Grow YOUR Design Agency in Under 2 Hours @Hoodzpah
Chris Do and Hoodzpah's Amy and Jen Hood break down the unconventional path from coupon ads to building a world-class design agency.
Chris Do
Founder, The Futur™ · August 6, 2023
The Invisible Ladder
At the start of a creative career, everything is leveraged on hard skills. Portfolio reviews are about execution. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. People hire you based on a simple question: Show me what you can do.
But as you move up, the rules change. The ladder of success is invisible, and the rungs are made of different material. The emphasis skews heavily, almost entirely, toward soft skills.
As Jen Hood, co-founder of the design agency Hoodzpah, explains, “Creative directors who've been creative directors for years and years and years, if you ask them to open a file and do something, it's kind of interesting. They don't really have those hard skills directly anymore. They just have really great taste and vision, and you know, they get paid for that.”
This is the paradox of creative mastery. The very tools that got you in the door become secondary to your ability to lead, to persuade, and to see what others cannot. This is not about forgetting how to design. It is about graduating to a different level of problem-solving.
No one exemplifies this journey from scrappy execution to visionary leadership better than twin sisters Amy and Jen Hood. Alongside Chris Do, they dissect the unconventional, often chaotic, path to building a renowned creative business. Their story is not one of linear progression or academic prestige. It is a story of grit, audacity, and an unwavering belief in their own potential, long before the world agreed.
The Seeds of Chutzpah
The Hoodzpah origin story begins not in a design school classroom, but in a childhood steeped in entrepreneurial ethos. Born in California but raised for their formative years in Kentucky, the twins were encouraged by their mother to think like business owners from day one. “Our mom always had this great idea that she would raise entrepreneurs,” Amy recalls.
This wasn’t just talk. The sisters were tasked with writing books and sketching out murals for their bedroom walls, which they had to pitch like a formal client proposal to their mother, the “art director.” She instilled in them a sense of blind belief that they could make things, do things, and succeed on their own terms. This wasn't a lesson in art; it was a lesson in agency.
The other side of the family provided the work ethic. “It’s the Jost family line,” Amy says. “And it’s the hood also. My dad too. They have always been very just like hard workers, like never expect anything to be given to you. You have to work and claw for it and then say thank you.”
Their grandmother was a particularly powerful influence. A “baller” who ran multiple grassroots businesses, from a country store to a backhoe service, she embodied financial prudence and independence. “She would pay for a Cadillac every year in cash,” Amy says, noting the car was gently used. The secret was simple: live below your means. “A dollar saved is way worth more than a dollar earned,” a principle that would prove critical to their survival in the lean early years of their business.
Creativity, however, served a more immediate, social purpose. Moving frequently between California, Wisconsin, New York, and Kentucky before the age of 16 made them perpetual outsiders. Art became their currency for connection.
“If you're an artist, you can make friends despite being kind of like, you know, zitty and awkward,” Jen jokes. Designing a poster for a friend’s band or doodling comics was a way to find common ground. It was a skill that gave them cachet in the harsh social hierarchy of high school. In a world that often felt unwelcoming, creativity was their bridge.
The transition from art as a hobby to design as a career happened almost by accident. While attending community college, Jen took a career aptitude test. “The computer said design,” she recalls, “and I said, I think I'm already doing that for my friend's band.” She was creating posters by doodling, scanning the art, and adding text in Comic Sans, unaware that this raw process was the foundation of graphic design.
Forging Skills in the Trenches
The twins’ formal design education was shockingly brief. “We took two classes in community college,” Jen admits. Their real training came from a three-year, high-pressure apprenticeship at a local magazine that was, in Amy’s words, a glorified coupon clipper.
After overstaying their welcome at community college for five years while working to pay for school and rent, Amy landed the job through a connection at her coffee shop job. The magazine owner needed two designers. Amy knew exactly who to call. “I happen to know somebody who I know works as hard as I do,” she says of recruiting her sister, Jen.
The pay was meager. Jen had been making good money in tips as a server at California Pizza Kitchen and saw the magazine job as a step back financially. But the alternative, a long-term career in food service, was a grim prospect. “I was like, I can't keep doing this. This is really bad for my psyche,” she says.
They dove in. The work was a relentless grind of rapid-fire ad production. They were responsible for creating 50 ads each for two, and eventually three, publications with a 30-day turnaround. They recreated logos from 300-pixel JPEGs and churned out print work for countless small businesses.
This experience, while unglamorous, was an invaluable bootcamp. It provided what author Malcolm Gladwell calls the 10,000 hours of practice needed to achieve mastery. While they didn’t learn the sophisticated strategy taught in elite design programs, they developed something just as critical.
