The Return of the Rockstar: BBH London's ECD on Recklessness in Creativity

Felipe Serradourada Guimaraes embodies creativity. Not only through his role as a creative leader, but as he sits in BBH London’s office, he also looks the part. His simple white t-shirt shows the canvas of tattoos down his arms, contrasting against his collection of gold necklaces and shining rings adorning nearly every finger. 

The start of the year marked Guimaraes being promoted from deputy executive creative director to executive creative director (ECD) after the departure of Helen Rhodes, but, for him, being a leader is nothing new. 

Drawn by causing disruption, the art of not "giving a fuck”, and a positive, collaborative mindset, it only takes looking at BBH’s latest run of work to see that Guimaraes is already getting the ball-rolling with this new creative era. ‘Bundles of Joy’ for Burger King and its popular ‘ICONS’ out-of-home work for Tesco both provide examples of bringing beauty back to advertising - something he thinks is king. 

“Advertising had this energy to it - it looked fun, exciting. There was a rockstar appeal to it. I’d love for us to get back to giving off that energy again,” he explains.

Guimaraes opens up on his journey with BBH as an agency, what it takes to be a good creative leader, and his love for the world of fashion. 

Creative Salon: What does creativity mean to you?

Felipe Serradourada Guimaraes: Quite a lot, to be honest. Mainly, it's a safe space for people to do what they want to do. I think often you're boxed in - at work, in life - and creativity feels like a space where people can express themselves. I know "self-expression" sounds like a bit of a buzzword, but it really is about being able to share your views, your values, what you're into, who you are.

CS: What would you say influenced you to become a creative person?

FG: A lot of it comes from sport. I was meant to be a professional tennis player so a lot of how I approach work comes from that sporting mentality. It’s funny but when you go into sport seriously you go in with the belief that you could be one of the greats. There’s a kind of naivety in that. No one ever goes into it thinking, "I’ll be average and that’s fine". That sense of ambition, even if it’s a bit delusional, has carried over into how I approach creative work. Maybe this could be the greatest ad ever made. It hasn’t happened yet, but that mindset’s a big part of it.

I used to live in Colombia and I think my parents just wanted me to find something to do, so I ended up playing tennis. I got obsessed - properly obsessed. If it rained I'd move all the furniture in my bedroom to play indoors. Then I failed at tennis, started skating, and thought, "Maybe I’ll be a skater for a living". That whole subculture got me into fashion, which led me into design, and eventually into advertising.

CS: What was it that really helped you translate that passion from sport into creativity?

FG: It was more of a mentality than anything else. With sport, perseverance and failure are just part of it. You grow up learning that one try won’t be enough - you have to keep going. And when you get into the creative industry, it’s the same. One idea won’t stick and you’ve got to go again and again. You have to find joy in iteration, in things not working.

Sport teaches you that most of the time, you’re getting it wrong. Then, you get it right once and think, "that feeling" - this is why I do it. Skating was like that. It’s an impossible sport. You mess up more than you land anything. But when you do land it, it's magic. That feeling is so close to putting out a piece of work. You try, you fail, projects die, but then something lands and you’re chasing that high again and again. Hopefully, you make some good stuff along the way.

CS: Would you say your childhood was a creative one?

FG: Not really - and I think that’s probably why I leaned into it so much. I’m definitely the black sheep of the family. My dad’s an agricultural engineer, my mum’s a lawyer, my brother’s a doctor, my grandad was a university professor. I was none of the above. I was always the one challenging things in my own little way, so I thought maybe I’ll just do something completely different.

That’s when I got into skating, started getting tattoos - all of it was maybe a rebellion. Against my parents, sure, but also a rebellion against the life that was expected of me.

CS: You started your career through a placement scheme at BBH - tell us a about that.

FG: I didn’t actually know I wanted to go into advertising at first. At the time, I didn’t even know what the route in was. I remember watching ‘What Women Want’ with Mel Gibson - he was doing a campaign for Nike and I thought, "That looks interesting". I had no idea what that even meant.

I went to university in Australia, but I failed and ended up quitting. Moved back and reconnected with someone I used to skate with who was a designer. He taught me how to design, and I thought I could actually do something with it.

I started looking for courses and found Falmouth in Cornwall. That’s where I got educated in all things advertising. Then I moved to London with my creative partner at the time. We didn’t know where to start, so we went to NABS. They gave us this massive book with every agency listed and told us, "Start at A and work your way through." Luckily, we stopped at B and landed a placement at BBH. 

We were super lucky. I remember the day we got hired: we were two months into the placement and presenting ideas for a FIFA pitch. It was in this huge boardroom - 25 people, ECDs, CEOs, the works. We were terrified. But we pitched this one idea, and the whole room just looked at us. We'd put something on the table that felt completely different. Off the back of that, they said, "Maybe we should keep you guys", and that was it - we got hired. Since then, it’s been a slow battle, but I’m still here. I love it.

CS: What’s the one thing you've always tried to bring into the creative industry?

FG: A bit of recklessness. Especially now, with so much research and process, I think there’s something valuable in being a little looser. The team here will tell you - I’m all guts, no brain. But there’s something in that. That 'fuck it, let’s see what happens' energy. A hustler attitude. No fear about whether the work will land - just go for it and hope it does.

The industry can feel like paint-by-numbers sometimes - research, testing, a bit of this, a bit of that. I wanted to bring something different. A bit more chaos. A bit more instinct.

CS: What work has given you a eureka moment of really hitting that mark? 

