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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.

Leadership Is Earned Through Experience

The advice that circulates around senior hiring often misses the point. Trim your history so you appear less intimidating. Add more design examples, then remove them. Keep case studies short because nobody reads, although some will argue they should be long to show the process. You may be told you are too experienced and at the same time not relevant enough. Branded too expensive, even though there has never been a conversation about money. These contradictions reveal a misunderstanding of what leadership really is.

At a certain level, the role is no longer about a title. It is about the job. With depth of experience, you move beyond the career path you first aspired to. You exceed the most senior of practitioner roles, lead people who once did what you did, and step into positions that are focused purely on leadership. Eventually you become the leader of those leaders, shaping not just projects but entire functions. How can anyone argue that experience does not matter?

Design is too often reduced to pushing pixels or making things look good. That is an oversimplification. The majority of design work is problem-solving. Tools like Canva or AI can create outputs, but they cannot think. Creativity comes from framing the problem, guiding the process, and bringing an idea to life. A leader is not less creative by being less hands-on. In many cases they are more creative, because they extend thinking beyond execution and channel it into outcomes.

Think of it as a conductor. A conductor may not play every instrument in the performance, but they understand them all. They know each note in the score and bring together the orchestra to create something greater than the sum of its parts. Leadership in design works the same way. You may not be pushing pixels every day, but you know the craft, you know the detail, and you create the conditions for others to produce their best work.

This is why there is a fundamental difference between a senior designer and a design leader. A senior designer delivers excellent output. A leader builds the environment where dozens of people can deliver excellent output at scale. One is craft at the surface. The other is practice in its widest sense. Both are valuable, but they are not the same.

Yes, there are fewer opportunities at the top. That scarcity is exactly why networks and discernment matter. Placing leaders is not about uploading job descriptions. It is about knowing the industry, building trust, and understanding what it takes to succeed in complex, high-stakes roles. If you are serious about leadership hiring, you should be able to distinguish between finding a skilled designer and hiring a leader to build and run a design function. They are two entirely different things.

Bias only makes this harder. Being told you are too experienced, too old, or too expensive without genuine evaluation is as offensive as being told you are the wrong gender or race. It is unlawful, it is short-sighted, and it undervalues what experience really brings. The organisations that succeed are the ones that recognise wisdom, foresight, and proven ability as strengths. Experience builds confidence, not just for the leader but for the entire business.

If you want to build something meaningful, hire a leader who creates the conditions for great work, not just the person who contributed to one piece of it. Leadership is not theory and it is not simply a line on a CV. It is earned through years of guiding, teaching, hiring, and representing the function at the highest level.

The foundation of leadership is not education. It is not awards. It is not titles. It is experience.

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.

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.

The Value of Design Direction

When people talk about design leadership, they often focus on the big picture. Scaling teams, setting up systems, and representing design at the executive table. Those things matter, but there is a function that rarely gets the attention it deserves. Design Direction.

Design Direction is the equivalent of art direction or creative direction in traditional agencies. It is how leadership gets a project to not only meet the vision but also stay aligned and push the design as far as possible. Without it, even the strongest design teams can lose their way, and even the most talented designers can end up delivering work that meets the brief but lacks the depth and clarity that comes from experienced guidance.

I have seen first-hand how often Design Direction is misunderstood. I have been asked to log my hours like an individual contributor, as if the only measurable design output is pixels pushed. I have been in conflict with project managers and product owners who reduce Design Direction to a standing review once a week. They see it as an overhead rather than an integral part of the process. This way of thinking overlooks what Design Direction really is. The ongoing alignment, questioning, and refinement that ensures design delivers at the highest possible level.

Design Direction is not just sitting in on reviews. It is defining the product and design strategy, setting the creative vision, understanding the goals and deliverables, and making sure that the team has the clarity and confidence to execute. It is knowing when to push a concept further, when to simplify, and when to hold the line on detail. It is asking the tough questions that less experienced designers may not think to ask. And it is being available as a sounding board, not only for design craft but for the confidence and judgement that comes with experience.

In practical terms, Design Direction should be seen as a core part of any project plan. Around 20 percent of design time is a reasonable baseline, and often more is required at the beginning of a project to define goals with founders and stakeholders. This investment pays for itself many times over because it prevents wasted effort, reduces misalignment, and raises the quality of the final product. Design Direction is not a task you tick off. It is an ongoing practice that shapes how design unfolds across the life of a project.

