Tei Shi on Creativity, Independence, and Resilience
Independent, unapologetic, and endlessly inventive, Tei Shi continues to redefine what it means to be an artist fully in control of her own vision.
Born Valerie Teicher, the Colombian-Canadian singer, songwriter, and producer has spent over a decade crafting a sound that is both intimate and expansive — a hypnotic blend of R&B, dream pop, and electronic experimentation. Her music, often described as ethereal yet grounded, reflects not only her technical skill as a producer but also a fearless emotional honesty that resonates deeply across her body of work.
Beyond her sound, Tei Shi’s journey is one of marked resilience and committed self-determination. Navigating the challenges of the music industry — from label disputes to the pressures of creative expectation — she has consistently fought to maintain control over her art, her life, and her career. Through a deeply personal process informed by years of self-reflection, therapy, and a commitment to her physical and mental well-being, Tei Shi has powerfully proved that creativity and care can harmonically coexist.
With her newest work, Make believe I make believe, she not only expands the boundaries of her sound but also underscores her ongoing dedication to imagination, self-expression, and ardent creative freedom.
From her fearless approach to music to her uncompromising dedication to self-expression, Tei Shi stands as a trailblazer for independent artists, a guiding voice for women claiming their power in a male-dominated industry, and a living reminder that true artistry flourishes when rooted in authenticity and self-love.
KP: I want to start off with your newest release — which I love — Make believe I make believe. Titles are so important to me, and I give a lot of thought to them while listening to a record. What did this title mean to you?
TS: I think I’ve always gravitated toward things that feel a little abstract, like they come from the subconscious. This title felt very much that way to me.
It actually started from a lyric — the first song I wrote for the album, which was also the first single, “Best Be Leaving,” there’s a line that says: “Shadow looking on from the sky / How do I / Make believe, I make believe? / When you waste so much of my time?”
It was this question that I was asking to some greater power — like, how do I keep tapping into that ability to make believe, to imagine, to create, when there are so many distractions, when there’s so much darkness, when there’s so much that pulls you away from that source?
Those lyrics just came out of my mouth without me really knowing what they meant. I remember thinking that line sounded weird, and maybe I’d change it later. But it kept coming back to me, circling around in my mind, and I liked it more and more. Eventually, it grew on me to the point where it just felt like the right title for the album.
This album, in general, was a real effort of envisioning and manifesting exactly what I wanted it to be. To make it, I had to get back to a really good place with myself and my creativity — to feel like I could trust my intuition again. I think the album speaks to that: to something evocative and meaningful, but hard to fully explain.
Which, honestly, is how I’d describe my music in general.
KP: To go deeper into that, the album has been described as “your most expansive project yet… grounded, confident, and free.” That resonated with me, and I definitely think that comes across within its sonic landscape. What does this record mean to you?
TS: To me, this record really represents a very specific point in my life where I was able to tap into myself and create something in a concentrated place and time. I’ve kind of stopped looking at albums or records as these big, monumental things that have to mean something huge. For me, they’re more like steps — each project is just a step forward in life.
This album, especially, felt like me stepping out of a lot of the bullshit — the stuff that weighed on me for years while navigating the industry and the business — and into a place where I could really enjoy myself and my life again. I was able to rediscover, in a really pure way, the joy of making music, of recording, of putting together an album.
It was such a loving and centered project to make. It didn’t come together in bits and pieces that dragged on for years; it all happened at once, very naturally. So more than anything, the album represents a moment where I was fully stepping into my independence — creatively and professionally.
Even though it’s not my first independently released album — Valerie, which I put out last year, was technically the first — this one feels different. With Valerie, I started the process while I was still in a situation with a label and management. By the time it came out, I had managed to get myself out of that deal, so it ended up being released independently.
But this new album was the first one where I came into it already independent, already free. From the very beginning, I knew that I was going to make it and release it on my own terms. I followed that through from start to finish.
So, more than anything, it represents this new chapter in my life — one where I’m in a much better place, leaning into joy, laughter, and playfulness, and exploring things beyond just my anger or sadness.
