For years, the drumbeat’s been steady: “Pick a lane. Specialize. Niche down.” But I’m here to tell you — loudly, clearly, and unapologetically — that I’m a creative generalist. And that’s not a compromise. It’s my advantage.

Why do clients hire creative thinkers?

It’s not because they want the same thing their competitors already have. It’s because they’re stuck. They’re staring at a blank wall and need someone who can see through it (or at least around the corner). That’s what generalists do. We bring perspective. We uncover what others can’t see, don’t know, or haven’t yet considered. We connect dots that were never on the same page to begin with. Sometimes you’ve gotta fold the page first. That’s not cheating; it’s reinventing the rules.

The Swiss Army Knife gets a bad rap.

You know how the argument goes: if you’re good at everything, you’re great at nothing. But being a generalist isn’t about trying to do everything — it’s about knowing which tool to pull out when. When to lead and when to collaborate. It’s about context. You don’t eat with a corkscrew, but it’s damn useful when the moment’s right. I’ve spent three decades getting really good at a handful of interconnected skills: strategy, design, storytelling, and creative direction, not to mention extracurriculars like podcasting and fine art. Each discipline sharpens the others. None are wasted.

Inspiration needs a bigger plate.

The buffet analogy fits: being a generalist means I’ve sampled a lot, and no, I didn’t go back for thirds on everything. Some genius had to look at fried chicken and waffles and think, That would be amazing. I know when to revisit a classic and when to combine (and recombine) the familiar with the new. That range gives me license to push. To remix. To tell more interesting stories with unexpected ingredients.

And in an industry rocked by budget cuts, shorter timelines, and AI disruption, versatility isn’t a luxury — it’s a survival trait. As Tom May recently wrote, “Being good at lots of things is no longer a compromise; it’s a competitive advantage.”

What have I learned from all this?

1. If you niche down too far, AI will eat your lunch.

You become the “one trick pony” that gets automated. Generalists, on the other hand, adapt. They pivot. They bring human judgment, taste, curation and curiosity to complex problems AI can’t fully grasp.

2. Lateral problem solving is a lost art.

Specialists go deep, sure — but can go too deep. They lose peripheral vision. They trade curiosity for routine. Generalists zoom out. We cross-pollinate. We bring fresh thinking to stale problems because we aren’t tethered to a single “best practice” but rather a suite of them.

3. Don’t be boring.

Design and marketing are about connection. They’re storytelling mediums. And great stories don’t come from templates. They come from breadth — of insight, of experience, of voice. If your work feels like wash, rinse, repeat, maybe it’s time to rethink your approach.

A lot of the people in history we consider to be geniuses were generalists. Leonardo da Vinci? Generalist. Ben Franklin? Generalist. Ada Lovelace? You guessed it. And the list goes on…

I was on an advisory call for the art school of a local university here in North Carolina. Another advisor and alum of the school used a phrase I fell in love with as soon as I heard it: inter-focus versatility. (I told him he’d get credit whenever I used it.)

Being a generalist isn’t the easy road — it’s just the one that makes the most sense for how I think, how I work, and how I help clients succeed.

I’ll leave you with this: In a world where AI is fast becoming the executor, human generalists are the orchestrators. We don’t just push buttons. We decide why to push them, which ones to push, what to do when the expected outcome doesn’t show up and when to build upon the expected when it does.

So no, I’m not going to apologize for being a creative generalist. I’m going to keep doing what I do best: see further, think broader, and make connections that move people and businesses forward.

What do you think?