Their on-the-job training provided crucial development in two areas:
- Hard Skills through Repetition: The sheer volume of work forced them to become incredibly fast and proficient in the design software. They learned by doing, over and over again.
- Soft Skills under Pressure: They had to manage dozens of clients on tight deadlines. They were forced to get on the phone, a terrifying prospect for many millennials, and learn to communicate with different personality types, lead conversations, and confidently guide clients to approvals.
“We learned all the really good things of soft skills,” Jen explains. “Dealing with so many clients on such a short deadline all the time, just learning to focus their attention, learning all the different communication styles.” These skills, forged in the crucible of a high-volume, low-budget print house, would become the bedrock of their future agency.
An Unplanned Leap
The decision to start Hoodzpah was not a calculated career move. It was an act of survival. The coupon magazine folded, leaving Amy and Jen unemployed and, on paper, largely un-hirable for the design jobs they wanted.
As Amy bluntly states, “On paper we were not hireable for the reasons that we have said: one design class, worked at a coupon clipper.” Their portfolio was a collection of ads for local carpet cleaners, not the sexy brand identities that land jobs at top agencies.
They were faced with a stark choice: try to find another low-level production job or bet on themselves. They chose the latter. The timing was forced upon them, but the ambition was already there. For months, friends had been asking them to take on small design projects, but their full-time jobs left no time. Now, they had nothing but time.
They were 25 years old, living in expensive Orange County with minimal savings. At one point, they shared a house with eight people, their designated workspace a sectioned-off corner of the living room. This became “Hoodzpah HQ.”
This is a critical moment many aspiring entrepreneurs face. Do you wait for the perfect conditions, for a robust savings account and a polished business plan? Or do you jump, driven by necessity and what Amy calls blind ambition? The Hood sisters' story is a testament to the power of the latter. As Do often emphasizes, constraints can be a powerful catalyst for creativity and action, a central theme in his discussion with entrepreneur Ryan Blair.
“Nothing will force you or persuade you more than not having any other fallback,” Jen says. “You have to pay your bills.”
Their initial strategy was simple: outreach. They contacted everyone they knew who had previously asked for work. They took on any project they could get. They weren't picky. They just needed to generate income and start building a new body of work. The confidence gap was real, but the network gap and opportunity gap were smaller than they appeared. They had a pool of potential clients waiting; they just needed to activate it.
Manufacturing Momentum
How do you go from designing coupon ads to working with the History Channel and Red Bull? You don't wait for permission. You manufacture your own momentum.
The first step was to address their portfolio problem. The work they had done didn't reflect the work they wanted to do. So, they created it themselves. They began a series of passion projects, designing things for themselves simply because they thought they were cool. This is not about busy work. It is a strategic move to build the exact portfolio a future dream client needs to see. This approach of creating the work you want to be hired for is a cornerstone for anyone looking to accelerate their design career.
They point to designer Matt Stevens and his famous personal project, Good Movies as Old Books. He created over 100 illustrations reimagining popular films as vintage book covers. The project, born from a personal creative exercise, became a sold-out coffee table book and a massive marketing tool. “Almost always when you make something for you to practice a skill,” Jen observes, “people grab onto that.”
The second pillar of their strategy was pure, unadulterated audacity, or “chutzpah.” Back at the coupon magazine, Amy had convinced the editor to give her an interview column. She then proceeded to call the PR representatives for major figures like astronaut Buzz Aldrin and country music legend Merle Haggard. She would state the magazine’s circulation numbers, a respectable 100,000 homes, but wisely chose not to send them a copy of the publication. “We just leveraged the opportunities we had to be the best they could and to kind of get us to that next level,” she says.
This mindset carried directly into their new business. They understood the power of perception. Their makeshift “Hoodzpah HQ” in the living room was carefully photographed from specific angles to look like a legitimate studio on their website. They presented themselves not as two freelancers in a crowded house, but as a professional, “above board operation.”
Their big break didn’t come from a single, massive client. It came through a series of strategic connections and a willingness to take on smaller jobs that led to bigger things.
- The Network Effect: A friend they met at a local creative meetup they started went to work at Asics. After the twins designed a logo for his wife’s ice cream company, he brought them in for a branding project at the global sportswear brand.
- Social Media Visibility: They got a project with Red Bull through a direct message on Instagram after consistently posting work in the surf and moto style, a niche with a strong local presence. They built a reputation by demonstrating their expertise publicly, a key theme in building a powerful personal brand.
