salt air at Chesterman Beach. The familiar rhythm of the Tonquin Connector trail beneath my
feet. My cat curling up beside me, purring like a steady heartbeat. A loving touch from my
husband, grounding me in the moment.
I let myself feel—the coolness of ocean spray, the warmth of sunlit driftwood, the weight of
damp earth in my hands. I let my hands remember what my mind sometimes forgets: that
creating isn’t about output. It’s about connection.
And when that fails?
I turn to my studio, a space I’ve built intentionally to let creative energy flow. But when I don’t
have it—when the burnout creeps in—I lean on my community. My mom. The people who see
me. Because sometimes, all it takes is looking at what I’ve created through someone else’s
eyes—someone I respect, someone who believes in me—and suddenly, it’s like lightning in a
bottle. The spark reignites.
Or sometimes, it’s just the pure, simple rush of an order coming in, or the unexpected joy of a
friend’s kind words. Those moments remind me: my work isn’t just mine. It’s shared. And that’s
what keeps me going.
What advice would you give to creatives who feel like they don’t fit or don’t want to fit the traditional molds?
Burn the mold.
Or leave it in the back of the cupboard to gather dust.
You were never meant to fit. That’s the whole point.
That said—I get it. Sometimes, being able to momentarily fit a mold is helpful. Knowing when to
shape-shift, when to adapt, when to play the game just enough to open a door—it’s a skill. And
it can serve you.
But at the end of the day? It’s on you to show up, over and over again, as yourself. No one is
going to hand you permission to do things your way. No one is going to make sure you stay true
to your vision. That’s your job.
Your work, your voice, your weird, wonderful perspective—someone out there needs it. But
even if they didn’t? Even if the world never applauded?
Would you still make it?
If the answer is yes, then you’re already free. Keep going. Keep showing up. Keep choosing
yourself. It all adds up.
What are you tired of seeing in your creative space, and how are you doing things differently?
Perfection. Curation. The idea that we need to smooth out all the rough edges before we show up.
I want the mess. The truth. The behind-the-scenes of a creative life that isn’t polished but lived.
I’m doing things differently by letting my work be raw, by refusing to pretend I have it all figured
out. By honoring process over performance.
But if I’m being honest? I feel trapped by what I’ve built sometimes. It’s on me, all the time. And
when it’s not? It’s on me to pay someone else to do it. And then, are they going to do it the way I
would? Am I even in a place where I can let go of that control?
This field is competitive. There are a lot of soap and candle makers in my region. It’s a
balancing act—staying true to my own lane while knowing there’s always someone else,
somewhere, doing something similar. And while I trust myself, I also know that trust doesn’t pay
the bills.
I’m tired of my husband carrying the weight of our financial responsibilities because my
business isn’t there yet. I’m tired of feeling like I’m not doing enough, because there is always
something that could be done better. There is always a piece of the business that needs
developing. My mind never really quiets.
But when I pull back, I know it’s not because I’m failing. It’s because I care. Because I want to
do good. Because I want to build something strong enough to carry my family toward financial
freedom.
So I keep going. Even when it’s heavy. Even when I don’t have all the answers. Even when I
have to remind myself to trust. Because in the end, this matters. And I refuse to let the weight of
it take away the joy of creating.
My Manifesto
I believe in slow work and fast laughter.
In walking barefoot and making things by hand.
In carving space for both softness and strength.
In honoring the wild and the worn-in.
I reject the rush.
I reject the hunger for more when enough is already here.
I reject the idea that worth is measured by output.
I create because it is my way of witnessing the world.
Because beauty—real beauty—isn’t something you buy.
It’s something you remember.
And I am here to remember.
A Note: I worked with Tammy a few years ago and created her beautiful brand, here is the link in case you want to check it out.
xx
Her IG : https://www.instagram.com/tofinohobbyist/
Her Shop: https://thehobbyist.ca/
