There’s a certain kind of leadership that haunts creative industries—architecture, design, even film. You know the type: the ego-driven principal whose title seems to grow bigger than the buildings they design. The kind of leader who believes power is wielded, not earned. I’ve worked with them, watched them, and honestly, learned what not to do.

After a decade in architecture, and now deep into my Master of Design Methods program at the Institute of Design, I’ve been thinking hard about leadership. What kind of leader do I want to be—not just in title, but in practice? Every time I’m given the chance to guide a team, collaborate, or influence outcomes, one personal measure matters most: did I earn my team’s respect and their love?

That might sound soft in a world that often glorifies the lone genius. But if this past year has taught me anything, it’s that the best leaders aren’t the loudest in the room—they’re the ones others want to follow.

Naturally, because I’m surrounded by frameworks these days (thank you, design school), I built one for myself. A leadership gut check, if you will. And yes—sarcastically, I named it T.A.R. A nod to TÁR, the film about the brilliant, power-hungry conductor whose downfall is her own ego. Unlike Lydia Tár, I don’t believe leadership is about control or being the genius everyone orbits. My version of T.A.R. flips that script entirely:

T.A.R. — Transparency. Accountability. Relatability.

Transparency

No hidden agendas, no dangling carrots. Everyone on my team should know:

• Why we’re doing something

• What’s expected from us (and by when)

• What’s coming down from the client or leadership

• How success (or failure) will be measured

Creative work is already messy—why muddy the waters further by keeping information to yourself?

Accountability

This isn’t about managing. It’s about playing my part—and being clear about what that is. I’ll take ownership of where I add value, where I need help, and where I might even fall short.

Leadership, to me, means rolling up my sleeves and working with my team. Not hovering above them with a red pen.

Relatability

I’ve been in their shoes. Drafting late nights, navigating impossible client asks, juggling deadlines that feel like afterthoughts from someone three floors up.

The people I lead aren’t just “resources.” They’re my partners. If they win, I win. If they struggle, I’m right there struggling too. Relatability means remembering the human side of the work. Sharing the burden—and the credit.

Why This Matters Now

I’m writing this because I see too many leaders default to old models—especially in architecture and design. Models where knowledge is hoarded, mistakes are blamed downwards, and “leadership” looks a lot like “power.”

But the future of creative leadership isn’t ego-driven. It’s emotionally intelligent. It’s designed—like everything else we do—with intention.

For me, T.A.R. is that intention. A reminder that leadership is earned every day, not given by title. And if that makes me the anti-architect architect? So be it.

Takeaway

Whether you’re leading a project, a team, or just figuring out the kind of leader you don’t want to be—try putting T.A.R. on your own workbench:

• Are you being transparent?

• Are you holding yourself accountable?

• Are you connecting with your team as people, not just players?

It’s not a perfect system—but it’s a start. One that feels a lot less selfish, and a hell of a lot more sustainable.