In the hallowed halls of New York’s Museum of Modern Art during this year’s AICP Week, the advertising world paused to honour one of its greatest provocateurs.
The occasion was the premiere of Here’s to the Crazy Ones, a new documentary tracing the untamed genius and artistic legacy of Lee Clow.
A surfer, storyteller, rebel, and the mind behind campaigns like Apple’s 1984, Think Different, Adidas’ Impossible Is Nothing, and even the Energizer Bunny.
Back home in Malaysia, another great creative soul who believed in that same fearless fire quietly left us on June 10th.
Hashimi, my former art director and a kindred spirit of the Clow school, was one of the rare few who didn’t just make ads—he chased meaning.
Deeply inspired by Lee Clow’s renegade artistry, Hashimi believed that ideas should stir, provoke, and above all, matter.
He would have loved this film.
Beyond the archive footage and creative war stories, this documentary offers something more urgent for our times.
It’s a wake-up call to every young Malaysian creative stuck in a system that often rewards compliance over courage.
From Ad Man to Art Prophet
Clow’s work wasn’t just about products.
It was about possibilities.
As RadicalMedia’s Jon Kamen (who produced the documentary with director Alain Brière) put it, “The best way to honour Lee was to simply let him talk, surrounded by people who’ve shared his journey.”
What emerged was not just a film, but a philosophy.
One rooted in stubborn idealism, raw emotional honesty, and an almost spiritual belief in the innate power of storytelling.
In one scene, Clow recalls working with Steve Jobs, saying:
“Steve didn’t want advertising. He wanted art that could sell.”
That wasn’t a strategy.
That was a creed.
And one we should take to heart here in Malaysia, where far too many great ideas get smothered by safety, hierarchy, or a hunger to please.
What Malaysian Creatives Can Learn
The lesson here isn’t to idolise Clow—it’s to channel him.
Here’s to the Crazy Ones isn’t just a documentary; it’s a blueprint for every young Malaysian dreamer with a pen in hand or a vision in mind.
It reminds us that creativity isn’t about getting it “right”—it’s about getting it real.
At a time when AI-generated content floods the feed and marketing gets sliced into data segments and click-throughs, Clow’s legacy offers a different, deeper blueprint.
One where storytelling reigns supreme.
One where the emotional core of an idea matters more than its algorithmic reach.
In Malaysia—where humour, language, and culture collide in unique, vibrant ways—this couldn’t be more timely.
The Permission to Be Different
What makes Clow’s story so powerful is that it wasn’t smooth.
He failed. He doubted. He fought.
But he never compromised the belief that advertising could be poetry—and that brands could stand for more than sales.
The film captures this with rare sensitivity.
It doesn’t just celebrate the campaigns; it honours the chaos behind them.
“There was always this belief that advertising was this corporate machine,” said Brière.
“But what Lee showed us was that advertising, at its best, is personal. It’s messy. It’s brave.”
So why are we still playing it safe?
Malaysian creatives—whether in agencies, production houses, TikTok studios or classrooms—need to stop asking for permission to be different.
The truth is: our greatest ideas often begin with the ones we’re too afraid to pitch.
And as Clow’s story shows, it’s the brave, not the perfect, who shape culture.
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Belonging Means Bravery
Clow often said, “To belong, you need to be brave enough to be different.”
That message should hit home for every young Malaysian trying to find their voice in an industry still tethered to conventional success metrics.
The brands of the future won’t win on scale—they’ll win on soul.
And you can’t fake soul.
The question isn’t whether Malaysia has talent.
We do.
The question is whether we have the will to fight for ideas that don’t fit neatly into pitch decks or client comfort zones.
So here’s my plea:
Be unreasonable. Be relentless. Be kind, but not timid.
Build campaigns that feel more like causes.
Write lines that shake people.
Design ideas that don’t whisper—they sing.
The documentary may not yet be streaming.
But its message is loud and clear:
Stop waiting for the world to hand you a script.
Write your own.
And if it makes people nervous, you’re probably doing something right.
The late Hashimi used to say, “If it doesn’t move you, it won’t move them.”
He was one of Malaysia’s quiet rebels—never loud, but always loud in spirit.
He believed, like Clow, that creativity wasn’t just about work—it was about wonder.
In remembering him, we’re reminded that the real ones—the ones who shape culture, who light the path for others—often burn brightest away from the spotlight.
Here’s to Hashimi, and to every unsung visionary who dared to believe that gila ideas could change the game.
Here’s to the crazy ones. When ‘Gila’Gila’ Become Geniuses.
May many more of them rise right here, in Malaysia.