On a day to day level, Design Direction shows up in countless ways. It is a conversation that helps a designer see a better path forward. It is feedback that brings alignment between product, engineering, and design. It is guidance that takes a project from done to delivered with impact. Most importantly, it creates the conditions for designers to do their best work.

When Design Direction is missing, teams are left to operate in isolation. Designers second guess themselves, products drift from their intended vision, and the end result suffers. When it is present, alignment is tighter, designers are more confident, and the quality of output rises.

Design Direction is not a luxury. It is not an add on or an afterthought. It is a fundamental part of design leadership, and it should be factored into every project plan as deliberately as design, product, or engineering. The difference it makes is not only in the work produced, but in the confidence, clarity, and capability of the team delivering it.

The next time you are putting together a project plan, make sure Design Direction has a line of its own. Be generous with it. Your design team will thrive, and your product will benefit in ways you can measure and in ways you cannot.

Startups, You Don’t Need a CDO Yet

I was recently approached to take on a Chief Design Officer role for a startup. Pre-anything. Equity stake, interesting project, no compensation until the first round of funding. All reasonable asks given the requirements were minimal.

I will not get into the specifics of why I did not jump at the opportunity, but I will say this: they do not need a CDO.

Most early stage startups do not. Not even scale-ups until there is a larger set of resources in place who truly need that level of leadership. Sure, you can bring one in fractionally, but the work founders think a CDO should be doing is rarely the work of a CDO.

Yes, we carry years of wisdom, but you also need someone on the tools. Most CDOs are more than capable, but why disrespect them by asking them to do the job of a mid-level designer? That is not the work of a CDO. I have yet to meet a seasoned CTO who is expected to sit and code full time.

This is a role that is simply not required at the early stage. When you are bootstrapping, making promises you cannot guarantee, bringing in a CDO is not the solution.

The better opportunity is for a senior designer. Someone 5–10 years into their career. Someone who is comfortable wearing multiple hats, who can handle the hands-on work to ship an MVP and secure funding. Get a CTO and a CDO to advise if you like, but do not rope them in with a title and then expect them to do work they have not done in a decade.

I hear a lot about ICs, but even most of them are overly qualified unless this is just a side project they are passionate about. They deserve more respect than being used as a stop-gap. The role of a CDO is to lead the function, not just push the pixels.

That is not arrogance. I still jump in Figma. I still design every day. But my role has a better use of time. My value is in setting vision, representing the function, and scaling design so that it has the impact it should.

When you hire a CDO you get years of experience in navigating complexity, shaping organisations, building systems, and ensuring design serves the business at scale. You also get recognition given to the team, responsibility taken for the outcome, and a leader who knows the details without having to do every detail themselves.

I worked hard to reach this level, as have many others. It is not about being above the work, it is about applying hard-earned experience for the right impact.

A Chief Design Officer is not what an early stage startup needs. At that point, you need hands-on design, not design leadership. Bring in someone who can wear many hats, move fast, and get you to an MVP. Save the CDO role for when you are ready to scale design into a function that drives the business forward.

Respect the role. Respect the people. Put them where they can create the most value.

In Good Company

There are a few companies I wouldn’t mind working for. Some because they’re innovative, some out of curiosity, and others because I use them regularly and know I could help make them better. I admire the craft, the clarity, and the culture some have built. They’re real places where I believe I could add real value. My career has taught me that the best opportunities often come from unexpected places. Every role sharpens your instincts, strengthens your systems thinking and makes you a better designer.

Lego

Anyone who knows me knows I build Lego. I don’t want to be a set designer or a master builder, that’s my hobby. What I’d love to do is help elevate their digital experience. From the website to in-store journeys, there’s room to build more cohesion and consistency. With the right structure and creative leadership, their experience could feel as satisfying and smart as the product itself.

Grab

When I lived in Thailand, Grab became my go-to for everything. Rides, food, groceries, cleaning, you name it. It’s probably the most-used app I’ve ever had. The core product is powerful, but the experience can feel disjointed. I’d focus on bringing unity across services, sharpening the flow, and simplifying support. It’s a product I respect and use, and one I know I could make even better.

Amazon

Most of my experiences with Amazon have been difficult. I still can’t access my account, and the interface is hard to navigate. I use it often in design audits as an example of how inconsistency adds up over time. That’s exactly why I’d love to work there. I’d bring leadership, structure and clarity to a platform that millions rely on. This one is all about the challenge.

