JJ Tintiangco shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.
Good morning JJ , 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: Have you ever been glad you didn’t act fast?
I think the older I get, the more I value the power of the pause. I’ve really committed to being more responsive than reactive not just in my professional life, but in my personal life too. I owe a lot of that to my Lolo (grandpa). He always tried to slow me down when I was younger, and I didn’t really get it back then. But as I’ve grown older, I’ve realized that slowing down and taking the scenic route is how you learn to truly appreciate the view—not just the destination.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Hi! I’m JJ, the heart behind JJ Typography a multidisciplinary healing artist and designer weaving typography, illustration, and intention into vibrant visuals that speak truth. My work is rooted in wellness, accessibility, and storytelling, drawing inspiration from California street art, my time in the Bay, and my background as an ethnic studies educator and healthcare worker.
JJ Typography is where bold letters meet powerful movements. I create digital art, branding, and visual experiences that help people feel seen, empowered, and grounded whether through custom commissions, zines, or ready-to-download affirmations and sticker packs. Right now, I’m focused on expanding my digital product shop and bringing more healing-centered art into the world, one design at a time.
Appreciate your sharing that. Let’s talk about your life, growing up and some of topics and learnings around that. What part of you has served its purpose and must now be released?
The part of me that believed I had to earn rest, love, or creativity through overworking and overgiving has served its purpose and it’s time to let it go. That survival mode version of me carried me through some incredibly hard seasons, and I’m grateful for her resilience. But I no longer want to create from burnout or define my worth by how much I produce or how selfless I can be.
I’m learning that softness, joy, and slowness are not luxuries they’re necessary. That I can lead, love, and create from a place of ease and embodiment, not just urgency. So I’m releasing the hyper-independence and the fear of letting people in. I’m choosing rest as ritual, and trusting that I don’t have to hustle to be held.
What’s something you changed your mind about after failing hard?
I used to believe that failure meant I wasn’t cut out for something that it was a sign to shrink, pivot, or prove myself all over again. But after failing hard at things I cared deeply about, projects, relationships, opportunities. I’ve learned to see failure differently. Now, I see it as the universe trying to teach me something important. Each “failure” is really a lesson in disguise, showing me what I need to grow, stretch, and get closer to my higher purpose.
I’ve reframed failure into a series of teachable moments. Instead of asking, “Why didn’t this work?” I ask, “What is this trying to teach me?” That shift has helped me loosen my grip, release perfectionism, and trust the timing of my becoming. Failure doesn’t mean I’m not ready, it often means I’m being prepared for something greater, something more aligned. And that’s a lesson I’m finally willing to receive.
Next, maybe we can discuss some of your foundational philosophies and views? What truths are so foundational in your life that you rarely articulate them?
One foundational truth I carry is that healing is generational work and creativity is one of the ways I participate in that healing. I don’t always say it out loud, but every piece I create every zine, workshop, sticker, or lettering design is a reclamation. It’s me rewriting the narratives I inherited and offering the tools I wish I had when I was younger.
Another truth: rest is sacred. I was taught to hustle, overextend, and prove my worth through what I produce. But deep down, I know that rest, softness, and slowness are not luxuries they are resistance, survival, and necessary for my longevity as an artist and healer.
And here’s one I’m still learning to name: I have a deep fear of being seen. Not the curated kind of visibility, but the raw, full-spectrum kind where my flaws, grief, rage, and tenderness exist without performance. And yet, the paradox is… I create to help others feel seen. That truth keeps me grounded. Even when I want to hide, it reminds me that my visibility isn’t just about me it’s about legacy. It’s about showing up anyway.
Okay, so let’s keep going with one more question that means a lot to us: What do you think people will most misunderstand about your legacy?
I think people might misunderstand my legacy as being just about the art. The vibrant designs, the typography, the aesthetics. And while those are part of it, they’re just the entry point. What I’m really building is a language of care for people who’ve been overlooked, for stories that have been erased, for younger versions of ourselves who never had the words.
Because I move between so many roles artist, educator, healer, designer, entrepreneur I know some folks might try to box me into one lane or focus on the visual impact without fully understanding the emotional, spiritual, and political roots underneath it. My legacy isn’t just about what I created—it’s about how I made people feel, how I helped them come home to themselves, how I modeled what it looks like to build something meaningful without burning out or betraying yourself.
And if I’m being honest, part of me fears being misunderstood entirely. That the softness, the slowness, the behind-the-scenes labor of healing won’t be seen as real work. But maybe that’s the work of the legacy itself to challenge what we’ve been taught to value, and to show that tenderness is a strength, not a liability.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://jjtypography.com
- Instagram: @jjtypography
