Bobby Ford is a multidisciplinary creator who is a champion of artists, visionaries and impact-driven entrepreneurs. He spent three decades as a Creative Director in the ad game, he’s directed and produced short films and a play, as well as acting on stage. He’s the author of Rebels That Break Things and the founder of Bobby Ford Studios.
Ikigai. Our Reason For Being.
"The Institution was a small black box community theatre that sat eighty people. I was playing the role of Samuel Beckett in a production I had created, produced and directed. Entirely improvised, yet intensely dramatic, it shattered people’s preconceptions about improv. As I stood before the audience, staring at a particular spotlight, the world melted away. The beam of light became a version of God that had failed me. Decades of trauma poured out in a tsunami of raw emotion. My voice cracked, then cracked again. You could have heard a pin drop. Artistic expression has long been a faithful bard for my deepest wounds.
Childhood trauma cuts to the marrow. The longer the trauma endures, the deeper the cuts. Unfortunately, my suffering started at birth and lasted twenty-plus years. Where have the memories of my youth gone? You never shake the loss of your wonder years. Beneath my skin, tattooed on bone, the wounds of old. Childhood was survival. Innocence was a weakness. I was legally on my own by age sixteen. The tough streets of Los Angeles are not a safe place for a kid.
The age-old Japanese concept of ikigai refers to a person’s reason for being. My ikigai as a teen was simple. Survive! Live to fight another day. Still, suing my parents for emancipation was a bold move. Merely surviving was never an option. The wheels of ingenuity were churning even back then. There had to be a way out! My job was to find it. The terrors of daily life remained, but my imagination believed in a better future.
Which brings us to Mrs. Brunk, my elementary school creative writing teacher. She told me I had a rare gift. When living a nightmare, such praise was water to a well run dry. Poetry became a refuge. A rhythmic language that captured the visceral essence of my existence. Severe anxiety. Fight or flight. Going to a shopping mall felt like stepping into a war zone! Putting words on the page gave those experiences a voice. Crisp. Clear. Honest.
I landed my first sales job in my mid-twenties. It felt like a miracle, given my upbringing. How to succeed in a career that offers a way out? It was an overwhelming yet exhilarating opportunity. There was no plan. I was unrelenting and hungry. For what … who knows? My ikigai, my reason for being had shifted from survive to thrive.
Several nights a week, I parked my company car, a red Ford Taurus, in a wealthy neighbourhood that overlooked the ocean. All the mansions had a golden glow that I find enchanting to this day. Once the interior light clicked on, my study session commenced. Books, training tapes and scribbled notes installed the fundamentals of business.
How to dress, talk, sell, time management, anything that might set the stage for success. Did I know this at the time? Not at all! Still, my mobile university gave me hope. In the world of knowledge, I was an equal. Anything was possible. I just had to put in the work.
Eventually, I grew out of my seaside studies. Cal State Long Beach dedicated an entire floor of its library to business. Imagine the possibilities! I studied marketing, branding, TQM, servant leadership and the mechanics of peak performance. Cramming Peter Senge’s, The Fifth Discipline laid the foundation for my consulting practice decades later. Pretending to be undergrad had its perks.
Why study in a car? Why pretend to be a college student? My business career was not the byproduct of a supportive family (which did not exist) nor an articulated plan. I hadn’t talked to my maniacal bio-dad in years and my mother’s alcoholism was so bad she could no longer function. Pursuing a traditional education was not in the cards. I did what I had to do to succeed. It’s a lonely memory thick with despair. But it’s also a point of pride. I am a proud graduate of Red Ford Taurus University! No, we don’t have a football team.
My mom was 53 when she was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. I was just beginning to rise above my trauma when the diagnosis blew me out of the water. Everything came to an abrupt halt. On one side was the woman who was sober by day and kind to everyone. On the other was the wet brain alcoholic who believed people with specific license plates were out to get her. How to reconcile the balance sheet?
After her diagnosis, I sat near her bed as she slept. Watching her chest rise and fall was reassuring yet wrought with despair. The gift of breath was evidence of life. Please, Mom, keep breathing! We had an incredible year together before her final trip to the hospital. She passed as I held her hand. I was twenty-eight years old.
The anguish from my tortured life became fuel to succeed. Buyer beware! This does not happen overnight. Transforming deep wounds into powerful assets is a lengthy endeavour. Eventually, patiently, street smarts became the hallmark of my personal brand.
By my late twenties, I was the National Sales Manager for the oldest aviation college in the United States, managing a two-million dollar ad budget. By my early thirties, I was the GM and Creative Director of an ad agency with seventy-plus clients. By my late thirties, I had my own agency with seventeen clients until the 9-11 terrorist attacks gutted my business. In 2002, I formed my brand and management consultancy of 21 years. I’ve done paid speaking gigs for groups of 20 to 2,000. I did all of these things without (formally) attending university.