Apple

I use the ecosystem every day and it works the way I work. It supports, syncs and connects without friction. I also admire their willingness to take risks and stay the course. Their design team is one of the few that still moves with purpose. I’d love to be part of that environment and contribute to the next wave of experiences inside a system that values both restraint and innovation.

Porsche

I’ve grown to really appreciate Porsche. Not just for the product, but the precision of the brand. From language to visuals to touchpoints, everything feels thought through. That kind of consistency doesn’t happen by accident. I’d be proud to help maintain and extend that strength across digital products and future-facing platforms.

Red Bull

I don’t drink energy drinks, but I love what Red Bull has built. The strategy, the brand worlds, the culture around it, it’s an incredible ecosystem. The content, placement and community are on a different level. I’d love to build experiences that bring those stories to life digitally, with the same energy and originality they bring to everything else.

Liquid Death

It’s just water, but the way they’ve branded and built around it is clever. The tone, the packaging and the attitude all cut through. It’s not my typical style, but I respect how clear and bold they are. I’d like to help them grow without losing that edge.

Revolut, Wise, Monzo

These fintech platforms are part of my daily life. I use Wise the most, Monzo is polished and easy to use, but Revolut stands out in terms of potential. Their growth is impressive and their features are genuinely useful, but the experience could be sharper. I’d bring clarity, consistency and structure to help any of them move faster and more confidently. It’s a space I know well, and where I could contribute from day one.

Teenage Engineering

Their products make you feel something. The aesthetic is strong, the thinking is clear, and the connection between form and function is rare. They remind me of what Dieter Rams might be building today. I’d love to contribute to shaping the next digital layer of their ecosystem. Products like these deserve experiences that feel as considered as the design itself.

Formula 1

I’ve always liked the racing, but it’s the data, overlays and live interaction that I find fascinating. The way they present complex information clearly, and bring it into the broadcast experience, is world class. As F1 evolves into more than a sport, I see massive opportunity to contribute to the lifestyle, media and technology experiences around it.

A24

Everything they release feels crafted. The films are distinctive, bold and filled with creative details. I’d love to build immersive digital experiences around their sci-fi and genre pieces. Interfaces that fit the world, not just the film. There’s huge opportunity to create something original and meaningful in this space.

LV

Luxury is expanding its audience. Brands like Louis Vuitton are showing up in culture, sport and tech, not just fashion. The physical side is refined, but the digital side still has room to grow. I’d love to help elevate that. Something that feels like Moleskins Timepage, useful, elegant, clear. That level of product design is where I’d add value.

Tesla and SpaceX

I’d work on any of Elon’s companies, including X. The challenges are clear and I have ideas. I’ve already prototyped voice interfaces for Tesla, and know someone working on the rocket UI for SpaceX. These are spaces where traditional interface thinking doesn’t apply. That excites me. I’d give everything to help shape these experiences, because they’re not about browsers or phones, they’re about future interaction.

Gymshark

I train every day, and I respect how Gymshark built their brand from the ground up. I don’t wear their gear, but I know their story, and I admire their approach. The connection with athletes like CBUM is strong, and their community is massive. I’d love to help shape the digital tools and platforms that connect it all.

Dyson

Whether people love or challenge their products, I admire how design-led the company is. Dyson solves real-world problems across hardware, health and home, and does it with ambition. I’d move to Singapore if I had to, but the UK base also appeals to me. I’d bring creative leadership, system thinking and experience design to a company that experiments with purpose.

There are a few agencies I’d be happy to work with too, but that’s a conversation for another time. I’m not trying to build my own thing. I want to lead a creative team inside a company. That’s where I do my best work.

Which company would you want to work for?

Considering Fractional Leadership

Over the past few years, the market has shifted in ways that have forced many of us in executive creative roles to rethink how we work. The budgets that once supported full-time Chief Creative Officers or Chief Design Officers are harder to justify, especially for smaller or scaling businesses. This reality has prompted me to explore new ways to apply my experience and leadership without requiring a full-time executive headcount.

One option I have been considering is stepping into a fractional leadership role. In this arrangement, I would serve as the CCO or CDO of a business that needs senior guidance but is not in a place to bring on an executive permanently. The idea is simple: dedicate a predictable amount of time each month to the company and its teams, delivering strategic direction, supporting execution, and coaching internal talent. For example, this might look like two hours every day, which could cover team catch-ups, creative reviews, leadership discussions, workshops, or client meetings.

While that sounds like a lot of meetings, if time is structured thoughtfully, it becomes surprisingly manageable. The time allocation does not have to be a strict daily schedule. Some days could require only an hour, while others might need three. Some weeks could be lighter. The important thing is that there is a clear monthly commitment that everyone respects. As the business grows and the value of the role becomes more apparent, the hours can scale accordingly.

