Marco Prestini is an award-winning creative and the newest talent signed to Ocurens. Renowned for his rare ability to tell powerful stories across any market—from high fashion to premium car brands to celebrated music videos—Marco’s work uncovers the extraordinary within the everyday.
His collaborations with brands like Biotherm, Zalando, BMW, Uniqlo, and Hugo Boss, as well as his direction of Tierra Whack’s acclaimed “Mumbo Jumbo,” capture surreal, unforgettable moments that resonate on a profound level.
Known for his bold, introspective style, Marco defies convention, bringing each project a distinctive and boundary-pushing identity.
In this interview, Marco delves into his creative journey, the inspiration behind his unique style, and the process that brings his vision to life.
Location: Milan
Reps: Anonymous Content(USA), Division Global (FR/AU), Ocurens (UK), Akkurat (DE), Landia (Central & South America/SP).
Marco> I’ve always been very interested in concepts and ways to communicate meanings through self expression. That’s what I look for in advertising and what excites me most in the work of others. I might be nostalgic, but if you ask me what excites me most about advertising today, I’d choose the past rather than the present.
Growing up, I was blown away by the ground-breaking work of visionary directors like Chris Cunningham, Jonathan Glazer, Frank Budgen, David Fincher, Tarsem Singh, and Spike Jonze. Their work was, in my mind, the culmination of a form of art: imagination paired with innovation and execution at the highest level.
Perhaps I’m too romantic, or just naïve, but I like to think that these guys were able to accomplish what they did because, at the time, they weren’t following any predetermined formula and every new idea was a giant leap into the unknown. This, in turn, led to results that felt unlike anything else—audacious and completely unhinged. Work that is not just authentic, but immortal.
Marco> I like scripts that are trying to be out there, at the edge of things, pushing boundaries. I’m drawn to ideas that come with an opportunity to express aspects of myself or capture something distinctive. I don’t mind whether it’s muscular, emotional, bizarre, or subtle; all that matters to me is that there’s an authentic thought, sentiment, or concept in place.
Sometimes, the creative opportunity is self-apparent, which means many directors will have their eyes on it. I generally prefer when the potential is concealed and not immediately obvious. At that moment, I know that the script is resonating with me on a deeper level, and I can try to extract something personal from it.
Well-crafted projects are so draining and demanding of myself that I need to believe what I’m doing has the potential to say something, or arrive somewhere new. In order to perform, I need to love and believe in what I’m doing.
The best briefs I’ve had the pleasure of receiving or reading were generally two to five pages long. In fact, the very best script I ever received was just one paragraph with no images, and I respect that because we shouldn’t be afraid of brevity. It takes intelligence and effort to calibrate a concept’s potential into a few sentences and, to me, that is creativity.
Marco> Every treatment is, well, different and requires a unique approach, but the mindset is always the same: get away from the average and find a means to end up with something bigger than what you started with—whatever “bigger” means to you as long as it means something.
What you have in front of you might not be your own conception, but you are the one who has been asked to carry and deliver it—this baby image is trite as hell, but please bear with me. So this glut of words and images flashing on your screen needs to become your beautiful baby now, and the only true way to make it your own is to fall in love with it—that’s how it works for me, at least.
By the time the script pops up in your inbox, it has already been tamed and domesticated by many hands. It feels generic, like it doesn’t belong to you, so how do you fall in love?
You need to look for the wild animal, so you simply sit down and start digging. You bulldoze your way into the script and strip the idea naked. You want to understand how it moves, how it ticks, how it functions, and what it means. Then, you must dig even deeper to figure out in what ways this idea speaks to you. It’s only by digging that you can get to the essence of what it really is that you’re trying to make.
Only once you’ve found something authentic to latch onto can you start mining and building it up again. This process can happen very quickly, but it usually takes time and effort. The key is that what you’re trying to build is not just a script, but a line of thought that will guide the reader through your decisions. You want this line to be crystal clear and unattackable, because it’s your first and last line of defence when challenges arise, as they inevitably will.
