Studio Dive: Where Culture Is Allowed to Move like a Cat at 3AM

James> I think the line between pure creativity and commercial creativity is less of a line and more of a shifting blur. At the core, both forms of creativity need to connect with an audience, whether it’s an emotional reaction to an artwork or inspiring someone to think differently about a brand. 

What sets them apart is intention. With commercial creativity, there’s always an objective — to tell a brand story, to solve a problem, to build engagement. Pure art, on the other hand, is often about expression for its own sake, free from those constraints. But the two can absolutely coexist, and when they do, that’s where something really special takes place.

Some of the best commercial work comes from leaning into that artistic side, and some of the most resonant art borrows from the storytelling techniques of advertising. It's not about putting up walls between them — it's about knowing when they overlap and using that as firepower.

James> There’s a divergent mindset at Studio Dive that’s hard to miss. Who we work with, and the work that results, rarely has a commonality. There’s this beautiful disloyalty to any specific typology. Our only guiding star is resonance through creativity, and everything — absolutely everything —shapes to this aim. 

One week we might be working on a commercial activation, the next an art installation, an interactive experience, or even an entire festival. We collaborate on both sides of the fence, working with cultural institutions as well as commercial brands and their agencies. If it has an audience, you’ve got our attention.

James> Culture moves like a cat at 3am — darting everywhere. You’ve got to be quick on your feet. So to truly engage, the studio must be adaptable and responsive. For us, staying compact means we can be hands-on, moving with the same agility as said cat. In a way, the studio is a formalisation of how I have always worked - remaining unencumbered to allow the necessary flexibility and intimacy with each project and give clients direct exposure to the creative process.

The studio favours a brains-over-bodies approach. Instead of having a large team, we keep a tight creative core. Around that, we build expert practitioners around each project — as no two projects tend to be the same. It keeps things best-practice and allows us to stay nimble and across any discipline. Plus, being represented by Scoundrel Projects gives us serious production firepower when it comes to bringing those ideas to life. 

It’s the best of both worlds: we stay small and flexible, but we’ve got the muscle when we need it to make the impossible happen.

James> Actually, the first decade of my career was as an art director in advertising, and I loved it — it was a great foundation. But I always had this underlying desire to stay as close to the creative coal face as possible, to keep my hands dirty. That’s what drew me towards directing, and then public art. Then along came experiential (though back then, it didn’t have a name). Suddenly, there was this need for creatives who not only had a physical, hands-on approach but also the vision and production nuance of a film director. I quickly found myself in that world, and it just clicked for me. It felt the perfect intersection of creativity and tangible execution.

James> Tough to choose, but one project that stands out for me is the giant Minor Figures oat milk carton we created on King Street, Newtown. What started as a challenge to stretch an outdoor advertising budget turned into something much bigger — literally. We built a towering carton with a spiral staircase inside, where people could climb through, pop out the spout, and order a coffee from a café in a bedroom on the first floor of a building. On paper, the idea seemed absurd, almost nonsensical, but that’s exactly why it worked.

There’s a certain power in whimsy. In a world where everything is carefully planned and calculated, doing something purely for its unexpected charm can be incredibly impactful. The Minor Figures carton resonated with people both in person and on social — not because it was clever, but because it was ridiculous. The lesson for me is that sometimes the hardest ideas to rationalise are the ones that cut through the noise. Whimsy, when used thoughtfully, can often connect with an audience in ways that more thoroughbred ideas can’t.

James> When I say the studio thrives on the audacity culture demands, it’s because ambitious ideas naturally capture attention. Culture rewards audacity, we are drawn to things that seem difficult or almost impossible to achieve. 

But that just doesn’t mean just making big things; it’s not about that, it’s about effort. When you go to great lengths for an idea, it shows heart. It’s like a handmade birthday card, it means you care. In experiential work, when a brand puts in that kind of effort, audiences notice. It’s not just about making a statement, it’s about showing real intent and commitment.

James> My advice, for what it is worth, would be to use your creativity as a passport to get into as many different rooms as you can. Over the years, I’ve found myself in rooms with architects, town planners, government ministers, curators, artists, engineers, even billionaires. In every one of these rooms I’ve gained new perspectives. Things I wouldn’t have discovered by staying in my own lane. The broader your creative horizons, the richer and more nuanced your creative worldview becomes.