This is not an ideal substitute for a fully embedded executive. Building genuine relationships and understanding the nuances of a company’s culture and processes takes time that is hard to compress. However, when both sides are committed and communicate openly, it is possible to create an arrangement that delivers real impact.

To be effective as a fractional leader, you need to manage multiple clients at once, which requires discipline, transparency, and mature boundaries. It is essential to have regular check-ins with company leadership to confirm that expectations are met, to highlight any gaps you see, and to request additional time when deeper consideration is needed. Without that trust and clarity, the model will struggle to deliver value.

Despite the challenges, I believe fractional leadership holds promise. For companies under pressure to reduce fixed costs while still needing strategic creative guidance, it can be a practical solution. It can also be a more flexible way for experienced leaders to share their expertise across multiple organisations that otherwise might never have access to that level of support.

If you run a business or lead a team, I would be interested to hear whether this approach resonates with you. Could a fractional CCO or CDO help your company grow without the full cost of a permanent executive? Feel free to share your thoughts. This is an evolving idea, and the conversation is worth having.

The True Weight of Creative Leadership

Today, I read something from a creative outlier I deeply respect, who essentially stated, ‘In the age of AI, you’re all creative directors now,’ reducing the role to merely telling others what to do without doing the actual work. It hit a nerve. That has never been my experience, not by choice, anyway.

Delegation isn’t about avoiding work. It’s about maximising your impact by entrusting your team with responsibilities and not undermining them by doing their tasks when things go off track. It’s trusting them, nudging them, and ultimately becoming a ‘genius maker.’

But leadership is far more than delegation. It comes with great power, and as the Spider-Man comics remind us, ‘With great power, there must also come great responsibility,’ a phrase coined by Stan Lee. As I reflected on my journey, it became clear to me how much more there is to leadership.

You Own the Vision
You set the course for your team and projects. You must constantly ensure everyone stays aligned, reimagining that vision again and again as landscapes shift and challenges emerge. It’s not a one-time thing you delegate to someone else. It’s an ongoing responsibility that sits squarely on your shoulders.

You’re Responsible for Careers
The work your team produces shapes their professional identity. Poor quality leaves them with little to showcase and excellence sets them on an upward trajectory. When they move on, the standards you set become benchmarks for their future roles, influencing their careers long after they have left your team.

Personally, I have always kept my door open to former team members, helping them navigate their careers long after we have parted ways. This isn’t charity. It’s understanding that your leadership decisions have lasting impact on real people’s lives.

You Handle Fair Compensation
I strongly dislike negotiating salaries downward. I prefer paying people more than they expect, understanding the extraordinary commitment creativity demands. Creative professionals do not simply switch off when they go home so ensuring money isn’t a worry is crucial.

When your team is stressed about rent or whether they can afford decent equipment, they’re not bringing their best creative energy to the work. Your job is to remove that barrier.

You Fight for Investment
It’s not enough to pay salaries. You must convince the business to invest significantly in your team. This means securing funding for the latest technology, continuous education, and meaningful team-building experiences.

I have observed departments abundant with resources and seen resentment build in teams whose leaders haven’t successfully made the business case for investment. Your team notices when you’re not fighting for them, and they notice when you are.

You Deliver Consistently
Leaders must deliver projects on time, within budget, and meet quality expectations. You anticipate scope, resources, and stakeholder expectations long before the project kicks off. It’s educated guesswork backed by experience, planning, and intuition.

This is where the real work happens. Not in the creative execution, but in the orchestration of everything that makes great creative work possible.

You Own the Failures
When things go wrong, the responsibility falls squarely on your shoulders, even at the cost of your own reputation. Conversely, when your team succeeds, you highlight their achievements, ensuring they receive the deserved recognition.

This is perhaps the hardest part of leadership. Taking the heat when projects fail while stepping back when they succeed. It goes against every instinct, but it’s what separates real leaders from people who just like having authority.

The Reality Check
Leadership, in reality, is not glamorous. It is weighty, often invisible, and always demanding. If you deeply love the craft, stay close to it for as long as possible. Transition into leadership not because of status or the desire to delegate, but because you are ready and somewhat comfortable with the immense responsibility it entails.

Remember, leadership is caring for your team’s growth, not just handing out tasks. The moment you start thinking of it as just delegation is the moment you’ve missed the point entirely.