If you’ve ever walked past a crack in the sidewalk and thought it looked a bit like a canyon, Michael Pederson is the artist currently validating your inner child. Pederson specializes in "urban interventions", which apparently means tiny, handcrafted installations that turn the mundane infrastructure of a city into a playground for the observant. We’re talking about a seven-centimeter-tall peak dubbed “Mount Paltry” perched on a concrete ledge, or miniature ladders scaling the stems of weeds as if they were ancient redwoods. Since 2013, he’s been quietly reinterpreting the "accidents" of the urban landscape, placing tiny signs and structures in gaps in walls or near overgrown patches of grass to remind us that even the most neglected corner of a parking lot has narrative potential.

There is something refreshing about art that doesn't require a gallery pass or a QR code to experience, especially in an era where "immersive" usually just means "we bought a lot of projectors." Pederson’s work acts as a sort of analog augmented reality, layering humor and wonder over the grey reality of city life without the need for a headset. It’s a gentle nudge to look down from our screens and notice the "coincidences" of the physical world. Just try not to step on any world-class peaks on your way to get coffee; the local mountaineers (the ants) would never forgive you.

There is a specific, cold sweat that breaks out when you realize your toddler is silent, stationary, and turning a very distinct shade of crimson while sitting on your favorite light-colored armchair. Huggies is leaning directly into that visceral parental terror with their "Expensive Sh*t" campaign. In a high-stakes livestream, 18 just-fed babies (hand-picked for their "impressive digestive capabilities") were set loose to crawl across nearly half a million dollars worth of luxury goods. That includes $89k Turkish rugs, vintage collectibles, and designer upholstery, with nothing but a single "Little Snugglers" diaper standing between a masterpiece and a biological catastrophe.

As a dad of two, I can confirm that the transition from "person with nice things" to "person who owns a high-powered steam cleaner" happens in the blink of an eye. We bought most of our furniture in that blissful, naive era before we realized a single infant has the destructive output of a small natural disaster. From a brand perspective, it’s the ultimate "skin in the game" maneuver. By highlighting the absurdity of modern parenting Huggies has turned a boring commodity into essential tactical gear. It turns out the most expensive thing in your house isn't the rug; it’s the peace of mind that comes with knowing you won't be spending your Saturday afternoon scrubbing "abstract art" out of the fibers.

Locals strolling along London’s South Bank have recently encountered a public monument that looks like a Renaissance fountain having a very bad day. Created by Channel 4 to promote their new factual drama Dirty Business, the "Fountain of Filth" is a 10-metre-wide installation where bronze-like statues of surfers and swimmers aren't just lounging - they are actively vomiting murky brown water. It’s a visceral, nauseating representation of the real-life sewage crisis currently plaguing Britain’s waterways. To drive the point home, the statues were 3D-scanned from actual people who’ve fallen ill from polluted water, all while a suit-clad executive stands at the peak with a briefcase overflowing with cash. It’s the kind of "guerrilla marketing" that makes you want to wash your hands immediately after looking at it.

While we usually look to TV marketing for glossy billboards or catchy trailers, Channel 4 is using discomfort to fuel a national conversation. By taking the classic, dignified imagery of a public fountain and filling it with metaphorical (and literal-looking) filth, the campaign forces a "hidden" infrastructure failure into the daylight. It’s effective, provocative, and deeply gross; exactly the kind of thing that makes you rethink that "refreshing" wild swim you had planned for the weekend.

Agencies are notoriously cagey about their capabilities decks, usually treating them like a secret recipe only revealed in the dim light of a boardroom pitch. I’ve decided to run a little experiment and air out Dawn’s full capabilities deck publicly: exactly what a prospective client sees, from our methodology to our lens on the work. Take it, remix it, or shred it.