- Subcontracting for Credibility: Early on, they subcontracted for larger agencies like 72andSunny. This allowed them to work on projects for brands like the History Channel and Tribeca Film Festival. While they were a vendor, not the lead agency, it gave them the social proof they desperately needed.
“It's amazing how just putting those logos on your logo carousel on your website, people just assume you know what you're doing,” Jen says. This was the turning point. By their third year in business, they were working with international brands. They had successfully closed the gap between their perceived value and their actual skill.
The Agency Crossroads: Scale vs. Expert
With momentum came a new question: what kind of company did they want to be? The default path for a successful agency is growth. Hire more people, take on more clients, and scale the operation. This was the vision they initially had. “When we first started Hoodzpah, we did have the vision of like, oh, we want to be Pentagram,” Jen admits.
But as they began to grow, they realized the role of an agency principal was shifting away from the hands-on creative work they loved and toward management, operations, and HR. This is the classic entrepreneur's dilemma that Do often discusses: you start a business to do the work, only to find that running the business prevents you from doing the work.
They made a conscious decision to reject that model. “We've purposefully stayed small because we want to do the work ourselves,” Jen explains. “We don't want to just pass it off to someone. We're kind of greedy that way.”
This contrasts sharply with the model Chris Do built with Blind, a scaled agency designed to create a legacy that outlasts its founder. “What you built will live long, long after you are gone,” Amy says to Do. “We'll just be that flash in the pan.”
But they are perfectly content with that choice. They re-envisioned their business not as a traditional agency, but as an expert boutique model. They are not selling the output of a large team; they are selling their personal expertise. Clients hire Hoodzpah to get the Hood sisters. This positioning allows them to command higher fees and work on premier projects without the complexities of a large organization.
This reveals a crucial insight for any creative entrepreneur: there are multiple paths to success. You do not have to build a 50-person agency to do meaningful, high-value work. You can work for someone else. You can build a scalable company. Or you can operate as a highly specialized, small, and nimble team of experts. The key is to choose the path that aligns with your personal and professional goals, not the one prescribed by industry tradition.
The Playbook for the Unconventional Path
The Hoodzpah story is not just inspiring; it is a practical roadmap for anyone looking to forge their own creative career, especially those who feel like outsiders. Their journey provides a clear set of actions for moving from an undesirable job to a fulfilling and profitable creative business.
For someone stuck in a “coupon ad” job, dreaming of more, the advice is clear and tactical.
First, recognize the trade-offs. Starting a business is easiest when you are young and have fewer responsibilities. “You never have the freedom like you do when you're young and you don't have maybe a wife or kids or a lot of overhead,” Jen advises. As your life grows more complex and your financial nut increases, the leap becomes exponentially harder.
Their recommended playbook for making the transition includes several key steps:
- Start a Side Hustle: Before you quit your day job, start building a roster of clients on the side. This is the lowest-risk way to prove your business model and see if you even enjoy the work of running a business.
- Build a Financial Runway: Save aggressively. “Try to get three months savings at least,” Jen recommends. This nest egg provides the operating capital to survive the inevitable slow months as you get started. The ability to manage finances is a non-negotiable skill, something often overlooked in creative education but essential for running a sustainable business.
- Embrace a Transition Period: Ideally, work for someone else for two to three years. This allows you to learn the ropes, see how a business operates, and make your early mistakes on someone else’s dime while earning a steady income.
- Verbalize Your Ambition: A woman once told Amy something that stuck with her: “The important thing is not figuring out how you're going to do it. It's just figuring out what you want to do and starting to talk about it with as many people as you can.” The people around you become your connectors, opening doors you could never find on your own.
This final point is perhaps the most powerful. Amy Hood always believed she was destined for big things. While it sounds almost outrageous, Do points out that this self-belief is not arrogance; it is a prerequisite for major achievement. “You need a little bit of that,” he insists. “Once you magnetize yourself to that goal, the means and the methods will appear.”
The story of Hoodzpah is a living testament to that principle. They did not have the conventional resume, the money, or the connections. What they had was a clear vision for their future, the work ethic to grind through the unglamorous stages, and the audacity to act like the agency they wanted to become, long before it was a reality.
Their path proves that the biggest gap for most creatives is not one of skill. It is a gap of confidence and a failure to see that every seemingly menial job is an opportunity to forge the skills and reputation you need for the next level.
You don't need permission. You need a plan and the chutzpah to execute it.
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“The important thing is not figuring out how to do it, it's just figuring out what you want to do.”
— Chris Do
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