Leo Sierra on Ideas That Hack The Platform

Leo Sierra is a senior creative based in Madrid, currently part of Studio X (VML Spain), where he works across Coca-Cola’s European brands, shaping ideas at the intersection of culture, behaviours and platforms. Over the last 15+ years, he has built a career defined by curiosity, strategic thinking, and a commitment to ideas that feel natural in the real world, not only in presentations.

He began his journey in agencies such as DDB and Publicis, where he worked as a copywriter and later as a creative director, developing award-winning work recognised nationally and internationally. He then moved into the entertainment industry, spending five years at Warner Music Spain, where he crafted creative concepts, brand partnerships and cultural storytelling alongside artists and labels, an experience that strengthened his instinct for ideas that feel lived rather than forced.

Today, Leo’s work sits precisely where behaviours, platforms and culture meet. He focuses on shaping ideas that tap into how people already interact, across digital ecosystems, social behaviours or unexpected real world moments, and on helping teams think in systems rather than isolated assets.

Beyond advertising, Leo is a street photographer, a music obsessive, and someone who believes the best ideas come from paying close attention to the world (real and digital). That lens – half analytical, half emotional – is what he brings into every brief, every concept and every collab.

Leo sat down with LBB to discuss the basis of his own creativity, as well as how his approach to judging work has evolved

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PERSON

I’ve always felt my creativity comes from living in two modes at once. One part of me is introverted, quiet and observant, the kind of person who notices the exact moment someone loosens their shoulders, or how a background colour suddenly completes a scene when someone walks by wearing the perfect contrasting shade. Those tiny signals become raw material I collect without even trying. But when I feel at ease, another part of me appears: the playful, collaborative one that turns those silent observations into ideas. My creativity lives in the tension between those two instincts.

There’s a cartoon by the Venezuelan artist Eneko hanging in my studio that reads: ‘You have to grow, so the child inside you will have more space to play.’ That’s exactly how I experience life and creativity. I approach the work with responsibility, but I approach ideas with curiosity. Creativity needs room to play, to explore, to make something out of nothing.

But that space doesn’t sustain itself. I’ve learned I need habits and iteration to protect it, while being careful to leave breathing room inside the structure. Too much routine makes the work predictable; too little makes it unfocused. I try to live in the middle: enough discipline to move forward, enough openness to be surprised.

And even though I enjoy what I do, most of my inspiration lives outside advertising: in music, photography, design, social media, video games. Those worlds still surprise me. And that surprise is always where my ideas begin.

PRODUCT

When I look at a piece of work, I pay attention to how it makes me feel, to the impression it leaves behind. Sometimes it’s: ‘I wasn’t expecting this.’ Other times: ‘Of course! This is exactly how it should be.’ And sometimes it’s that quiet frustration of: ‘I should’ve thought of this.’ That emotional trace tells me more than any formal criteria.

I’m drawn to ideas that find a new angle without shouting for attention. Work that feels culturally grounded, honest, scalable and fluent in how people actually speak. Ideas that aren’t trying to conquer the world, but reveal something that was already there.

My criteria have changed over time. When I was younger, I cared more about the clever twist for its own sake. Now I think much more about where and how an idea reaches someone. If a message appears in a place where people already feel comfortable (a behaviour, a platform, a ritual) it has a far better chance of being believed, felt and shared. An idea doesn’t need to demand attention; it just needs to belong.

What excites me most is work that becomes part of culture instead of interrupting it. Ideas that ‘hack the platform,’ that slip into real behaviours, the kind anyone could have made if they had noticed the same cultural loophole. Those ideas feel alive.

To me, the industry today moves between two impulses: work that tries to create meaning and work that tries to achieve metrics. Both matter, but only the first one leaves something that lasts. Culture remembers what feels true.

PROCESS

After reading a brief, the first thing I try to understand is where the idea could actually live. I look for the platform, the moment or the behaviour where the message would feel natural, a place where the brand can enter the conversation without forcing it. Finding that ‘home’ early on helps me see the creative potential more clearly and shapes everything long before I think about executions.

From there, I focus on how the message might resonate. I pay attention to the emotional tone of the moment, to how people are behaving, to what feels honest right now. I’m not chasing ideas yet; I’m trying to sense what kind of idea would feel true. Once I find that alignment, that ‘platform hack’, the creative process starts moving almost on its own.

When the idea itself begins to take shape, my process shifts depending on whether I’m working alone or with a partner. When I’m alone, I let the thoughts move freely: I write fragments, test tiny angles, walk while everything rearranges itself. I use AI like a wide-angle lens, to map possibilities, uncover blind spots, and stretch the idea before committing to anything.

With a partner, the process becomes shared. It stops being ‘your idea’ or ‘my idea’ and naturally becomes ‘our idea.’ Conversations replace internal monologues, contradictions sharpen thinking, and two perspectives start building a single direction in real time. It’s not about merging two processes; it’s about creating a new one together.

I know a piece is ready when it fits naturally into the space I identified at the start. If it feels authentic there, not like an interruption, but like something that truly belongs, something users in that space could have made themselves, then it’s ready.

PRESS

I grew up in Caracas, in a home where curiosity was part of everyday life. My father, an art critic, filled our days with books, exhibitions and conversations about meaning. My mother, a chemist specialised in paper conservation, taught me to value precision and how even the smallest, invisible detail can change everything. That mix of emotional and analytical thinking shaped how I approach creativity today.

Venezuela influenced me in quieter ways. Not through chaos, but through a cultural instinct for resourcefulness. Improvisation is part of the Venezuelan DNA. Watching how people solve the everyday with ingenious, simple solutions taught me to appreciate ideas that are intuitive and culturally sharpened.

Silence has always been the place where I think best. Today, music plays a big role in how I work. When I go on photo walks through Madrid, music acts like a filter. It isolates me just enough from the environment to see it with a bit of distance. That distance helps me notice moments that vanish when you’re too immersed: a shadow aligning with a colour, a gesture that tells a story, two strangers mirroring each other without realising it. Photography taught me to capture what disappears; music helps me detach just enough to recognise it.

Those early influences shaped how I work with clients, too. I’ve learned that clarity is one of the most powerful forces in any creative project. A brief overloaded with objectives dilutes ideas instantly. A focused intention, on the other hand, gives creativity something meaningful to respond to.

Inside agencies, culture matters as much as talent. People do their best work when they feel confident, when iteration is welcomed, and when there’s space to think. Creativity needs freedom, yes, but it also needs an environment where that freedom can turn into something real.