Marco> All kinds of relationships are important, especially for a director. The nature of the job is communicative. We rely on other people’s talent and expertise, therefore it’s never really about a person, or a small team, but the whole. A successful team thinks, reacts, suffers, and advances as a whole.
I believe in synergies, and my approach is holistic. Before making any decision, I always like to ask for everyone’s opinion. As a director, my goal is not to provide answers, but to surround myself with people to whom I can ask the right questions. Sometimes, the solution to an art department issue might come from the makeup artist, the stunt coordinator, or even the person driving the van to the set. All you need to do is ask and listen, but this is only possible when the entire team feels fully involved and therefore invested in your vision.
There are many kinds of directors out there. Some can be more technical or hands-on than others, and everyone has their own recipe for how they approach sets. I may not know much—certainly not as much as I’d like—about lighting, gear, or software, but I know what I want and I know it clearly. This is the talent I’ve learned to recognise in myself, and I have invested a great deal of my life in learning better ways to express and communicate my ideas to others.
Building relationships and facilitating communication are at the heart of my role.
Marco> I’ve already expressed my appetite for strong concepts and ideas, perhaps what you would call “high-concepts” for lack of better word, but what I’m most passionate about are the projects that also come with a challenge and an opportunity to push my line of work into new directions, may that be technical, emotional, or intellectual. Like I said earlier, in order to perform, I need to fall in love with what I’m doing, and I love the feeling of making something different. Oblique. Singular.
I don’t care much about genre, and I’ve grown sceptical about style. I seek out work that makes me react and allows me to elicit a reaction from others. This really comes down to vision and finding ways to view something from a place in time that truly belongs to you.
Advertising communication is about connecting with the masses, but it’s only by creating something truly personal that it becomes authentic and universal. This is another cliché we shouldn’t superficially shy away from, because it’s fundamentally true and took me some effort to fully understand.
Marco> The biggest challenge for a commercial director is to avoid repetition. The problem I often encounter in advertising is that, amidst the ever-growing pool of talent, directors are often perceived as what they appear to be, rather than who they really are, or who they could become.
Ironically, the type of work I’m truly passionate about—the kind I genuinely connect with—is the one I’m not considered for because I don’t have the reel for it. That’s perhaps the biggest misconception about me, paradoxically born from my own choices.
I spend most of my private life reading classic literature and watching slow cinema, and as much as I’d love to tell bigger stories, delve in characters, and bring depth to my practice, my line of work grew to become collectively recognised as highly stylised and purely visual.
It’s tricky to render stories and characters when most of the opportunities you’re given consist of unpacking highly complex or contrived visual ideas that require a great deal of VFX. In the end, maybe it’s the tension inside me that’s shaped my vision into a certain style.
Marco> In my experience, I came late to the realisation that the most challenging problems aren’t the crazy ones, but the small hesitations and tiny hiccups from misunderstandings; the little oversights, the hurry, the moments of laziness, and the automatisms that creep in when the process becomes long and initial momentum fades. It’s in these small moments that the project suffers, as it’s at its weakest and in need of defence.
Marco> That’s a really good question, and I don't have a straight answer. Everyone will tell you it’s crucial to know which battles are worth fighting and when it’s wiser to yield.
It really comes down to common sense, experience, and becoming accustomed to leadership. Being a leader means caring more than anyone else. When you care, the people around you feel it and place their trust in you. Trust, inclusion, and mutual respect will always be your first and last lines of defence against any kind of creative assaults.
As far as I’m concerned, I’ve always been a fighter because I believe in artistic conviction. However, with time, I’ve learnt that protecting the idea doesn’t mean so much to fight, but to persevere. It is only by perseverance that you protect the idea. To persist. To endure.
Marco> Embracing diversity in productions is not just good but necessary. However, it must be approached with both merit and competence.
When it comes to mentoring, I’m not sure whether I’d be a good teacher, but if the opportunity came along, I’d welcome the experience. I wish I had a mentor myself.