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Digital Shaped a New Kind of Creative Director

You might expect creative directors to be digitally native these days, but this was not always the case. When I entered the advertising industry agencies hired people like me for our digital experience. Traditional creative leaders barely understood what digital was, never mind how to deliver it. Let me take you through that journey so you can see why this background produces creative leaders who are operating on an entirely different level.

I spent more than a decade working independently before I joined Ogilvy. I started designing in 1998, taught myself everything and delivered full projects end to end. Back then the only work you could consistently find online was traditional advertising, so I learned the industry by studying the best print, TV and brand campaigns from around the world. That exposure shaped my sense of craft and helped me understand how traditional creative thinking worked long before I ever entered an agency.

In 2007 I was approached to be a Creative Director at a digital agency, but after six months I left and continued on my own. When the recession hit in 2008 I had to explore new options, and in 2009 I entered the advertising world full time.

My move into advertising was not a natural transition. Traditional agencies were built around writers and art directors, and digital was treated as an add on rather than a core part of the work. The digital landscape itself was still taking shape. We were building microsites, putting local brands online for the first time, creating rich media banner ads, experimenting with early social media, exploring mobile formats and figuring out how to bring technology into campaign ideas in ways people had never seen before. I stepped into environments where digital was expected, but very few people understood the channels, the platforms or the production required to make any of it work.

That gap in understanding meant I ended up carrying far more responsibility than the title suggested. I was expected to lead digital, but I was also expected to support traditional teams, help shape campaigns, guide the craft, ensure the ideas could live across channels and solve the technical challenges that came with them. I was directing visuals one moment, shaping interaction flows the next, reviewing code, fixing production problems, helping pitch ideas and building the assets needed to bring everything to life.

At the same time digital teams were rarely given the support that matched the expectations placed on us. Traditional teams had established roles, departments and processes behind them, while digital was expected to deliver at the same level with a fraction of the time, budget and resources. We often had no writers dedicated to digital, no art directors who understood the medium, no motion or animation support and limited development capacity. Budgets were smaller, timelines were tighter and the pressure was higher, yet the work still had to feel seamless within integrated campaigns.

It also meant I stepped into leadership with a very specific challenge. I was highly skilled in the work because I had done everything myself for years, but that did not mean I had a team who could deliver at the same level from the start. I had to learn how to articulate direction clearly, guide people through execution and trust them to carry ideas forward, even when I knew I could produce the work faster and to a higher standard. Balancing that with the expectations of clients, the demands of production and the speed of agency life became one of the most intense parts of the role.

As digital expectations grew the traditional side of the agency relied on me more than anyone realised. I was pulled into campaign development, pitch strategy, brand work and anything that required a deeper understanding of how ideas translated into real experiences. While traditional creative directors had writers, art directors and production teams supporting them, I often had to cover multiple disciplines myself while helping lift the broader creative department at the same time.

A lot of the work that won integrated awards in those years only qualified because the digital teams made it real. We built the microsites, the experiences, the mobile components, the social integrations, the data capture and the interactive mechanics that allowed traditional ideas to be entered into bigger categories. In many cases we even hosted elements on our own servers just to ensure the work existed online. Yet our names were rarely included in the credits, even when the work could not have been entered without what we built. And when it came to entering our own digital work we almost never had the budget, because our departments were consistently underfunded despite carrying the heaviest load.

On top of all that there was almost no operational support. Traditional teams had traffic managers, producers and well defined structures behind them. Digital teams often had none of that. We were writing briefs, estimating work, scoping development, managing production, handling QA, preparing files, coordinating with media teams and chasing down missing assets while still delivering the creative. It was leadership, production and execution all happening at once, every day, with no buffer and no safety net.

The further I moved into senior roles the more this complexity increased. I was running digital, supporting traditional campaigns, leading pitches, shaping technical solutions, guiding creative teams, educating clients and filling the gaps between departments because digital touched everything. Traditional structures were not built for this level of integration, so I had to create my own ways of working, define new processes and build bridges between teams so the work could move faster and with more consistency.

As the role expanded I was also expected to take on the leadership responsibilities that come with senior creative positions. This included hiring, giving feedback, managing performance, handling sensitive conversations and making decisions that affected people and the business. I had run my own studio for years, but formal HR practice was completely new to me. There was no handbook and very little support. I learned how to lead teams in real time while carrying all the creative, technical and operational responsibility the work demanded. Far more than my fellow creative directors shouldered in the traditional side of the agency, this was handled by our ECD.

Despite everything the work still had to be delivered at the same standard as traditional campaigns. Clients did not care about the lack of support or the limitations we faced. They expected the work to look polished, feel seamless and function perfectly. Every digital asset had to be designed, developed, tested, refined and launched with the same level of craft associated with TV, print, radio, activation and brand work. There were no shortcuts, and the pressure to get it right was constant.

Traditional teams had dedicated DTP artists, film crews, photographers, retouchers, sound engineers and production partners behind them, while digital teams often had none of that support. We had to source imagery, create motion, design interactions, test functionality and build entire experiences with limited help. Every component had to be crafted by hand, and the responsibility for quality landed entirely on us.