After the events of 9-11, I went dark with all of my client’s ads. What to do? How to best support them? How to help them reach out from a place of empathy? I decided to ghostwrite a deeply human letter customised to each client. As the horrors of the terrorist attacks played out on TV, I wept as I wrote each word. The letters ran as full-page ads. We had nothing to sell, only support to offer. People were shattered. We had to extend a kind hand. My clients were blown away by the words I put on the page.
I can’t help but think back to Mrs. Brunk and her encouragement. Had she not affirmed the creative potential within me, would I be writing this post? Had I not trusted the notion I could beat impossible odds, would I have kicked down impenetrable doors? Imagination dares us to dream despite the current evidence. Imagination invests in the things we have yet to discover.
A single act of whimsy in 2006 sparked my artistic soul. I never felt so alive in my life! I decided to take a crash course on filmmaking. I was forty-three years old. I had already spent over a decade producing and directing in the ad game, so why not give the arts a shot?
The process of telling stories with pictures kidnapped every ounce of my being. Over several years, I attended numerous filmmaking intensives in Los Angeles and Austin. Books on cinematic storytelling were consumed with reckless abandon. I attended the Austin Film Festival several years in a row. Finally! People who got me. We spoke a common language.
I directed and produced two short films, one premiering in the UK. At best, I dabbled and yet, the filmmaking process kidnapped my soul with no hope of escape. My mind was drunk with ideas. Possibilities. Hidden realms appeared. Seeing my work on the big screen, followed by a tour through film festivals, brought meaning to my life.
What about acting? I could never memorise the lines! Maybe, improv? Bingo! Two improv schools later with countless intensives, I was hooked. There are no words for the power of improv. It’s a therapeutic roller coaster with a side of Sesame Street. Can Bobby come out and play? I finally got to be a kid.
A classmate and I put together an improv duo that did over thirty shows in New York City accents. How is that possible? The magic of telling improvised stories on tiny stages to tiny audiences is exhilarating. It got me thinking. How to unleash the dramatic potential of improv?
The answer came from an improv show where a young gay man, a member of the audience, bravely shared the extreme shame he felt when coming out. How to put an audience in the middle of such a moment? I transformed several of Samuel Beckett’s one-act plays into an absurdist improv format. To do so was heresy. I called the show “Breaking Beckett.”
I had no training in directing theatre. How the hell was I going to pull this off? I had to age myself twenty years using theatrical makeup! Are you fracking kidding me? Would anyone show up? I was flying without a net.
The format was raw, absurd, dramatic and entirely improvised to include the music. The cast and crew’s input was a gift beyond description. The same with the mentors who got behind the project. Each show ended with the actors lowering their heads and shuffling, as a group, downstage towards the audience. Once settled, the protagonist, who changed each show, slowly raised their head to deliver one of my favourite Beckett lines.
“I pause to record that I feel in extraordinary form. Delirium perhaps.”
Frank Benge from Broadway World wrote, “One of the main functions of theatre is to make an audience think. In this regard, Breaking Beckett, now playing at The Institution Theatre, succeeds. I will probably be thinking about this piece for some time to come.” Entertaining people has never been my jam. Getting people to think? Shattering walls? Pure adrenaline! The reviews hit home. My reason for being shifted from thriving to artistic expression, but to what end?
Imagine a world that measures success by creativity, passion, and human impact. That world starts with us! Let’s lead the change. The vision statement for Bobby Ford Studios, which I launched in 2023. I work with creative, passionate people who are driven by an INTENSE desire to do meaningful, impactful work. A space where your most authentic self is not only celebrated, but becomes the cornerstone of your work, brand and legacy. The same with my podcast, Creative Minds Like Us.
My latest adventure reaffirms my belief that we never graduate, and that there is no finish line. The canvas fills and then it’s blank again, waiting for fresh paint. New colours. A fresh perspective. The next story to be told. My only claim to fame is my willingness to grab the pen and write the narrative.
Not too long ago, when on a walk, I came upon a stunned bird stranded in the middle of the road. As I gently scooped it up for rescue, it violently trembled and wildly chirped in protest. Tucked into the comfort of a shaded bush, my avian friend felt safe again. All was well.
When I returned home, an avalanche of tears caught me off guard. So many feels! The entirety of my life encapsulated in a bird rescue. The metaphor that hit deep. I know well the need to be shuttled to safety when stunned by life. I also heed the call when someone in need appears in my life. Maybe, just maybe, this is the true meaning of ikigai. Our universal reason for being. To be cared for and to care for others. Maybe it’s that simple. And to do all of that as imperfect, beautiful beings.
Together, we walk."
Bobby Ford
https://creativemindslikeus.com/
