The Proper Care and Feeding of Creatives (Part 1): Capitalism Made Us Do It

How can CEOs get the most out of the creative executives they hire and their teams? What’s the proper care and feeding of creative professionals that will unlock the very best of them and the very best outcomes for your organization? While some of the answers will depend upon the individuals involved, the organizational culture, and the industry, there are a few patterns I’ve observed which inform my perspective having spent the past twenty plus years leading creative teams within organizations and partnering with executives as a consultant, coach, and advisor.

Let’s start by acknowledging that leadership is hard and lonely. I deeply empathize with executive leaders, especially ones at the tippity top of the organization— in the CEO seat. You’re under unrelenting pressure. It’s important to start by naming that both CEOs and their creative teams feel misunderstood a lot. Some of you top executives are cloaked creatives yourselves who likely put aside part of yourself in service of mission. When a bright-eyed creative leader shows up and starts pushing you to remember, to imagine, to create in a way that you’ve forced yourself to forget, you may start to feel a hot mixture of surprise and indignation that they dare to openly break all the rules that you have internalized and religiously followed— the rules about what is professional, measurable, strategic, allowable.

Creative professionals often feel misunderstood— and rightfully so. Most creatives have had an urge to make things that make the around them world more beautiful, more connected, more human for as long as they can remember. It’s my personal view that all kids are born naturally curious and creative, and that we would all stay that way if society didn’t rewire and redirect us. If someone happens to survive into adulthood and are still clinging to their creative instincts, they face an uphill battle. Creatives are storytellers who make new worlds for others to inhabit that they didn’t know needed or longed for until we introduced them. We build windows for others to see parts of themselves that were hidden and to doors to discover who they might be under different circumstances. Companies and organizations know the power of narrative. They hire us to get to the hearts and minds of people who will then respond by doing whatever we ask because we made them feel things. 

The creative professionals working today in fields like marketing, communications, design and events management were once the band and theater kids, the artsy kids, the doodlers. We were the ones who liked to sing, dance, draw, perform, write, and imagine worlds only we could see. Our first love was making stuff from our own imaginations and making the world around us more beautiful. Along the way, though, school taught us that we would need to get a job someday. Society showed us that our choice in career would determine our long-term comfort. We learned that making stuff simply for the sake of beauty in adulthood is a luxury afforded to the wealthy and the select group of people they sponsor. Grown-ups who live in the real world must all wake up to reality. In most cases the best we do is land a job in a creative-ish field. The deal is that we can make stuff, but only if it’s stuff we can sell to other people to make money. Capitalism is why we’re working, not just for you, but for anyone at all.

When you see us busy at work on the next marketing campaign, newsletter, or video project, please remember that we didn’t start off dreaming how to use our creativity for the purpose of raising or making more money. We found our way to our jobs out of necessity. What’s binding creative professionals and their bosses is a mutual necessity of aims— our organizations need us to do more good and make more money and we need to make things that make the world better and more beautiful while also making enough money to live. Our plight is that while we must always remember the deal we made— to make things that make money— we are often made to feel entirely invisible for who we are apart from the monetized productive value of our effort.

I’ve spoken to countless communications leaders who have felt the need to shrink, to discount the intrinsic value of their natural and innate gifts. Who we are isn’t what’s valued, only what we can do. We like getting our direct deposits and we enjoy the moments when we make a thing of beauty that undeniably advances the greater good while also being good for the bottom line. However, the transactional nature of this arrangement often causes our creative light to dim over time. While that’s not your problem to fix, it is the CEO’s responsibility to understand what’s at work. Doing so can help leaders better design team structures, incentives, and conditions that foster effective collaboration.

Now that we understand what’s motivating your creative team and some of the tensions. Let’s talk about how to work better together.

Part 2 is of this series is all about building trust.