In a bookstore in Asheville, North Carolina, I stumbled upon a coffee table book that pulled me deep into the kind of world I often find myself chasing in movies and art—Futuria: Art of the Sci-fi Age. It’s a curated collection of illustrated universes imagined by digital artists using tools like Photoshop, Procreate, and Blender. The book is structured around three “portals,” or visual genres: the neon-drenched chaos of Cyberpunk, the weathered desolation of the Post-apocalyptic, and a more clinical, utopian Artificial future. For me, the first two hit hardest.

In an age where attention is fleeting and audiences are increasingly immune to traditional advertising, the most effective brand stories are the ones that don’t feel like marketing at all. They feel like cinema. And not just any cinema—but the kind that stays with you, that dares to be gritty, intentional, and emotionally resonant. The kind of storytelling A24 has mastered.

In today’s saturated digital landscape, brands are constantly looking for ways to stay top of mind without overwhelming their audiences. One of the most enduring and strategic principles for managing content comes from Ogilvy & Mather: the idea of stock and flow. While it’s often attributed to the world of digital publishing, Ogilvy & Mather applied this concept masterfully to advertising content long before it became a buzzword in content marketing.

As they say, sometimes it just makes sense… even when it doesn’t. That, in a nutshell, is the magic of 'girl math.' If you’ve spent even a few minutes on TikTok or Instagram lately, you’ve likely stumbled across this playful phenomenon—where buying something on sale is technically saving money and returning an item feels like earning it back. On the surface, 'girl math' is lighthearted fun, but dig a little deeper, and you’ll find a fascinating intersection of psychology and consumer behavior.

Until now, people have been incredibly accurate when distinguishing AI-generated faces from human faces.  However, advances in artificial intelligence (AI) is making it possible to create synthetic human faces that are closer and closer to being true to life (photorealistic), so much so that it's incredibly hard to spot the difference.

In an age defined by instant gratification and endless choices, the story behind a product is quickly becoming as important as the product itself. More than ever, consumers are asking questions that go beyond price tags and brand names. How was it made? Who made it? What materials were used, and what impact does its creation have on the world around us?

In an era dominated by binge-watching and endless streaming options, one genre has quietly taken the spotlight: the documentary. Netflix has cracked the code for delivering compelling docu-series, almost pouring them out weekly to become a champion of the burgeoning medium.

Recently, I discovered it is because I have fallen victim to the concept of social proof – a psychological and social phenomenon. First elucidated by Robert Cialdini in 1984, it essentially suggests we humans copy the actions of those around us and conform to behaviors of others, especially when we think it is the most popular thing to do.

“The worst enemy of creativity is self-doubt," said Sylvia Plath, pen in hand prepared to write a poem. To which Van Gogh responded, poised with a paintbrush, "Indeed, and if you hear a voice within you say you cannot paint, then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced." But then Robert Hughs piped up, attempting to mediate between the two: "The greater the artist, the greater the doubt. Perfect confidence is granted to the less talented as a consolation prize." Can you imagine these three great creative minds engaged in a lively discussion, debating the role of self-doubt in the creative process?

In his iconic Two Cultures essay, C. P Snow sounded alarm over the growing chasm between “the arts” and “the sciences” in academia, insisting that we must find a way to connect these seemingly disparate fields.