Introducing Komuna

A new agency for the next normal

My first day at the big, global ad agency, I had to stop and take a deep breath before walking through the front doors. I had moved to New York to pursue theater and this fancy-pants advertising job was just a way to finance what I really wanted to do. As I stood in the gilded lobby in my knock off heels and what I thought might be considered biz casual, I felt a mixture of disdain, excitement, and a healthy dose of imposter syndrome. All I had to do was stick it out for a little while.

I didn’t stay for “a little while.” I stayed for seven years. What started as a temporary, boring gig turned into an opportunity to work with whip smart creative thinkers on massive global brands. I got to travel, launch campaigns, and learn hands-on what it takes to run a business. And I could finally afford the wardrobe of my dreams and dinner at that Michelin-starred restaurant everyone was raving about. I had arrived.

And I was kind of miserable.

Like so many others, I had no intention of working for “the man.” I wanted to make beautiful things. I wanted to tell amazing stories. I wanted to change the world.

But that’s damn hard to do when you are answering to the bottom line of a major holding company.

Disciplines were siloed. Transparency was a buzzword word only found on a powerpoint slide in some capes deck. And good storytelling, the thing that I loved most, was diluted into a tactical line item that barely checked the box. No matter how hard I tried to believe in the system, the traditional agency model just didn’t have room for the things that I held true.

So I left. But no matter where I went it all felt vaguely, heartbreakingly similar. More often than not, worse. Sexism, ageism, and racism — all the bad isms, really — were systemic. The small shops would fight over scraps. The big shops would fight over just about everything.

I knew that there had to be a way to do things differently.

So I did what any person would do while having an existential crisis in their thirties. I opened a business with someone I had known for just a month: Josh, a visual artist turned design guru turned tech whiz. Here was someone who was as committed to the work as I was, who held the same values, and who was also just crazy enough to start a company with a near-complete stranger.

That was 9 years ago. February 14th, 2012.

Yes, Valentine’s day. And no, that wasn’t on purpose. That’s just when the paperwork happened to get filed by New York State.

Faculty was our answer to putting the focus back on the work, not the institution. And now, looking back on all we’ve done, from expansive corporate headquarters to intimate, interactive live shows, I feel it’s fitting that our work-iversary falls on a day that celebrates love. Because that’s what we bring to every job: heart. Not in the lame, Hallmark-y, cupid way. But in a way that goes back to our art world beginnings, to our hope that we might be able to help change the world.

Nine years of ups and downs. Of big jobs and little mistakes. Of weddings and funerals. Of babies being born and cross country moves. Of incredible clients and even more incredible employees. Nine years of going at it on our own and somehow, to our great chagrin, making it work.

And then 2020. And all the problems I’d recognized before starting Faculty had only gotten worse.

I watched countless collaborators close up shop. I witnessed the big agencies turn injustices into hashtags while never really taking any action. I stood by as friends lost jobs, clients lost colleagues, and the whole world lost heart. And although we were luckier than most, we could have been doing better… financially, morally, creatively.

2020 showed me that it wasn’t enough to do things differently if we were still doing it alone. I looked to my team, to our trusted partners who were doing their best to survive, and our overwhelmed clients who looked to us for answers.

I wasn’t alone in this fight. We are all in this together and we better start acting like it.

And so I thought to myself: it’s time for another change.

Time for a new kind of agency that doesn’t bankroll untapped departments for every project. A holistic agency that delivers real-world strategies and long-needed innovation. A borderless agency that sources the best talent and because of it, the most diverse voices. A cooperative agency where members don’t compete for work, but share the load. A community of artists, designers, and thought leaders who make good work because we are good people.

And if you know anything about me, you know that I’m not one to sit back once I get an idea like that.

I’m so excited (and oh-so-nervous) to introduce Komuna, a women and minority owned co-op agency.

Our members are made up of a global network of women, BIPOC, and LGBTQ+ indie agencies that bring a comprehensive suite of services. We’re united by a rockstar leadership team and the conviction that when one of us wins, we all win. True to the co-op model, we all own a part of Komuna. Faculty is now just a part of a constellation of independent agencies determined to create real change through our work and our actions. We’re not just here to win contracts. We’re committed to fostering diversity. We’re committed to transparency. We’re committed to giving back. And we’re committed to telling damn good stories.

After the year we’ve had, I’m so excited and so very grateful. Because now, it’s not just my amazing team and wonderful clients who have my back, but a host of equally crazy, optimistic, and diverse partners.

I hope you, like me, know that it’s time for something different. I hope you’ll watch what we do next. And I hope you’ll join us.

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Are you an indie agency with diverse leadership? Click here to throw your name in our membership hat.

Are you a brand that wants a different kind of agency partner? Grab 30 mins on my cal and I’ll take you through why we might just be exactly what you’ve been looking for.