KP: To expand on that, you’ve been very candid about feeling overlooked or undermined within the industry. What has been the most difficult part of navigating those challenges, and where do you feel the strength has come from for you to persevere?
TS: Yeah, I think this is a tough one, because I definitely still feel those things. I still feel that way within the industry and within the discourse around it. It really is a daily reminder to choose to focus on the good things — the positive things. There will always be challenges, but it’s about not overlooking the small positives and putting more of my energy into them, rather than into the disappointments or the things that I don’t have or didn’t get.
That shift took me years to really work on, but finding my way back to myself helped a lot. It’s what allows me to ride out the storms — because at the end of the day, I know that I’m stable. I’m strong in myself, in my work, in my talent, in my skills, and in my potential. I know that I’m still tied to that strength.
So when I go through the ups and downs, the obstacles, the rejection, the disappointment — I’m able to check back in with myself and say, “No, no, no — you’re that bitch.” [Laughs] That feeling is hard to come by unless it’s genuine. And for it to be genuine, you really have to work on it.
For me, getting out of a lot of really toxic situations — relationships, contracts, environments — helped me reconnect with myself and what I’m capable of on my own. That’s given me back a lot of confidence.
As for the strength to persevere, it’s definitely touch and go, but I keep moving forward because I keep feeling called to sing and to write songs. As long as I feel that pull, that tie, I’m always going to come back to it. I realized that the thing I really needed to nurture was my relationship with myself — and with how I create, what I make. That wasn’t an overnight process; it took time and focus, and it’s still a balance.
KP: As someone who has already been through so much on your journey, what advice would you lend to women about perseverance?
TS: Figure out what that thing is that truly pulls you. What got you into this in the first place? What’s the thing that, at the end of the day, you can’t wait to do? If it’s writing songs, focus on that. If it’s performing live, focus on that. If it’s connecting with an audience, focus on that.
It’s so easy to become disconnected from that place of inspiration, for it to get clouded or tainted. So my advice would be to identify what that thing is and protect it at all costs. Protect it so that, no matter how many bruises or beatings you take, you can always come back to yourself and say, “Okay — I can’t wait to open my computer, to dive into this song idea, and to lose myself in it.”
That will always be the guiding force. If you’re an artist, that thing that pulls you to create — that’s what’s going to keep pushing you forward. Anytime I’ve felt like I’m done or at the end of my rope, I’ll get into the studio, make something that excites me, and suddenly I’m back, I’m motivated again.
That’s the most important thing to protect: peace.
“For me, getting out of a lot of really toxic situations — relationships, contracts, environments — helped me reconnect with myself and what I’m capable of on my own. That’s given me back a lot of confidence.”
KP: That’s the most priceless gift.
Speaking of challenges, your second record, La Linda, was removed from streaming services after you served your ex-label with a cease and desist after they failed to pay you what they owed you. I can’t imagine how heartbreaking that must have been — to have this massive labor of love stripped from you very much feels like salt in a wound.
You’ve since gone independent as an artist, even self-releasing this latest record.
How did you process that great moment of loss — of both yourself and that record — both personally and creatively? Do you feel that such a monumental setback served as fuel for the rest of your career?
TS: That album meant a lot to me, and the process of making it was pretty excruciating. Trying to get the label behind it — to acknowledge it, to agree to release it, and to actually do their job — was years of pulling teeth. By the time the album finally came out, I was just happy for it to be out in the world.
But then time went by, and I still hadn’t been paid my advance for the album. None of the producers who worked on it had been paid either, even though the record had been out for quite some time. When it hit the two-year mark and I had tried every possible way to get the label to answer me, to pay me, and to pay the people who had contributed to it, this became the last resort.
So yeah — I had the album taken down, which is something that I absolutely did not want to do. That’s the last thing that any artist wants to do after releasing an album. But ultimately, it was what I had to do to get paid and to make sure everyone that else was paid too. And it worked.
At the end of the day, I’m proud that I was able to do that — but it was heartbreaking. It was stressful and scary to know that my album was taken down, and that if they didn’t want to bring it back, it might never return. There were other heartbreaks, too — songs being removed because the label hadn’t cleared samples properly, and just an endless series of issues that followed in the aftermath of that record.