On top of that we were building work for channels that changed constantly. Platforms updated, browsers broke things, devices behaved differently and nothing stayed stable for long. Every project required new problem solving, new methods and new technical decisions. Traditional campaigns could rely on fixed formats. Digital work had to adapt in real time, and the pressure to keep up never stopped.

All of this happened while still carrying the expectation to contribute to traditional creative work. I was brought into print reviews, TV concepts, radio scripts, activation ideas and brand discussions because my perspective helped strengthen the work. Even without formal training in those disciplines I could hold my own, guide direction and help sell the ideas. Years of learning from traditional work gave me an instinct for it, and that made it easier to bridge the gap between old and new ways of thinking.

That ability to move between worlds became one of the biggest advantages people like me brought into agencies. Traditional teams understood storytelling, craft and brand, but digital required a level of technical depth they were not equipped for yet. I understood both, so I became the person people turned to when ideas needed to work across every channel. It meant more responsibility, more pressure and less room for mistakes, but it also meant the work reached a higher standard because every angle was considered.

We also had to fight for equipment that could keep up with the work. We were not only surfing for inspiration, doing mockups, moodboards and pitch decks, we were designing full experiences, creating motion, exporting assets, testing builds and preparing production files that pushed machines to their limits. Slow hardware did not just make the work frustrating, it added hours to already tight timelines. Yet our budgets for tools, software and machines were minimal. Traditional teams had production partners and established pipelines. Digital had to deliver everything with underpowered equipment and shared resources, even as the expectations kept rising.

Many days were spent educating the agency as much as producing the work. I was explaining platforms, formats, constraints, possibilities and risks to people who had never worked in digital but were expected to sell it. I had to translate technical challenges into language clients could understand, guide account teams through decisions they had never managed before and teach creatives how to integrate digital thinking into their ideas. It was part leadership, part production and part ongoing education, all happening alongside the actual delivery of the work.

Client expectations added another layer of pressure. Digital was still new to many of them, so they wanted certainty in a space that changed every few weeks. We had to reassure them, manage their fears, guide their decisions and take responsibility for outcomes even when the platforms, tools or technologies were unpredictable. Traditional campaigns had decades of precedent. Digital had none. Everything we delivered carried risk, and every problem became our problem to solve.

Inside the agency that responsibility expanded even further. I was pulled into every pitch that required a digital layer, and almost every brief came with that expectation. While traditional teams could focus on concept and craft, digital had to work out how the idea would function, scale, adapt and be built. I was shaping creative, mapping interactions, exploring technology, scoping effort and helping sell the solution, often all in the same meeting. Pitch work was relentless, and digital was expected to make every idea bigger, smarter and more integrated without ever slowing the team down.

All of this happened while still running a team that needed guidance, feedback, mentoring and direction. People relied on me to help them grow, to set standards, to solve problems and to make calls when things got tough. I had to balance their development with the workload, protect them from unrealistic demands, keep the quality high and push the work forward even when the pressure was heavy. Leading a digital team meant carrying responsibility for both the people and the output at a level few truly understood.

Despite the pressure I loved the work. Digital gave me freedom to imagine things that did not exist yet and build experiences people could interact with. It let me combine design, technology, storytelling and craft in ways no other channel could. The work demanded constant learning and constant reinvention, and that challenge kept me sharp. Even in the toughest moments there was satisfaction in solving the problems, delivering the impossible and proving how powerful digital thinking could be when it was done well.

That background became even more valuable when I moved into in house product work. Instead of fast campaign cycles I was working with engineers, product managers, analysts and business teams to build systems, tools and platforms that needed long term thinking. The same instincts that helped me shape digital ideas in agencies helped me define user journeys, refine interfaces, guide content and influence brand and marketing work. I could bridge conversations between design, engineering and leadership because I understood how everything connected.

Even inside a product environment the expectations did not shrink. I was still contributing to brand, shaping creative direction for marketing, advising on campaigns and helping teams find clarity in the work. The difference was that everything had to scale. Every decision affected thousands of users instead of a single campaign cycle. The responsibility grew, but the years of navigating complexity in agencies made it easier to handle.

That is why digital creative directors bring something different to the table. We did not only learn how to give direction, we learned how every part of the work is made and how to guide it from idea to delivery under pressure most people will never see. We had to adapt to new platforms, new tools, new behaviours and constant change, long before the industry understood the value of that skill set. So when the world shifted again into product, systems, experience and now AI, it was a natural progression. The challenges we faced built creative leaders who can move across disciplines, solve problems at scale and stay ahead of whatever comes next.

Creative Direction vs Creative Director

Creative direction is a skill

Being a Creative Director is a responsibility

Over the years I have worked with people who were excellent at giving creative direction. They could shape ideas, guide tone, and bring a vision to life. The skill usually grows out of art direction or copywriting. In traditional agencies it meant defining the strategic and creative vision for a project, campaign or brand.

