Additional photos by Miriam Strong and Colin Tuff

I’m Rosa ter Kuile, and I work under the name RTiiiKA (“ahteeka”). I’m a Bristol, UK-based artist and live illustrator. My work involves mural-making, illustration, and academic collaborations. Queer pleasure and humour are key themes in my work. My recent exhibition Monkey Business explores the diverse expressions of biological sex and sexual behavior in the animal kingdom. I’m interested in drawing in a way that can translate an idea using very simple methods. I work from my studio at Centrespace, the oldest creative co-op in the heart of the city.

It’s important to me to share knowledge and help other artists get a foot in the door. That’s why I started Bristol Mural Collective. It’s a group that exists to support anyone interested in painting murals, and it’s open to people of all skill levels. There are so many questions you have when you start, and it’s really become a thriving community that runs paint jams, organises socials, and helps each other out with questions.

As a self-taught artist, my route hasn’t really been linear. I always enjoyed making posters, birthdays cards, funny signs in my window for passersby to see. I wrote about public art when I did my bachelor’s in Amsterdam, and after an internship, I soon realised I didn’t want to be on the admin side of things. I then worked at food markets and as a cycle courier for some years before realising if I really wanted to be an artist, I should actually try. I was 25 then, which already felt like a late start. I’ve slowly navigated a creative career since.

I dabbled in designing websites, doing drag, puppetry, and formed a band before I settled into the groove that felt right, somewhere between art, design, and community-based practice. It’s been eight years now, and I feel very lucky to be where I am. The last delivery job I had was also the place I made my first mural. I asked the boss if I could paint a big brick wall, and he agreed and said he’d pay for the materials. I still have the 20£ that he paid, as it seemed like a big deal to me—my first creative money! I don’t take it for granted that it’s a huge privilege to be able to work as an artist. Around the same time, I landed a part-time social media job with Rising Arts Agency, which taught me a lot about the nuts and bolts of producing and valuing creative work and also introduced me to many arts organisations in Bristol. 

I like when my art introduces me to new people or ideas. Last year, I made an exhibition about animal sexuality that sprang from a conversation I had with two friends: a monkey researcher and a gender specialist. Someone came to the exhibition who worked with PhD engineering-biology students. She was looking to work with an artist to help create materials for an exhibition based on the ethical implications of the field. We ended up creating eight artworks, including a lost poster for a mini-mammoth and a bio-engineered breastmilk supermarket offer. 

Following my own passions is also important to me. Like the Heartbreak Repair Kits I made, a practical kit for cyclists going through breakups. I asked 40 people what their advice on ways to heal a broken heart. I wrote their answers on puncture repair rubbers. I also added in lube sachets, which is not bike lube. The labels were printed on an old letterpress with the Department of Small Works.

Most of all, I love the variety of the work I do. Some days, I’m doing live illustration for conferences around temporal justice. Others, I’m working with a community group to gather ideas for a mural or making a cover image for a podcast about European housing policies.

It’s no secret that I really like road lines and signs. Anything to do with how information gets relayed to people in public spaces. I especially like it when you can see a human made it, like it’s a bit wonky. I also enjoy the patchwork quality of roadworks in the UK, these random squares that cut straight through double lines. I also like non-road-related things. I love work that has humour. I think Olympia Zagnoli makes brilliantly simple work, and I wish I could paint like Nick Dahlen. Keith Haring was a big influence on my linework. And street artists like Jeroen Erosie who take urban structures and transform them into art. But now I’m talking about roads again!

When I’m not working, I enjoy cycling, running, and cooking. I am a messy baker, and I don’t measure my ingredients. I’ve also gotten into embroidering, which I’m trying to do instead of doomscrolling. It’s not really working. I also started going to the gym. I join classes because I like someone telling me what to do. I think this is a consequence of being freelance. It’s the one area where I don’t have to make decisions for myself. A while back, I also tried to learn Greek and play the guitar. I tried to be in a band but found out I’m a bit too much of a dictator for that to work. I was also not very talented at guitar. In another life, I would like to be a dancer and skateboarder.

Cycling has had a significant impact on me. My parents are Dutch, and we grew up with multiple bikes in the shed. Cycling was not seen as an identity, but more a convenient way of moving through the world. I like to think that there is a bike for everybody.

I learnt how to bikepack from a young age from my mum, who took me on short bike camping trips every summer with a friend. I only realised later what a gift that was. There’s so much you learn by doing: cooking for yourself, asking for permission to pitch a tent (or not), feeling comfortable with strange noises, knowing what to take with you. It instilled confidence in me. My dad would show me how to repair things and comment that I didn’t look after my bike well enough. His voice is still in my head when I don’t feel like cleaning my bike. 

When I was 25, I decided to cycle to Cyprus from England as a travelling puppeteer. Had I ever performed as a puppeteer? No! Imagine a fully loaded bike with four panniers and a tent. I left on January 4th. The whole trip turned out differently than planned: I injured myself after a week (too cold, too heavy), spent six weeks recovering while working in a kitchen (learnt to make good sauces), and didn’t do any puppeteering whatsoever. But this trip really changed my life. I eventually made it to Cyprus by aeroplane. I decided I wanted to pursue a creative career. I moved to Bristol, which seemed like a good place to do that. 

Recently, I started making bike portraits, which has been a really lovely way of connecting with cycling culture again. I illustrated 45 bikes in four hours at the Rapha’s Womens 100 event. I love to see people showing up with any type of bike. The industry is filled with new gadgets and products, and I appreciate the DIY, like the audax guys still following printed-out cues. That being said, I got a shiny new purple bike last year.

Cyclists love to see what I’m making, and everyone has a name for or a story about their bike. I also loved being at Bespoked in Manchester this year, drawing the custom builds and meeting a lot of men with moustaches. Of course, now I want to get one of those tall bikes, which is a problem. I look forward to exploring that space more. I also make bespoke portraits, which make great gifts for cyclists who already have too many bikes and gadgets.

Looking to the future, I’d love to work at more cycling events! Like the Brompton championships or Le Tour de Femmes. More installations, 3D work. I love learning about new materials. I want to make art on tarmac using the tools that road line painters use. I’d also like to draw on bike frames! Make cycling clothing collection. Paint a multistory building. I have my IPAF licence, so now I just need to find a good canvas.

I’m currently working on my first large public art commission in Bristol. I can’t share more than that now, but if things go smoothly, it will be visible to the public in the spring/summer of 2026.

Rosa’s Illustration Tools

Featured Illustration

My featured illustration is from What Road Signs Teach Us, a zine I made when I was feeling very lost, scared, and in love. There was something comforting about the simplicity of the signs and connecting them to what I was experiencing. I also made them into huge bus stop prints, and they were installed across Bristol as little subvertising ad breaks.

You can find more of Rosa’s work on her website, online store, and Instagram.

Further Reading

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