Chad Rea

Tell me about your time in advertising. How did you get started and why did you leave?

When I was 16, inspired by a family friend who was an advertising photographer, my dream was to own an ad agency on the beach with a dog and a convertible. Nearly every major life decision I made from then on was in pursuit of that dream. 

After graduating from Texas Tech University, attending two portfolio classes at East Texas State, and completing a 2-semester internship at The Richards Group, I landed my first copywriter job at Pyro where I learned the art of writing headlines from Todd Tilford, one of the most awarded copywriters of the time. I then hopped the pond to Mother (London) and KesselsKramer (Amsterdam) where I learned to think bigger and funnier without any preconceived notions of what advertising is, as well as try out virtually every hat in the building. I also learned how to be my most important client, produce my own initiatives - like books, records, and tees - and self-promote like a mofo. 

When I was 32, full of inspiration, confidence, and naivety, that childhood dream of mine came true with 86 the onions, the unconventional agency I founded on Venice Beach…with a TT Roadster and a dog named Star. Five and a half years later, after single-handedly running a “creatives only” shop with an impressive roster of sexy clients, and facing my second career burnout (The first was after a 7-pitch marathon at Mother), I short-sightedly walked away from my childhood dream at the height of 86’s success. I was spent. 

Believing I could bypass clients altogether and develop and market my own consumer goods, I invested most of my agency winnings into a handful of ill-equipped eco-friendly ventures before Wieden + Kennedy backed up the money truck and asked if I wanted to be a CD on Target. I was sold a bill of goods that I thought was a great idea. It wasn’t. Apparently, no one else got the memo and, 8 months later, I found myself freelancing for brands I could care less about and trying to find my mojo again. 

When I had 86, I also taught at Art Center College of Design. I really enjoyed that. I wanted to teach again, namely to impart the wisdom I had gathered in Europe that seemed to be lost on most US agencies and clients. I also needed to get out of the gray and back into the sunshine, so I set my sights on UT Austin where I landed a full-time gig co-running their advertising program. Still, I freelanced and took on voiceover jobs to supplement my teacher’s salary. 

Another 5 and a half years later (a pattern?), Boise called with an opportunity to become a partner in a small, rather traditional B-Corp agency with clients I could feel good about. I commuted from Austin for five months while I finished out my final semester at UT only to be reminded in the final weeks before moving that managing an agency still wasn’t for me. My highly coveted teaching position now occupied, I was back to working as a behind-the-scenes freelancer and just beginning to push paint…completing over 100 paintings in 172 days. Yeah, I was definitely making art - and even had my first solo show - but I wasn’t yet an artist. Or so I thought. 

Experiencing a bit of an identity crisis, I attended a weekend workshop in LA on the topic of “Soul Purpose”. Co-hosted by Kirk Souder, an ad legend turned leadership coach, I walked out of there owning the previously shunned title of Artist. For the first time since age 16, I had a new North Star. 

For me, “Artist” encompasses everything I do, including advertising which I still haven’t completely closed the door on. After all, I do like fancy convertibles. While I don’t solicit freelance gigs, my rotary phone occasionally rings and helps fund my ambitious art projects or at least gives me more runway before that door slams shut on another middle-aged creative for good. 

At heart, I’ve always been an independent artist. I just didn’t have the confidence to be a professional artist or author, so like many of us, I chose the next best thing: advertising. Being creative on demand, navigating the gauntlet of committees, suffering inefficient processes, and having to compromise my vision on things only people in marketing care way too much about eventually drove me back to the path of less resistance. As an artist, I still get to address cultural insights, problem-solve, and craft communication but without having to make anyone else happy but myself. Had 16-year-old me known this, I might’ve arrived here sooner - in a van down by the river, no less - but without all the invaluable skills gained from nearly 30 years in advertising. And for that, I’m grateful.

What are you doing now? 

I’ve been making and exhibiting art non-stop since 2017. What started as activist art, or artivism, has evolved into what I call Heartivism. Thanks to the completion of a 2-year certification program in Spiritual Psychology, I was able to move from a shared upset to a shared joy and live my life more authentically. And life is good. 

Post-Covid, I moved 30 miles east of Austin to Lockhart, The BBQ Capital of Texas. It’s a small town of roughly 15,000 people, many of whom are creative types who were priced out of Austin or simply looking for a more low ‘n slow-cooked lifestyle. (A former girlfriend referred to it as the Williamsburg of Texas, and she pretty much nailed it.) I bought a house with the sole intention of turning it into a community space, art gallery, Airbnb, art studio, and of course, my residence. It’s called LockhART HOUSE, and like 86 the onions, it’s designed to be a hub for all things creative…except the dream I’m currently living out has two dogs, a convertible, and a brand new airport shuttle bus (aka The Art Bus) that I’m renting out for cultural excursions, as well as hauling my art to various art fairs around the country. 

I’m also starting to curate and produce art events outside of The Art House. Most recently, I invited 8 acclaimed Central Texas artists to join me in transforming the insides of five abandoned grain silos into immersive art installations. Thanks to the event's success, it looks like it will become a bi-annual event. And, of course, I get to make the ads.