Giving creative direction means being able to articulate what needs to be done without being a dictator. It is about setting a clear vision, giving your team enough to build from, and having the taste to pull the right levers at the right time. Talent, experience and intuition come together here, shaping something people are proud of, aligned on, and capable of executing. Years of curiosity, exposure and craft eventually turn into creative instinct.

Good creative direction is storytelling. It helps people see where the idea could go and gives them confidence to explore it. At this level you might be leading one project or several, but the focus remains on the work. Management plays a smaller role while creative problem solving takes priority.

Being the Creative Director is different. The moment the title lands, the focus shifts from what is made to how it is made, and by whom. That is where the difference really shows.

Giving creative direction shapes the work.
A Creative Director shapes the environment where that work happens.

You are no longer just guiding an idea. Now the responsibility includes everything that surrounds it, from structure and people to culture and rhythm. Hiring, budgets, performance and growth become part of the job. Rituals are created to bring consistency and stability. Thinking expands beyond the creative outcome toward the creative function itself.

Many people who grow into this role struggle with the balance. The creative power is appealing, yet the admin and accountability are heavy. Endless meetings, budget discussions and constant context switching make the job less glamorous than the title suggests. Instead of being the one who gives creative direction, you become the one who holds the space for others to do it.

For me, this became even more complex working as a Digital Creative Director. Responsibility extended across visuals, copy, UX, technology and production. Managing structure, workflow and culture added another layer, especially in environments where senior leadership did not understand digital. That experience taught me that creative direction is earned through responsibility, not only through instinct. I will write more about that in a follow up article because it deserves its own space.

Creative direction shapes the work.
The Creative Director shapes the people behind it.
That balance defines real leadership.

The best leaders learn to do both.

Living in the Maker’s Mind

I sometimes wonder why I am so detached from reality and why most of my mental space is occupied by things that seem impossible to do. Yet I am more comfortable in that headspace than I am in reality. While some people think of fantasy as dragons, castles, monsters, and mystery, for me fantasising is where I go to get into real technical detail.

AI is helping me refine this even more. I only get to talk it out and let it help me with research. I know there are tools out there that can visualise my thinking, but very few have the level of precision I hold in my mind. That makes using them frustrating because no tool yet allows me to fully visualise my endless ideas. I have to assume Elon Musk is like this except he has the money to build anything he can think of.

Like all things my ideas happen in waves. Sometimes I am exploring all manner of things, sometimes I am obsessing over just one, and other times I am not thinking of anything at all. I do not know if my ideas are good but they seem worth exploring and I can spend every free moment turning them over.

I am certain I am a visual thinker as Temple Grandin describes in her book. The more time I give myself to think free of life’s distractions the more detailed my thoughts become. I often imagine being asked to live in a house with everything I could ever want inside and I ask myself whether I could stay there for 100 days or even a year. Honestly I think I could. The isolation appeals to me. Of course I miss physical contact but I am able to go into monk mode quite easily and could certainly stay the course if the incentive was big enough.

I do get restless and I do switch gears but most of the time I am all in. Recently I have been working on a superyacht complete with its many structural details and aligned with a lifestyle philosophy woven into the branding. Then today I found myself thinking about the perfect desk setup and spent hours piecing together the most detailed configuration of a desk for someone like me. When I go deep I do not just think about its measurements and materials I think of all the different uses, the comfort and flexibility, the customisation. I am obsessed with the details.

This is not perfectionism. That comes much later in my process and often I never get that far. I simply do not have the means. I am convinced my mind is magical but I have little evidence for people to see. At best I sketch some things on paper. The design tools available to me together with my limited experience in using them make them not an option. AI might offer some hope but nothing available right now gives me what I need.

So the ideas remain in my head. At times it feels like an absolute waste. It can be frustrating and it can pull me into darker moods. I rarely show it but the truth is that I often feel down because I cannot bring what is in my head into reality.

Still I love the world in my mind. I can create all manner of things there far beyond what I make professionally or through the teams I lead. And I have come to realise this. Even if my ideas never fully exist in the real world they still shape the way I see it. They shape how I lead, how I create, and how I push at the boundaries of what is possible.

This is living in a maker’s mind.

Products Need Vision

Too many founders start with an idea and then, possibly by no fault of their own, they end up in production. What they have not done is define a vision.

Vision is the step between idea and production. It only becomes clear if you take the time to work on it early, before you move forward with the rest of discovery.

A useful way to frame it is this: “Product vision defines the overarching purpose of a product. It outlines what the product aims to achieve for users and how it supports their needs. It captures where the product is headed and why it matters.”

That definition is useful because it sets the tone. It is about purpose, direction, and meaning. It does not dictate features or steps. That is the point. A vision gives you a boundary line. It points to a destination while leaving space for design, development and iteration to shape the journey.

When I say products need vision, I mean exactly this. Before you move into discovery or prototyping or pushing pixels, you must land on a vision that says why you are building, gives a sense of the future state, and shows who benefits, how, and why it matters.

From there everything you do, the concepts, the detail work, the engineering decisions, should be measured against that vision. If a decision does not move you closer, you question it. And when disagreements happen, which they will, the vision is the referee you return to.