I’m just glad that in the end, I got paid and that the album is still out there.
The way that I processed that moment was by focusing on the present. At the time, I had just started working on my third album, Valerie, so I threw myself into that. I stayed motivated by what I was creating and kept my eyes on what was ahead — or really, on staying grounded in the present while looking towards the future. That’s how I managed to put the loss and heartbreak of that album aside until it was finally resolved.
That setback definitely taught me things. It taught me not to be so afraid of rocking the boat or putting myself in a potentially compromised position — because, ultimately, I was standing up for what was right for me and for the people who helped make that record.
KP: I can’t imagine going through that as an artist and I am so happy that you all got your justice in the end.
In hindsight, do you view that painful chapter as a necessary turning point toward independence, or something that you are ultimately still healing from?
TS: I do. It really put the nail in the coffin, so to speak, in terms of the kinds of conversations and partnerships that I was willing to entertain after that. Unfortunately, at that time, I was also in a new label situation that went south shortly after — which became a whole new heartbreak.
But that whole experience showed me the patterns and recurring situations that I kept finding myself in — that kind of déjà vu of being back in the same predicaments — forced me to do a lot of self-reflection and to evaluate how I wanted to move forward and operate in this industry.
So yes, it was a turning point — one that was necessary, even though I wish it hadn’t happened that way. I’m glad for what it taught me, but I’m still healing from it. There’s still a lot tied up in that album for me.
At the end of the day, it’s a part of my story — one that, as painful as it was, needed to happen.
KP: You’ve spoken very freely about the record label system, being one that — ironically — systemically works against the grain of art, artists, and creation itself. You said that you felt heartbreak over losing the ability to decide when and what to release, and that listening to too many outside opinions ruined your way of creating.
How do you feel that you ultimately found your way back to your authentic process of creation?
TS: The way that I ultimately found my way back to my authentic creative process came through a series of really intense periods of growth and change in my life. I think I kind of had to hit rock bottom — both personally and creatively — before I could start rebuilding.
It took several years of therapy, a lot of reading, and turning to different resources that helped me work through that. For example, the book The Artist’s Way really helped me get out of writer’s block and back to a place where I felt that I could generate ideas again — where I could actually tap into my creativity.
Liberating myself from my label deal and my management — and getting to a truly independent place — was what ultimately gave me the freedom to reconnect with my own voice. But it didn’t happen overnight. It took about half a year of trying to write music, hitting walls, feeling frustrated, being really hard on myself, and genuinely believing that I’d lost it. Eventually, I had to tell myself to just stop trying for a while.
During that time, I absorbed as much nurturing and inspiring material as I could — things outside of music — and I did a lot of writing just for myself. There were a lot of tools involved, and honestly, it was about a two-year process of moving from a very dark place into one that felt centered and empowered.
All of those things helped me. I really had to take that time to step away and make changes in my life, so that when I finally came back to writing, I was in a place where I could genuinely access myself again.
“Be provocative. Women who push boundaries make an impact.”
KP: You’ve been open about living with a chronic pain condition for twelve years, at one point needing to take a total pause for an extended period of time to focus on your own healing and recovery.
In a world and industry that seems to averse to slowing down and practicing self-care, how did stepping away from work shift your perspective on what kind of artist — and person — you want to be?
TS: I’ve had chronic pain for over a decade, and it’s been a part of my journey and my struggle in this career. I really didn’t get to a place of truly dealing with it and rehabilitating myself until all of the things I was talking about earlier happened — the massive disappointments, heartbreaks, and frustrations. I felt like I had completely lost control of my life and my future, and my pain intensified during that period.
This was around the time that my second album deal was falling apart, and I ended up in the same kind of situation I had faced with my first label. I went through a period where my pain completely took over. I couldn’t use my hands properly, couldn’t walk more than five or ten minutes at a time. Physically, I was the opposite of rehabilitated — everything was at its worst. And all of this was happening while the pandemic was still raging.
