I'm Michiel — creative from Amsterdam. I pitch marketing concepts, perform improv on actual stages, and tinker with AI like an enthusiastic amateur. The honest kind.
Scroll — Mikey the dot-alien will followConcepting is the fun part. The braver part is putting the idea in front of people and seeing if it survives.
Amsterdam's playground for young creative talent: real briefings from real brands, a couple of weeks to crack them, then pitch the concept to the people who actually decide. The best kind of pressure — and the fastest way I know to sharpen an idea.
From insight to big idea to "okay, but how would this actually look on a Tuesday?" I like marketing that feels human — work people would choose to watch, not skip. Allergic to buzzwords; fluent in them anyway, for survival purposes.
I'm not an AI pro and I won't pretend to be one. I'm the person who duct-tapes AI into creative projects to see what happens — prompts, little tools, generated nonsense that occasionally turns out brilliant. Curiosity first, jargon never.
Side projects are ideas without a steering committee. Some are satire. All of them actually exist.
Strava, but for the pub. Segments, personal records and kudos — for rounds. A loving parody of tracking-app culture that asks: what if we gamified the wrong thing, on purpose, beautifully?
A pub-crawl game where you buy pubs by winning games and collect rent from friends who land there. Board game economics meets a Saturday night out. Field testing is the best part of the job.
Websites, songs, videos, apps — I build them myself, with AI as my toolkit. No waiting for a developer, a studio or a budget: the moment an idea sparks, I take it from my head to an (almost) working concept. That freedom is the whole point.
A movie-night picker that knows you're tired. A health dashboard because my watch knew more about me than I did. Small builds, made with AI assistance and stubbornness, to scratch very specific itches.
Improv comedy is my favourite classroom. On stage there's no script, no second take and no hiding — just "yes, and" your way forward with whatever the scene gives you. Turns out that's also the best training there is for pitching, brainstorms, and life in general.
The same instinct took me across four continents — months through Australia, New Zealand, Vietnam and Thailand, collecting the kind of stories that never fit on a slide. Travel and improv are the same skill: say yes, see what happens, make it work.
What ties it all together: I like making things with people. Scenes, concepts, games, songs. Ideas are cheap — the fun is finding out if they survive contact with an audience.