
A music label asked for a website. Diego Prusky found a larger problem: how to reach people when the rules keep changing. From Uruguay to Miami, the InPulse founder has kept asking before answering.

After helping build PMK-BNC, Michael Nyman left to try a different arrangement: specialist agencies with reasons to work together. His second act began with a family milestone and became Acceleration Community of Companies.
From international marketing to the leadership of MKTG, Matt Manning has built a career around the distance between buying attention and earning a place in a fan’s life.

She left IW Group, hired it twice, and came back to help change its business. Nita Song’s career makes a case for cultural knowledge that survives every change of platform.

Before a film has an opening weekend, it has a conversation. Brigade co-founder Tom Cunha has built a career in the space between a story and the people who might make it their own.
He arrived at Serino Coyne as an assistant account executive with an engineering education and a Navy background. Nineteen years later, Matt Upshaw bought the agency - and kept the people who had helped him build his career.
Before she led Taylor, Maeve Hagen defended a college field hockey goal and joined the agency as an intern. Her route to the top has been a study in staying, learning and making room for other people.
Sakebomb rented an office before it had a business, then turned Hollywood movie sites, skate culture and a taste for mischief into a working model for the early web. Its surviving portfolio is a time capsule of what happened when a tiny studio was allowed to make the campaign part of the entertainment.
A New York agency found its edge by treating publicity, social, creative, and media as one continuous conversation - then letting audiences finish the sentence.
42West built a serious business out of an odd Hollywood truth: the people paid to attract attention are most valuable when you barely notice them. Its product is not publicity alone - it is the choreography of attention.
The Syndicate began with five music promoters and a recently shuttered employer. Its most revealing idea cost $500 per band - and became a 20-year lesson in how brands earn a place in culture instead of renting one.
The New York agency’s best work begins with an object, a room, or a small piece of theater - then gives creators a reason to carry it far beyond the guest list.
Nicky Gathrite planned to make a living with his body. An injured knee sent him toward finance, social media and, eventually, an agency built on a deceptively simple bet: the right person can distribute a story better than an institution can.
Two magazine editors noticed that culture was escaping the magazine. They built an agency around the part that still mattered: knowing exactly who belongs in the room.
Most film marketing tries to get you into a seat. This unusual agency is paid to decide what you should do after you stand up.
MKTG built a business around a simple problem: fans refuse to sit still. Its answer combines research, rights strategy, creative work and the stubbornly physical craft of making an experience happen on time.
MSQ Sport + Entertainment grew from two founders and one trusting golf client into a three-city agency by treating fandom as a living culture, not rented media space.
In 2004, a sports publicity shop made the least agency-like decision imaginable: serve fewer clients. Two decades later, that constraint still explains how Taylor turns pints, pets, golf tournaments and bank reports into stories people pass along.

The Picture Motion CEO has spent his career closing the distance between a powerful story and the people who can carry it into the world. His method begins early, with community, partnership, and a deceptively practical question: who needs to see this?

The New York agency executive has spent two decades turning music, sport and entertainment fandom into an operating system for growth. Her second act with a trusted leadership trio suggests the real product is not attention - it is specialist judgment.
Burns Entertainment has spent 56 years on the less glamorous side of fame: deciding which famous face fits, what the rights are worth, and how to keep a clever idea from becoming an expensive misunderstanding.
A fake crash at a Los Angeles mall revealed a real law of modern marketing: build something fans will cross town to see, and the internet may carry it everywhere else.
Strike Marketing built a durable Houston agency around a deceptively hard promise: turn media spend into people who actually show up. Its advantage is less about inventing a new channel than knowing how to make every channel earn its place.
LIQUID SOUL built a business by noticing the people big campaigns treated as an afterthought - then proving, ticket by ticket and click by click, that attention was an economic asset.
Bravo Design built a durable business in the unglamorous space between one approved idea and the hundred finished pieces a campaign suddenly needs. Its advantage is not mystery. It is memory, speed and an unusual appetite for the last mile.
Lash Fary built a business by giving famous people things they could already afford. The merchandise is incidental; the scarce item in every bag is attention.
PMK•BNC's great trick was not knowing famous people. It was knowing how to turn that access into stories audiences volunteered to spread - even after a bruising merger tested the premise on day one.
The Los Angeles agency works in the narrow corridor where culture, commerce, and causes meet - building partnerships that carry money, meaning, and the risk of getting either one wrong.
The Pasadena firm sells strategy, publicity and business development in one relationship-heavy package. Its revealing advantage is not a single channel - it is the willingness to enter when a client has run out of hands, language or nerve.
The Los Angeles agency built a four-city operating system for the part of marketing that translation cannot solve: knowing which voice, room and ritual will make a message travel.