Yes — our ads are a little creepy. Because sometimes we don't move unless we're scared.
But this is horror as healing — which, if we're honest, can be even scarier. Because healing means looking at what we've been hiding.
The vines in our campaign are beautiful at first. They always are. That's how it works — with anger, with shame, with silence. It feels like protection until it becomes constriction. We don't know we're being held until we try to move.
We made a film about a family that couldn't outrun what they'd buried. And then we realized — neither can any of us.
Our campaign opens on connection — vines growing between people, weaving through families. Beautiful. Alive. Then, slowly, the vines begin to pull. To constrict. The protagonist doesn't notice until it's almost too late.
The spot fades before the ending resolves. Because that's the point. We don't know we're being held until we try to move.
It ends on this: Secrets don't die — they become families.
TornTies.com
Handwoven in Oaxaca, Mexico by the women whose story inspired the film. Now completing the circle — carrying the hummingbird and the jaguar, and at each end, small dolls — both cool and a bit creepy.
You receive three. One for yourself — maybe you need to reconnect to your own heart. Two to give — think of anyone where your ties are torn, or frayed, or thinning.
Tie them in person if you can. The ritual can be powerful. If it feels right, share why their tie matters, where you might have slipped, how you would like to fix things.
We partnered with an extraordinary woman who lived with the weavers in Oaxaca — and then went on to earn her PhD in trauma healing and systems.
Her life's work is the science beneath this movement. Every system — every family, community, country — is impacted by unhealed trauma. It spreads the way secrets spread. Quietly. Generationally. Through the people who never knew they were carrying it.
The journey back begins one thread at a time.
What began as research in the mountains of Oaxaca — watching women weave, listening to stories passed down through hands — became a framework for understanding how pain travels through families, institutions, and generations.
The bracelets are an artifact of that understanding. The hummingbird and the jaguar are not decoration. They are a practice — a reminder that we need both the light and the courage to walk into darkness if we want to heal.
We will share more about our partner and her work as this movement grows. For now — the bracelets carry her intention. Every thread does.
The film is made in Puerto Rico — a place that holds two worlds at once. There is a kind of wisdom in that. Our traumas ask the same of us — to hold what we've tried to separate. Until we embrace both our shadow and our light, we can never share our deepest gifts with the world. This happens with people, companies, and cultures.
TIES is a supernatural family drama set in a single house in the hills of Puerto Rico. When an aging patriarch nears death, his family assembles — and the house begins to surface everything they have buried: grief, shame, rejection, rage, and the secrets passed silently from one generation to the next.
Guided by an eight-year-old girl who can see what the adults cannot, the family confronts the truth that trauma doesn't disappear — it spreads. Through children. Through silence. Through the bodies of people who never knew they were carrying it.
Written by Morgan Styler. Directed by Lorraine Jones Molina & Christian Carretero. John Cassavetes Award Winners 2026. Tribeca 2025.