I have worked for myself, in large agencies, in-house, and with product agencies that were more dev shops than product makers. If I have learned anything in my career it is that the lack of vision is why so many products fail.

If all you do is deliver, then most of the time you deliver shit. Because shit in is shit out. If you take the time to craft your idea into a vision that is grounded in input, it becomes something of possibility. It is not just a good idea, it is an informed idea wrapped in creativity and reality.

Vision is defined and articulated in a way that can bring people along the journey whether they are a designer, an engineer, or someone with business chops. It gives everyone an inspiring north star, something they can hold onto as they consider what is possible. It informs the concept, the details, and the ultimate plan forward long before pixels are pushed and code is hacked together.

It is something you can receive, rehearse, and regurgitate over and over again, convincing yourselves and the people around you to be part of something with purpose.

What happens in dev shops without vision is predictable. Everyone builds their own version of what they think the founder meant. The work drifts. The product becomes a patchwork, not a unified whole. By making vision explicit, grounded in input and articulated clearly, you give people something to rally around. You turn disagreement into progress. You make trade offs easier.

So next time you have a good idea, before you jump into lovable with dreams of putting out the next Airbnb, Uber, or Tinder, take the time to get rooted in some wisdom. Craft something with passion and with a strategy grounded in vision.

Opportunity and Talent

I am not good at everything. Nobody is. But I do know where my talents lie.

With enough effort, I could probably get by in many professions. But effort alone is not enough. There needs to be interest, even obsession. That is the fuel that makes talent grow.

Becoming a lawyer or a doctor, for example, requires a certain personality type. It looks glamorous on television, but the reality is far more demanding. I do not have what it takes to succeed in those paths. And that is fine, because there are people much smarter and better suited than me. That is why there are so many different professions in the world.

I have always been honest with myself about the things I am not good at. Basic life skills that come easily to others have never come easily to me. Sometimes I joke that I missed that class at school or that it simply was not in my DNA. It has cost me in different ways, but it has also made me lean harder into the things I can do well. In those areas, I thrive.

The truth is, talent without opportunity is wasted. I often wonder about the paths I might have taken if the right doors had opened, or if I had recognised them sooner.

Take video and film. I love everything about it: movies, series, YouTube, motion graphics, storytelling. I dabbled here and there, but I never truly had the opportunity. Growing up in South Africa, creativity did not feel like a serious path. The closest I came was working in a video store, watching everything on the shelves and becoming a movie buff. But I never broke films apart the way I once did in high school, analysing frame by frame.

Looking back, I see the moment I missed. In the 90s, I could have worked with a brilliant videographer, but I never asked for the job. I did not take the initiative. That chance slipped past.

Instead, I built websites in Flash, which led me into the career I have today. I have no regrets. But I do sometimes imagine the life I might have lived as a director, or in animation, or industrial design, or architecture. I believe I could have excelled in any of these fields. Not because I think I am naturally gifted in all of them, but because I know the way I throw myself into what captures my attention.

That is the point. We are all equipped with a range of potential talents. What we become is shaped as much by the opportunities we encounter as by the abilities we hold.

So my encouragement is simple: explore widely, experiment boldly, and do not limit yourself to one path. If something sparks your interest, dig deeper. See where it goes. If it does not, leave it behind.

There is no single route to happiness or success. Your career can be shaped in more ways than you might imagine.

The Creative Leadership Paradox

Creative leadership is not what you think it is. People hear titles like Head of Design, Executive Creative Director, or Chief something or other Officer, and assume it is glamorous. They imagine freedom, vision, status, and distance from the grind.

The reality is very different.

Creative leadership carries responsibility most people never see. It is not just about guiding design or producing ideas. It is about profitability, winning work, maintaining client confidence, carrying reputation, and being responsible for the careers of entire teams. All at once. It is accountability stacked high, and it rarely comes with the support or recognition that matches the load.

The Weight That Builds Over Years

Newly appointed design leads often admit they feel pressure after only a handful of projects. Now extend that across years, with multiple programmes running simultaneously, while also being expected to bring in new business and perform the “song and dance” to convince executives and clients that creativity deserves its place in the strategy.

Compensation does not look like the myths suggest. A handful of roles are lucrative, but most are not rewarded anywhere near the level of responsibility involved, especially compared to peers in other leadership positions with equivalent accountability.

Running a Function Means More Than Running the Work

Leading a creative department extends far beyond shaping output. It means resourcing, hiring, building career ladders, conducting reviews, mediating personality clashes, and supporting people through personal crises. Sometimes it even includes dealing with complaints as trivial as bad body odour.

And still, when you walk into the boardroom, you are reduced to “the creative one,” the person expected to tidy slides, supply ideas in hackathons, or jump into design tools at a moment’s notice. The assumption is that you operate like a junior on the tools every day, and if you hesitate, it is met with scoffs, regardless of the fact you have spent the entire week in executive meetings.