In a way, that period gave me the chance to completely unplug and step away without the pressure of the world moving on without me — though, of course, I did feel that way sometimes. I had to dedicate myself entirely to my well-being. I stopped answering emails and took a break from everything so I could get myself to a better place and prepare to start the legal process of getting out of my deal.
For about six months, I focused intensely on healing. That included physical therapy, talk therapy, rest, meditation, mindfulness, the right medication, doctors’ visits, research, and reading. I basically retrained my nervous system and got myself to a place where I felt I could begin taking on what I needed to take on. It was intense, but it was necessary.
I’m really thankful and grateful that I did it. I wish that I hadn’t had to go through all the external pressures that brought me there, but it taught me a lot. Now, I feel in a very different place with my chronic pain. I know how to handle myself, what helps, what harms me, and I’ve become much more patient and forgiving with myself.
KP: As women suffer with a large percentage of chronic pain conditions disproportionately, how did you allow yourself both the grace and the agency to slow down? What do you feel has helped you manage flare-ups overall?
TS: What has helped me the most is seeing how much I could heal myself through therapy — especially mindfulness and meditation techniques. Experiencing the impact of these practices on my physical pain was mind-blowing. Now, I have tools that I can rely on when a flare-up starts. I can de-escalate it faster and more effectively than before, largely because I’ve learned how much anxiety affects pain.
Compassion and patience with yourself go a long way when you live with chronic pain. Everyone goes through periods of physical discomfort, whether or not they have chronic pain. Learning patience with yourself — and understanding that our bodies respond to how we treat and talk to ourselves — has been huge for me.
I feel in a much better place now. I feel in control of my life. Even when I experience ups and downs, I know that I am accountable to myself and not held hostage by external circumstances. There’s a lot to it, but ultimately, I feel stronger, more centered, and more capable than ever.
KP: Regarding that time that you gave yourself to heal, you said that you shattered the myth of the tortured artist for yourself. What led you to reject that idea, and why do you think that the image of the suffering artist is still so pervasive in music culture?
TS: I remember really thinking about this idea of the “tortured artist” and having to let it go over the course of a few years. For a long time, I bought into the idea that you make your best work when you’re suffering — that if you can’t have a super healthy, happy life and relationships, your ideas will dry up and you’ll lose inspiration.
I was even resistant to relationships that were good for me, and kept going back to ones that weren’t. Partly, I think, because I subconsciously felt those struggles fueled my creativity and inspiration. But that’s just not the case.
I had to end up in a really loving and supportive relationship, and get myself to a good state of well-being just to survive. And in doing so, I realized that actually contributed to my creativity. The healthier I was, the more secure I felt, the happier I was day to day — and the more I was able to write and create. When I was in a bad place, I sometimes had flashes of great ideas, but most of the time, I was so weighed down by my emotions and frustrations that I was creatively blocked.
I also had a lot of dialogue around the idea of “being an artist” in the music industry, where you’re told you have to give it everything — sacrifice everything in your life, be in the studio every hour of every day, hustle, grind, repeat. I absorbed some of that from the culture and from people on my team, from those in control of my career. But I realized that didn’t work for me. Maybe it works for some people, but for artists like me, we actually need to feel safe and stable in order to play, imagine, and feel inspired.
Over the course of a few years, I broke that concept for myself. And it came hand in hand with everything else that we’ve been talking about.
The important takeaway for me is that you don’t have to be falling apart — on the brink of death — or tortured to be a “glorified artist.” That’s just bullshit.
KP: What do you feel makes a provocative woman?
TS: I think what makes a provocative woman is someone who is willing to live for herself and act on her desires, thoughts, and impulses. It’s also a woman who demonstrates herself through her actions and what she puts out into the world, rather than just what she says or talks about. I always think: don’t talk about it, be about it.
Be provocative. Women who push boundaries make an impact. They are in touch with themselves, their emotions, their desires, and their ambitions. They’re unafraid to fight for what they want, to crawl through the mud to get there, and they won’t be deterred.
Photography (in order of appearance): Danica Robinson, Joaquin Castillo, Danica Robinson
