Loading...
Loading...
Meet Tim McClure and discover the creative philosophy that guided five decades of legendary work — starting with Einstein's definition of creativity and the two elements Tim adds to make it complete.
Before we get into frameworks and philosophies, let's establish something important: Tim McClure didn't follow a playbook. He wrote one.
In 1971, five University of Texas graduates looked at each other and decided they didn't want to move to New York. They didn't want to climb someone else's ladder. They wanted to stay in Austin, build something from scratch, and do it on their own terms. That scrappy decision became GSD&M — one of the most celebrated advertising agencies in American history, responsible for campaigns like Don't Mess with Texas, Southwest Airlines' brand voice, the US Air Force's recruitment advertising, and the 100th anniversary of The Wall Street Journal.
Tim was the creative engine. The writer. The one who got "dealt the creative card," as he puts it. And over five decades, he developed a philosophy about creativity that's equal parts Einstein and Texas grit.
This lesson is about that philosophy — and why it matters to you, wherever you are in your creative career.
Tim's definition of creativity starts with a quote you've probably heard before:
"Creativity is intelligence having fun." — Albert Einstein
It's a beautiful line. Elegant. True. But Tim argues it's incomplete.
"I would only add a couple of elements to his formula," Tim says. "Passion and courage."
That's the full equation:
Creativity = Intelligence Having Fun + Passion + Courage
Let's break down why those two additions matter so much.
Passion is what separates people who have good ideas from people who fight for good ideas. In advertising — in any creative field — you will constantly be in rooms where the safe choice is being championed and the bold choice is being questioned. Passion is the fuel that keeps you advocating for the work that actually matters.
Courage is what gets the idea out of your head and into the world. It's the willingness to present something that might get rejected, to defend a concept that makes the client uncomfortable, to say "this is the right answer" when everyone else wants to hedge.
Intelligence without passion is just cleverness. Intelligence without courage is just potential. Together, all three elements create creativity that does something — creativity that moves people, changes behavior, and builds brands.
Pro Tip: The next time you're evaluating your own creative work, don't just ask "Is this smart?" Ask yourself: "Did I bring real passion to this? And did I have the courage to push it as far as it could go?" Those two questions will tell you more about the quality of your work than any focus group.
Tim was born on Christmas Day in Corsicana, Texas — a small north Texas town where the first oil west of the Mississippi was discovered. His father, Tommy McClure, built planes in World War II and came home to start an automotive repair business. His mother was an aspiring actress who performed book reviews on stage at Kinslow House.
He grew up in a time when kids rode their bikes all day with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in their backpack, and the only rule was be home by supper time.
Why does any of this matter to a lesson about creativity?
Because Tim is explicit about the connection: the people who shaped his values shaped his creative voice.
His grandmother, Eula Colson, taught him how to tap into his inner strengths. His father believed honesty wasn't just the best policy — it was the only policy. His mother was a natural presenter who drilled three words into him that he's carried his entire career:
"Stand up. Speak up. Shut up."
That's a masterclass in presentation in six words. Know what you're saying. Say it with confidence. Don't overstay your welcome.
Key Insight: Most creatives think their portfolio is their creative identity. Tim McClure would argue your values are your creative identity. The portfolio is just evidence of it. The values — honesty, curiosity, courage — those come from the people who raised you, the places that shaped you, and the experiences that tested you. Don't ignore that raw material. Mine it.
These aren't soft skills or background noise. They are the foundation of a creative philosophy. Honesty makes your work trustworthy. Presentation skills make your work heard. Curiosity keeps your work fresh. Without these virtues, even brilliant ideas die in conference rooms.
When GSD&M launched in 1971, the five founders had something most young creatives don't: they had no one to answer to.
"We never had any bosses," Tim says. "And that's an interesting way to grow up in this business. But it also meant we had no rules."
That freedom was both terrifying and liberating. There was no senior creative director to tell them what "good" looked like. No agency culture inherited from someone else. No New York template to follow.
What they had instead was each other — five people with wildly different backgrounds and skills. Steve Gerstitz (the G) was one of the most honest people Tim had ever met. Roy Spence (the S) was a government major who became one of the greatest pitch men on the planet. Jim Darlich (the D) was a fine art major and exceptional art director. Judy Trabulsi (the &) was a radio, television, and film major who became their media maven. And Tim (the M) was the writer and "pencil art director."
Different disciplines. Shared values. No rulebook.
That combination — diverse skills anchored by common values — turned out to be a competitive advantage. They attracted talent from New York, Chicago, California, and Florida. Not because Austin was a major advertising market, but because GSD&M was winning national and international awards, and their core values resonated with the best people in the industry.
Those core values are literally cast in concrete on the rotunda of GSD&M's office:
Pro Tip: If you're building a creative team — or even just defining your own creative practice — write down your values before you write down your goals. Goals change. Values are the filter through which every decision gets made. GSD&M's values weren't aspirational posters on a wall. They were the operating system of the agency.
Tim is generous in crediting the people who influenced him beyond his family. Three names stand out in his early career:
Red McCombs — One of the largest automobile dealers in the country, and later owner of the Minnesota Vikings and San Antonio Spurs. A businessman who understood scale and ambition.
Sam Walton — Tim worked with Walmart back when they were still a regional store. He watched Walton build one of the largest companies in American history from the ground up.
Herb Kelleher — The legendary chairman of Southwest Airlines. A cigarette-smoking, Wild Turkey-drinking, prank-playing visionary who became one of Tim's closest creative collaborators and one of the most important relationships of his career.
The Southwest Airlines story is worth pausing on. In 1981, Roy Spence was sitting outside Herb Kelleher's office when the previous agency walked out after resigning the account. Herb looked at Roy and asked, simply, "Do you guys do airline advertising?"
Roy said yes — and immediately called Tim. Tim wrote the Southwest anthem on the flight up to meet the client. That anthem became the foundation of one of the most beloved brand voices in American business history.
That's what happens when intelligence, passion, and courage are all operating at full capacity.
Here's the throughline of everything Tim McClure teaches: great creative careers aren't built on a collection of ads. They're built on a way of seeing the world.
Tim's way of seeing was shaped by:
That's not a résumé. That's a philosophy.
And the most important thing about a philosophy is that it travels with you. Campaigns end. Clients leave. Awards gather dust. But a clear creative philosophy — one rooted in your values, your curiosity, and your willingness to be courageous — that's what sustains a career across five decades.
Pro Tip: Take 15 minutes after this lesson and write down three people who shaped your values and what specifically they taught you. Then write one sentence that captures your personal definition of creativity. Don't borrow someone else's. Start with Einstein's if you need a foundation — but add your own missing ingredients, just like Tim did.
In the lessons ahead, we'll move from philosophy to practice — examining the specific campaigns, creative decisions, and client relationships that put Tim's philosophy to the test. We'll look at how Don't Mess with Texas was born, how Southwest Airlines found its voice, and what it actually looks like to have the courage to fight for work that matters.
But everything starts here. With a definition. With a set of values. With the understanding that who you are is inseparable from what you create.
Intelligence having fun. Passion. Courage.
That's the formula. Now let's see what you do with it.
Intelligence alone produces clever ideas. Passion gives you the drive to pursue them past the obvious, and courage gives you the nerve to present them — and defend them — when the room pushes back.
Everything. His father's commitment to honesty, his mother's presentation philosophy ('Stand up, speak up, shut up'), and his grandmother's lessons about inner strength all became the operating principles of his creative career and his agency.
Mark this lesson complete to track your progress