Here lies one of the hardest parts of leadership. Most of us became designers because we love the work itself. We still care about the craft, and many of us will step in when the situation demands it. But the more senior you become, the further you are pulled away from the tools. You have to learn to design through others. That means briefing, guiding, and nurturing talent rather than personally pushing every pixel. The distance is necessary, but it creates its own challenge. You are expected to represent the work at the highest level while living further away from the detail that first drew you to the field.

That shift is never fully recognised or understood.

Generalists in a World That Says “Specialise”

Budgets rarely align with ambition. Teams are hired for narrow skills, briefs expand, and gaps land on the leader. Long nights become routine, not because of desire, but because the team was never designed to cover the full scope.

Specialists are applauded in theory, yet in leadership, survival belongs to generalists. Adaptability is what keeps the team afloat.

Ahead of the Curve, but on Your Own

I have often led groups pushing ahead of the curve. It sounds exciting, but it comes with isolation. Explaining, defending, and selling work falls on your shoulders because no one else in the room understands it. Finance, operations, and core services are spoken fluently by other leaders, but creativity is left for you alone to frame and prove.

That burden is part of the territory.

The Invisible Magic

What is rarely noticed is the subtlety of the role. The real magic of creative leadership often looks invisible from the outside. It is more like whispering than shouting. Most creative leaders are nurturers, gently nudging talent forward, unlocking the genius within individuals, and moving the collective of the people they lead and the function they represent. That quiet ability to coax brilliance from others is what drives the work, yet it is almost never recognised as a skill.

Building the Plane While Taking Off

In digital, and especially in product, leadership often meant creating systems and structures while delivering in real time. Support did not exist, processes were unclear, and responsibility rested squarely on your shoulders.

Then came the boardroom reports, covering every project your team had running, stretched thin, while executives trivialised creativity because they once attended a corporate mandated design thinking workshop through their overpriced international local university.

But hey, they liked the tattoos, black t-shirts and sneakers, so I played along.

No One Trains You for This

There is no formal preparation for creative leadership. It is only learned through experience, carrying the weight, and recovering from the mistakes.

And yet when mergers, technology failures, or financial constraints arrive, creative leaders are often first in line for cuts. Not because of failure, but because the value of the role was never fully understood until the absence causes collapse. Watching people with decades of experience lose their seat at the table for reasons entirely beyond their control is the part that stings the most.

Why I Still Do It

With all the frustrations, I love what I do. Being present in decision making ensures creativity has a voice when it matters most. Experience allows teams to build work that makes an impact.

The job is not easy. It is not glamorous. It is layers of responsibility, often invisible to those sitting right beside us.

If you are stepping into creative leadership and feel the weight, know it is real. If you are an executive, understand this: we are not in the room to decorate your presentations. We are there to guide decisions that shape the future of the organisation.

That is what creative leadership really is.

Design Was the Skillset I Chose

Design is the skillset I have prioritised to leverage my creativity.

That single choice has shaped my entire career, but it could just as easily have gone another way. From the earliest descriptions of who I was, the word creative always appeared. By today’s definitions, some of the traits I carried might now be labelled differently, perhaps even as a disability, but at the time they were simply quirks that nudged me in this direction. It became the identity I took on. Whether that identity was imposed on me or the result of genuine talent is still up for debate, but I passed every test I ever took and won every art competition I ever entered.

The irony is that I am not competitive. I have never cared about competing with others, which is why I still do not value awards for their own sake. I only care how they could be leveraged to generate more business. But I was never considered a business person. Even when I turned talent into design skills, I never stood out for business acumen. I was recognised for creativity.

Still, I genuinely believe that had I pursued any other field, I would have thrived as long as I committed to it in the way I committed to design. I could have applied myself to almost anything. If you have not met me, you might be surprised to know the only thing I ever formally studied was personal training before I became a designer. If you have met me, you would probably understand.

The First Detour

I am not a bodybuilder. That is a whole other level of dedication. I have always been in good shape. That came from resisting the idea that I was useless at sport, even though I was never encouraged to play much. For the most part my family were overweight and did very little to stay in shape. My father, a pilot, was the exception, showing real athleticism through running, hiking, and keeping fit for his job. My brother and I looked different to the rest of the family, much slimmer, so at eighteen I started going to the gym to gain some muscle.

I got results quickly and learned that hard, consistent work pays off. I obsessed over training. I fantasised about bodybuilding, but I never had the discipline to build the frame required to compete. Still, I looked good enough to model and walk around with confidence. I still train with intent and consistency, and when I am not talking about design I am usually talking about fitness, nutrition, longevity and mental well being.

Early in my personal training career, I discovered I could make far more money in design with less time investment. I abandoned the idea of being a PT and committed to design. Despite once swearing I would never be a creative, and trying different paths, I found myself pulled into a career of creativity anyway.

Finding My Medium

At first, I thought I would be a graphic designer. I tried designing business cards, flyers, and letterheads. But I found web design early, and that changed everything. It was not only about visual design, I had to learn to code and build websites. That led into Flash, which opened the door to animation, illustration, sound, interaction, and experiences that were far richer than simple layouts.

