Monday, November 19, 2012

The impossibility of advertising.


Suit: I want results,
it’s what I am tailored for.
The pinstripes impress
consistency and routine;
the arm hole is snug
to allow arms a swing;
the trousers cut slim
to guide the knees; 
and I stride forward, 
progressing directly 
with hardly a break
to my goal
and my goal after that.
My achievements 
will
be 
linear
like kissing buttons.


Sneakers: We wanna play
and run,
because to get there,
we have to go
and just know
before we know why,
chasing a notion
wherever it takes us,
down side walks
and side streets.
Goals?
Creativity isn’t a goal–
we’ve got a good feeling though,
up in the air.
Creativity is activity
for good soles
a pivot point,
a toe spring...


Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Lemons and peaches.


  Lately I’ve noticed the dearth of ads that pose strong, compelling arguments. I have a problem with that, because I think it’s a big part of what we get paid to create. I also think that arguments can be made creatively, which is to say that a good strong one will sell product. I’m not talking about something that reads like a lawyer’s proof. I’m talking about a whole argument that doesn't feel like a whole argument. In fact, we may not see the whole argument but it’s there. It’s there, but not there. Because with the right execution, any missing link ends up being conjured up.

  When I was a kid, this was essentially how my dad would persuade me to do chores around the house. He rarely posed the entire argument. A simple order – “Clean the garage, Marty,” stated in a certain tone, and it was all clear: ‘If you don’t clean the garage, then you will become dead meat.’ My Dad understood the finer points of rhetoric.

  Let’s take a little ad you may have seen once or twice, a really succinct ad, and one that both leaves plenty to the imagination and epitomizes creativity: the Volkswagen “Lemon” ad. Though there is only a product shot and a one-word headline, the syllogism, or what Aristotle called an enthymeme, is complete. There are premises that present facts, or accepted opinions, and a simple deduction is made. And it is far from random:

If a car that looks absolutely perfect in the factory is said to be flawed, because there are 3,389 inspectors and they can detect shortcomings that the average person can't see, then those engineers must be really anal retentive Germans and the Beetle I buy won’t be a lemon at all – it’ll be a peach.

  With the right creativity, a complete argument can be made. I think some of us have forgotten that (there are plenty who don’t know it, but that’s a whole other problem).

  For instance, in the name of sparking conversations, because it’s all about the conversation now – right? ­– we may create a lot of chit chat but the argument is often left incomplete. And sometimes we make it all about a higher order benefit and present an argument that is ultimately unfounded. Do we think persuasion is impossible? Are we afraid consumers will think we’re too pushy? Did we ever think that maybe the creative doesn’t leave out the right things? Could it be that the creative isn’t really creative? All I know is that we still need to seal the deal. Even if parts of the argument are given out piecemeal, in different media.

  Of course, that presumes we are still in the business of persuasion.