In-Person Time

As Eme Lawton said last week, it can get lonely as a remote creative. Since COVID hit in April 2020, a small studio has been fully remote. It’s allowed us to recruit remarkable talent from around the world and lead global projects from right here in Cleveland, Ohio.

But I’d be lying if I said I never fantasized about having my team around me. Honestly, I think about it every day. That casual tap on the shoulder. An impromptu walk-and-talk. A spontaneous airbrush session. Come on, that’s how many of us were trained to collaborate. I even catch myself wondering what it would be like to pull an all-nighter again. (These days, all-nighters are reserved for my toddlers.)

Eight years into this journey with a small studio, here’s one truth I’ve come to believe: in-person still matters.

My rule of thumb? One in-person retreat can recharge a remote team’s creative chemistry for at least six months, depending on your culture, much longer. These retreats have taken all forms: a two-night Airbnb weekend, a week in the woods, a campsite near a lake. They’re always overnight, always immersive, and always intentional. I think of them as detox for our culture, filtering tensions, clearing blockages, and energizing us for what’s ahead.

A few weeks ago, I got to experience this firsthand when Jake, Ella, and I met in Wildwood, New Jersey at Jake’s beach house. It was our first time being together in person. It was short, but it was epic. Here’s why:

We lived together.

Jake’s house was just blocks from the beach. We shared awkward good nights and tiptoed around bathroom etiquette. I did burpees outside Jake’s bedroom door because, well, that’s who I am. It was intimate. But in that intimacy, something beautiful happened: we collaborated more naturally. The boundaries were clear, the vibes were relaxed, and because it was Jake’s home, we all felt welcome.

We played together.

Our only formal goal was to align on summer strategy. Outside of that, we intentionally had no agenda. We mini-golfed (I lost), biked to the beach, watched dolphins, and laughed through a surprisingly decent Netflix movie. Ella even challenged me to a martial arts match. (Jake was entertained) It’s in these unscripted moments that you get to know the human behind the Zoom square. According to a 2023 Buffer report, 52% of remote workers say they struggle to feel connected to their coworkers. That stat didn’t apply to us that weekend; we remembered what connection felt like and, for Jake and Ella, established a true connection.

We created together.

Ella and Jake have designed hundreds of things side-by-side, virtually. But this was the first time they got to create in the same space. Each of them with their own process, posture, and rhythm. What’s usually flattened through a screen became animated and alive. They didn’t just make something, they made magic. With an airbrush, a stencil, a laptop, and a healthy dose of curiosity. That energy was contagious. Everything we did together fed that moment. It was the kind of creative synergy that could fuel a team for the rest of the year.

Then we went home. Back to our cities, our screens, and our Slack channels.

But we were different.

The thing about working remotely is you can build a career, complete a project, even scale a business, without ever seeing the people you work with. But when you do see them? When you break bread, breathe the same air, and witness each other’s weird little habits?

You don’t just build better work.

You build trust.

You build momentum.

You build something real.

If you lead any team, find a way to be in person. Even just once or twice a year. It doesn’t have to be big. It just has to be intentional.

Because behind every great creative team is a moment where someone finally got to say:

I see you. For real.

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