I became obsessed with being an internationally recognised Flash designer. This distracted me from any other creative pursuits because I was fully committed. The more I built, the more attention I received, and the more ambitious my work became.

Over time, my skills broadened. Bigger clients demanded more than just Flash sites. I had to think about branding, campaigns, technology, and experiences. Year on year, I built range. But when the 2008 recession hit, working independently became unsustainable, and I started flirting with the idea of joining an agency.

In 2009, I entered advertising as a Creative Director.

From Designer to Leader

Being hired directly as a Creative Director meant leading from day one. I was responsible for digital and for integrating it with traditional teams, raising standards and pushing for brand building across channels. After a decade working for myself, the shift into leadership felt natural. I focused on outcomes and on helping people do the best work they could.

As a creative director my role was broad from the start. It covered brand, campaigns, digital integration and the wider picture of how creative work shapes perception and drives business. I thrived in that environment. Even without previous experience on set, without understanding why production was outsourced to directors or why DTP handled asset design, I figured it all out. I was just as comfortable concepting a TV advert as I was launching a website or planning a seasonal campaign. My personal taste and standards carried me through.

Leadership, however, was a skill I had to learn. At first, I thought I was doing fine, but in truth I was making mistakes. The difference was that I was open to guidance from great leaders, and I learned from them quickly. I applied their wisdom, caught up fast, and found success as a creative leader.

Beyond Agencies

When I left advertising, I intended to return my focus to design. But I never saw myself as only a designer. My career had taught me that my creativity had more range. I could deliver far beyond pixels. I expanded my scope into systems, product design, brand strategy, and content production at scale.

Even in my role as Chief Design Officer, where others sometimes saw the job as managing designers in Figma, I was reshaping brand perception, building a digital product function, and influencing business direction. I rebranded companies, introduced design thinking, built systems, took over social media, and spoke business with CEOs.

Creativity was always the lever I pulled. It gave me access to projects and responsibilities that others might have overlooked.

Beyond Design

Despite being boxed in at times, I have always seen myself as more than a designer. I can adapt to new tools and frameworks quickly, and I am not limited to a single discipline. Design has been my foundation, but I know I could have written, directed film, or worked in fashion with equal commitment.

Could I have been a successful businessman or CEO in any field? I believe so. But it takes only a few minutes with me to see where my instincts lie. I am creative. It is natural, it is obvious, and it has always been the constant.

Creativity as the Constant

The point is not that design was the only path open to me. It is that creativity is a transferable foundation. Once you commit to mastering a skill, the same mindset can be applied elsewhere. Design has been the skillset I prioritised to leverage my creativity, but the real story is that creativity itself is the asset.

It has carried me through industries, helped me adapt, and allowed me to thrive. Design was my chosen medium, but creativity has always been the thread running through everything I do.

We Dance The Freelance

Freelancing is one of the most immediate paths back into meaningful work when you’re in between roles. Whether you’re navigating a career shift, recently left a full-time job, or simply exploring more independent ways of working, going freelance can be a practical way to stay sharp, be visible and get paid. For some, it’s a short-term bridge. For others, it becomes the start of a more flexible, self-directed career. Either way, it requires a different level of readiness.

Clients are rarely hiring freelancers for long strategic processes. They want designers who can step in and start producing right away. That usually means being hands on with the tools, delivering quality work quickly and with minimal friction. To do that well, you need a solid setup, not just in your craft, but in how you collaborate, present and hand over work. The freelancers who are thriving are the ones who come prepared.

1. Build a rapid-start design system

You need a design system you can drop into any project and start building immediately. That means having your own component library in Figma built around best practice. Not for expressing your opinions, but for removing them when speed matters. It should include all the common UI patterns you see in every product: sign-in screens, contact forms, navigation layouts, search, account settings. Do not build these from scratch every time. Have your own system ready, but adapt it based on your target audience. If you’re working with engineering teams, align to what they already use. Tailwind, for example, is popular and has a structure that suits component-based development. If you’re working with small businesses or solo founders, then get comfortable with platforms like Webflow, Framer or even Squarespace.

2. Use templates for everything

Templates reduce decisions. The more reusable assets you have, the faster you can deliver. That means building templates not just for components, but for whole journeys, workshop boards, user flows, wireframes, proposals, content, branding and presentation decks. Create mockups of devices and everyday scenes so your work looks real and grounded in its future context. These templates do not need to be perfect, they need to be functional. They are the foundation you adapt to each client. Build them once and use them forever.

3. Prepare your UX assets

User experiences need more than screens. You need flows, customer journeys, diagrams and key moments that tie back to the story being told. These should also be templated. Every time you create a journey map from scratch, you waste time. Have one that can be tweaked quickly. Make sure it is clear enough for clients to understand, and structured enough to support buying decisions and align stakeholders. Freelance work often moves without a product manager in the room. Your job is not just to design, but to guide.

4. Preload your workshops and presentations

If you run workshops, every minute of client time matters. Prepare your Miro or Figma boards before the session starts. Have assets, instructions, flows and agendas already in place. The same goes for presenting. Your decks should not be reinvented every time. Have a base deck you simply populate. Clients want clarity, not surprises. They want to feel that you’ve done this before and can guide them through it.