FG: I’m really proud of the last run we’ve had - Tesco, Burger King, Fizzoka. It feels like we finally got the keys to the place and things started coming out that reflected what we actually wanted to do.

I started out as an art director so my work comes from a very visual, design-led place. A lot of it is poster-based - very little is TV comedy sketches, that’s just not where I come from. So when the work starts to feel like that - like it's coming from that designy point of view, that’s when I know it’s working.

It feels like a bit of a moment. An "Oh shit, things are changing". Maybe I've helped push it in the right direction, who knows, but I think those three projects, especially, will leave a mark, at least within this building.

CS: Are there any pieces of work you weren’t involved in that made you think, ‘I wish I’d done that’?

FG: I love the work Hermeti and Ana [Balarin] have done at Wieden+Kennedy - I’ve always admired them. All the Heinz stuff in particular. It was funny, actually - when we did the bags campaign with Tesco, they’d just done the Heinz campaign, like a week before. Five letters, five letters.

Honestly, I was proud. It was the kind of work I’d love to have made. That whole campaign really hit for me, felt very in-line with the kind of stuff I gravitate toward.

CS: You’ve been in the industry a while now - what excites you about it today that maybe didn’t five years ago?

FG: I’ve always been naively positive about the industry. I’ve never looked at it with that doom-y mindset around stuff like AI. Honestly, I don’t really give a fuck. Great work will always find a way to happen. You can throw whatever new tool or trend into the mix: creativity always wins. Always.

Until someone proves me wrong and we go a whole year without anyone making anything good, I’m not worried. Great stuff is still coming through. We're lucky it's happening to us right now, but even beyond that, I’m hopeful. I haven’t seen anything that’s convinced me that great ideas are going anywhere.

CS: Do you think more needs to be done to raise the creative standard of the industry?

FG: Yes, definitely. One of the main reasons I wanted this role was to make sure that nothing leaves the building unless we’re proud of it. A couple of years ago, we let things go out that didn’t meet that bar and that’s the one thing I never want to happen again. I’m always happy to pull work off the table and go again.

Some of our best work with clients has come from being really clear: the moment we’re not proud, it’s not going out. I think as an industry, we all need to be a bit more rigid about quality control. It’s not that we’re not having good ideas, it’s that we’ve sometimes loosened the standards.

Great work is hard to make. And there was a time, especially around Covid and the recession, when the industry lost some of its confidence. You didn’t want to push too hard, didn’t want to upset clients. But now, at least here at BBH, our relationships feel strong enough to be honest. We’re constantly asking, ‘Are we going to be proud of this when it goes out?’ If the answer’s no, we’ll say so.

CS: What does good creative leadership look like to you?

FG: What’s made the transition to the role easier for me is that we’re still very flat as a team. I’m still on the floor with everyone, still going to shoots, still writing. When people see you’re in it with them, it makes a big difference.

I’ve had bosses who’d just say, "I don’t like it. Go again", and the work would be due the next morning. You’re stuck at your desk thinking, "What the fuck do I do now?". I never want to do that to someone. If something’s not working, I’ll jump in: let’s figure it out - "What about this idea?"

That sense of doing it together really matters to me. I’ve even blocked out three walkabout sessions in my calendar every week - just time to be on the floor, check-in, joke around, grab a coffee. I never want to be the boss who sits in a room and waits for stuff to be brought to me.

Sometimes I probably overdo it and people are like, "Can you just let me work?" But that’s just how I am - I like to be in it.

CS: On the flip side of that, what’s the biggest challenge of being a good creative leader?

FG: It’s a people industry. Just like in life, you naturally get on with some people more than others. And no matter how professional you are, that’s a challenge - especially for me.

I know I’m a personality. I’m out there, I’m present, I’m in people’s faces. And while that’s part of what makes me good at what I do, it doesn’t work for everyone. The biggest challenge has been learning how to lead different people in different ways while still being myself.

Some people need time. Some want clarity. Others want freedom. Everyone responds differently. So when you’re managing a team of 100-plus people, how do you avoid treating everyone the same while still keeping your leadership style intact? That balance is hard. That’s probably the biggest thing I’ve had to figure out.

CS: If advertising died tomorrow, what would you do with yourself?

FG: Fashion. Always. I basically work to buy clothes. Whether it’s starting my own label or working with one, that’s where I’d be.

I love clothes. I love aesthetics. I want everything around me to feel curated - clothes, food, work, all of it. And I think that spills into the way I approach creativity too. I know there’s this idea that agencies shouldn’t have a 'house style' but I don’t buy that. You should still have a vision. You should want the work to look and feel a certain way.

I’ve always been big on design and craft. Even with comedy - we had a team recently working on something funny, and I said, “Why does comedy have to look ugly?” You often see these hilarious scripts, but the cinematography feels like an afterthought. And I just don’t get that. I want beautiful, funny shit.

CS: Finally, what would you like to see change in the industry by the end of the decade? 

FG: I’d like us to have more fun.

I was chatting to someone recently about what it used to be like getting into the industry, and there was a time when film, music, and advertising were on the same pedestal. Advertising had this energy to it - it looked fun, exciting. There was a kind of rockstar appeal to it. You’d look at the people doing it and think, "They’re cool. I want in on that". Somewhere along the way, we got really serious. I don’t want that. I want people to remember how mad it is that this is what we do for a living. One day you’re writing about something wild, and the next day you’re out shooting it. That’s insane - and brilliant.

I’d love for us to get back to giving off that energy again. A bit more loose. A bit more reckless. A bit more ‘what if?’. That would be the perfect business.