Showing posts with label advertising. Show all posts
Showing posts with label advertising. Show all posts

Friday, 15 February 2008

Advertising Vs. Politics (via creativity. via philosophy. via literay criticism. via ramble ramble ramble ramble...)

[WARNING: Despite the funny Karl Marx picture, this post could be quite dull. ]

It happened again to me yesterday. Someone asked me what I do and I told them.

"Ha-oh!" came the reply. "It's you then. You're one of them - the liars."

Yep. The "liars". That's us. Anyone who works in advertsing and marketing is a liar. We sit round on Satan's patio all day, making up evil, insidious fibs with which to poison the dear and innocent earth. Or so is the perception of the hysterical left-wing imbecile who works in my local.

So exactly how does one reconcile a healthy, idealist, proto-Marxist, working class, fuck-the-man politic (such as my own) with the apprently oppressive, totalitarian, globe-raping poltics of 21st century capitalism? Hmmm...

When my career trajectory first began to point towards advertising, I knew that deep-down I was gonna have to face this peculiar moral quandry. How can I work in an industry that appears to contradict everything I beleive in? After all, advertising is propganda, right? It exploits people's weaknesses and questions their judgement. It baffles and confuses them; argues with them and dictates to them. Mass media is garbage, yet I'm volunteering to create more of it. I'm potentially gonna be part of that machine that hectors and heckles us/we/they, the brow-beaten proletariat. Or so goes received opinion.

So I went away and I thought about it. Really thought about it. Pros and cons. Finally, I asked myself why I wanted to do it; what was my motivation. And the answer (not surprisingly) was... creativity. Yawn. I just wanted to be creative. It's that simple. Just like every other fucker these days. But. That then posed a further, even greater philosophical question.

I was placing my own, personal pursuit of creativity and expression above all, which seemed selfish and, well... just a bit shallow. Therefore, I had to ask myself what was my moral reasoning - my position- on creativity? And this was an important point for me to nail because otherwise everything I did potentially lacked any integrity at all.

Eventually, I stumbled across the answer in a novel; the bloated, badly-written, and obnoxious "masterpiece" Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand.

Atlas Shrugged tells the story of what happens when all the creative, innovative people in the world fuck-off to an island and leave civilisation to crumble without them. (Cracking idea for a story, but dragged out over 1500 interminable pages of insufferable dialogue and dry intellectualism. Unless you're unemployed, don't waste your time). Anyway, Rand's novels are all vehicles for her (often flawed) philosophy of Objectivism which champions "competition, creativity and human greatness." And within Objectivism comes a model of capitalism that I'd previously never considered before; a model of consensual capitalism, where free and open competition is the wellspring of excellence. Only via competition can we acheive our potential and only by acheiveing our potential can we evolve.

Ok. So it all sounds a bit Neitzsche. Which, to be fair, it is. But here was capitalism without the master-slave dynamic. Here was capitalism being presented as a dialogue; a constant, on-going debate about new ideas. And so the purpose, the reasoning of creativity was to participate in that debate. And -voila- that's where I found my moral position on creativity and, eventually, my work. Creativity is not necessarily a force for mediating individualsim or celebrating the self. Sure, I can behave like an artist from time to time; heckling and complaining from the sidelines about how things are going, but it's just as exciting to be right there on the pitch. I know it sounds kinda obvious now... but at the time...

So the next time some moron calls you a "sell-out" or even "a liar" just tell them that it's all about competition. If they're not up to the fight, then keep their fuckin mouths shut.

Friday, 1 February 2008

Something positive for a change

I bumped into W+K's new Honda campaign yesterday. (Or was it the day before..? Maybe... I dunno...)


...Anyway, I'm gonna stick my neck out and say -deep breath - I really, really like this.

This is so elegant it makes me sick. Some beautifully executed art-direction (across the whole campaign, actually) that Goldilocks herself would've been proud of (ie. not too hard, not too soft, but juuust right), coupled with an absolutely bullet-proof concept, makes this a blinder. My mate Bobby is well dazzled.

Although I suspect the idea of "problem solving" may have been lifted straight from their breif, it's an undeniably smart piece of work. You may disagree. However, the thing that I really love, and the thing that really interests me about this, is the notion of making the ads problems (albeit very simple ones) in themselves. Being passive isn't an option. Their form requires us to actively participate in them. It's not just an ad anymore. It's an object and an interface; the kind of content usually held back for a website or viral.

I'd love to see more of this kind of thing. In a world where we're all increasingly switching to digital it's good to see something that's playful and engaging that doesn't mean sitting infront of a bloody computer.

(Of course, there's still the obligatory, accompanying web-campaign for all those agoraphobics out there...)

Wednesday, 23 January 2008

When I grow up I want to be... an iconoclast!

ME: Mummy?

MY MUM: Yes, darling.

ME: When I grow up, mummy...

MY MUM: Yes, darling.

ME: What will happen to me, mummy?

MY MUM: Whatever do you mean, darling?

ME: What will happen to me when I'm older?

MY MUM SMILES AT ME. (I'M IMAGINING I'M ABOUT 6 YEARS OLD DURING THIS, BY THE WAY).

MY MUM: Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, darling.

ME: But, I'm frightened, mummy. Petrified in fact. (I HAVE AN EXCELLENT VOCABULARY EVEN BACK THEN)

MY MUM: What of?

ME: The future, mummy. The vast and terrible future. It's so horrid and stifling, mummy. I can't take my mind off it. I'm consumed, mummy. Consumed with doubt and worry. Can't you see the fear in my eyes, mummy?

MY MUM: Oh, Johnny-John-John-John-John, my little yoghurt-pot, there's nothing to worry about at all. Theres nothing to fear. Nothing to fear at all.

ME: But, mummy what will happen to me! I beg you, I emplore you; I order you to tell me!

MY MUM: Well. Exactly the same as happens to all of us. We end up grey and dull, frustrasted and sad. Your dreams are crushed and your potential suffocated. It's very bleak darling, but I assure you it's perfectly natural.

ME: I don't want that to happen to me mummy. I want to be different. I want to be... an iconoclast.

MY MUM: A what?

ME: An iconoclast! I want to smash everything up and start again. Build new things and have new ideas.

MY MUM: Sounds a bit postmodern to me young man. Your father won't like it.

ME: Fuck that shit, mummy!

MY MUM SLAPS ME.

MY MUM: This is heresy, Johnny. Heresy and treason and wrong. Very wrong. Now I want you to go upstairs and start blogging about graphic design or graffiti or brands or adverts you've enjoyed. People have spent a long time establishing these conventions, and you can damn-well go and adhere to them.

I GRUMBLE AND GO TO MY ROOM.

MY MUM: Little shit.