5. Package your branding work

If you do visual identity work, you need a setup that makes you look fast and smart. That means having brand decks, real world mockups, and sample assets you can plug new work into. Put the logo on business cards, vehicles, T-shirts, shopfronts and devices. Most clients can’t visualise anything. That’s your job. Your deck should include logos, fonts, colours, tone of voice and guidelines. Build a template once and stop reinventing it.

6. Offer content templates that speed up execution

If your work touches content, then have templates ready for thumbnails, posts, profile layouts and advertising formats across all key platforms. Most clients will want these and they rarely come prepared. You don’t need to be a content creator, but you should know how to lay out a YouTube thumbnail, a LinkedIn carousel or a homepage hero that works. These quick wins buy you time to focus on better creative decisions elsewhere.

7. Build your own brand assets to market yourself

You are your own client too. Build your brand properly so you don’t spend time redoing it every time you post or update your site. Create your own templates, content, decks, icons, tone of voice and presentation layouts so you can focus on doing the work instead of marketing it. No one cares what your process is if the work isn’t visible.

8. Have a full business setup behind you

Being freelance means running a business. That includes contracts, quotes and invoices. These documents protect you. Brand them properly and structure them in a way that helps you look professional and experienced. If you don’t have the money to pay a lawyer, start with a strong template and get a lawyer to review it once you can afford to. Get these wrong and they will cost you.

9. Create structured communication tools

You are your own project manager. That means making it easy for clients to work with you. Start with a proper briefing questionnaire that captures what you need to begin the work. From that, create a simple briefing template that you can present back to confirm alignment. Set up project timeline boards in Notion, Trello or whatever suits your workflow, with key milestones, assets and deadlines mapped out. Use Slack channels or shared folders to keep conversations and files organised. Have clear labels, standard file naming conventions and a reliable system of version control. You will be judged by how easy you are to work with, not just how well you design.

10. Understand how engineers work

This is the part most designers skip. You do not need to code, but you do need to understand how things are built. Learn the difference between building in pages versus components. Understand how APIs, headless systems, front-end frameworks and dev handoff tools work. Ask your engineer contacts what they use. Figma to code plugins, design tokens, component libraries and naming conventions all matter. Most importantly, document your work. Do not assume that screens are enough. Leave notes, usage guides and structure your files so that they can be used without you in the room. That is the handoff.

Freelancing is not a fallback, it’s a craft of its own. The work might be temporary, but the reputation you build is permanent. Your setup is not just about speed, it’s about consistency, clarity and trust. Treat it like infrastructure. The better it runs, the more energy you have for the work itself.

If you’re serious about doing great freelance work, act like a business from day one. Build the assets, sharpen your tools, and create the kind of working environment that clients want to return to. You’re not just selling design. You’re making it easier for others to move forward.

Digital creatives it’s time to move on

Art Directors, Designers and Writers who switched from agency roles as digital creatives to in-house product designers. While many are still sitting in-house teams in tech firms, like banks and insurance companies, you’re most likely pretty bored and feeling pretty insecure as you hear rumours that there are going to be even more cuts. Any day now it could be you.

You should start your shift out of in-house and back to agency, or at least in service to agencies, more aligned to the digital creative work being done by marketing and brand teams, including everything from microsites and content creation to branding and digital art direction with emerging technologies.

While it was cushy in corporate, those opportunities are dying. Yes, it’s great being the creative in those sterile old corporate environments where you sit in a room and iterate the same old features to death. It was what everyone did and served as a great transition five to ten years ago, but that easy path is over.

It’s not too soon either, because most of you have forgotten how to create. You’ve become process and data driven, instead of being free to explore new territories. The hope of doing meaningful work is being replaced by repetitive tasks, working within the same constraints to refine a feature that will eventually die a slow death, if it sees any further improvement at all, while corporates quietly move away from design thinking in favour of vibe coding.

Everyone’s a designer now. With a short prompt, anyone can generate work that looks like it was done by the best in the industry. So what is there left to do. Unless you’re in a strong position to continue pursuing design, maybe you’ve got a foot in a startup that’s actually building AI products, you’re at risk of becoming as outdated as the corporate furniture around you.

Instead, dust yourself off. Go find that one coloured sweater and replace your black t-shirt for a while. It’s time to start vibing with AI. Explore new platforms where you can articulate what you want instead of pushing pixels. And if you’re still passionate about shaping visuals, shift your energy toward animation, 3D, or more augmented forms of content. These are exciting new fields that are less saturated and offer more potential. It will take time to get up to speed, but it’s a move worth making.

If you’re more of an art director than a hands-on pixel pusher, now is the time to learn how to work through voice or text prompts, leveraging tools that can produce content and branding assets that used to require the largest budgets. You might have to take a drop in salary, but it’s a small step back that puts you in a market that’s not nearly as flooded and genuinely in need of digital creative talent like yours.

So what now.

Start learning and making again. Reconnect with the parts of your creativity that got buried under product strategy decks and Jira tickets. Build a portfolio that shows you can create content, not just refine flows. Test new tools. Work faster. Focus your energy on the kind of work that still requires creative thinking and clear direction.

If you’re serious about staying relevant, this is the moment to act.

Create the Future of Design

It’s an exciting time to be a designer. Now is the time to elevate the work, using your passion, experience, and judgement to take your craft to a new level. The future of design is open to those who are willing to cut through the noise and lead it.

The machines have already learned everything ever designed, which means the highest standards are now available to anyone. What once took years of experience to master can now be generated. If you still have a passion for design, now is the time to learn these tools and move beyond what has already been produced.

You should be looking at the tools that are now being used to perform the tasks you once did. Figure out how they can remove the repetitive work and create more space for you to design a better, more thoughtful product experience. Use these tools to save time, and combine them with craft, good taste, and sound decisions to move your work forward.

Below are just a few tools to start with. Learn them if you want to stay competitive in the market, and once they are second nature, build on them. Use them to push the quality and ambition of your work further than before.

In early discovery, AI enables speed. Perplexity can help you explore markets, identify behavioural patterns, and review competitive products more efficiently. ChatGPT is useful for drafting briefs from loose inputs or assembling initial documents that outline direction. Notion AI supports the organisation of ideas into clearer formats. Tome enables those ideas to be presented in a coherent, visual structure without unnecessary time spent formatting. These platforms reduce friction in the early stages of thinking.

That said, choosing which signals to trust, what problems to address, and where to challenge assumptions still comes down to experience. Tools help you see more. They do not decide what is relevant.

During research, Dovetail and AskViable increase coverage by helping you transcribe sessions, extract sentiment, and cluster findings quickly. These efficiencies matter, especially in time-sensitive settings. But no system can detect hesitation in a participant’s tone, catch inconsistencies in their responses, or understand what they chose not to say. The task of interpreting meaning still belongs to the person doing the work.

For workshop preparation, FigJam AI, Whimsical, and Miro AI offer ready-made canvases, templates, and content generation. They allow you to plan collaborative sessions in far less time. Real-time synthesis features help condense insights while the session is running. But leading a workshop requires skill. You still need to follow the discussion, redirect focus if needed, and manage the energy in the room. No tool can substitute for effective facilitation.

In concept development, Galileo, Uizard, and Visily convert inputs into interface options with minimal delay. This allows for faster exploration of alternatives. You can quickly scan multiple directions, discard those that feel generic, and continue developing stronger approaches. These tools are useful for moving beyond the first idea, but they do not resolve what should be built or why. That decision still rests on purpose, not convenience.

In visual execution, Diagram and Figma’s native AI features provide layout suggestions, help with spacing, and manage repetitive actions like component creation. When used alongside a solid design system, they reduce effort and enforce consistency. But they do not account for how something feels, or whether the visual language supports the intent of the product. Assessing whether a design communicates effectively still requires human judgment.

Design systems benefit from platforms like Supernova, Locofy, and UXPin Merge, which streamline documentation, validate consistency, and translate components into code. These help close the gap between design and engineering. Even so, systems need curation. Knowing what to keep, what to remove, and how to evolve a framework requires clear ownership and ongoing input. The system reflects product priorities. Tools do not make those decisions for you.

In prototyping, tools like Framer, Anima, Locofy, and Quest AI enable designers to produce functional models with little or no handoff. This can increase alignment with engineers and help teams validate ideas earlier. But fidelity alone does not explain how an idea works. A prototype should demonstrate logic, explore edge cases, and help answer specific questions. Producing output is not the goal. Communicating purpose is.

As handoff becomes more automated, tools like Zeplin, Specify, and Relay help translate decisions into usable files while tracking updates. Code generation now includes components with production-grade formatting. But alignment with engineering depends on trust, mutual understanding, and conversation. Those relationships are not managed by software.

Testing is increasingly efficient. Maze and Useberry support unmoderated tests, collect interaction data, and surface usability issues quickly. ChatGPT helps write test scripts, group insights, and structure follow-up questions. These improvements make it easier to run tests more often. Still, observing how someone interacts with a feature, where they get stuck, or when they become disengaged tells you more than any metric. Analysis remains a human task.

In marketing, Jasper and Copy.ai create headline variants, body copy, and microtext at scale. This speeds up iteration and removes friction when trying different tones. But context still matters. Effective content reflects the product’s purpose and the audience’s expectations. Matching tone to intent is not something AI can do without direction.

You do not need to learn every tool in depth. But you should understand what they offer, where they apply, and which ones support your workflow. Choosing a reliable set of tools gives you a base to build from. Once that is established, your focus should return to the problems that need solving.

This shift expands the space in which you can apply your craft. With less time spent on repetitive production, you gain more room for exploration, clearer framing, and stronger decisions. Designers who integrate these tools effectively will not just increase their speed. They will raise the quality of their work. The machines become partners that amplify your ability and support the creation of new standards in design that you will lead.