Tuesday, February 14, 2006

It's February. Time to let Mr. Wacko in.

Dear Students,

By this point in the term you're up to your necks in briefs.
(for the benefit of any non-ad-agency folks who've ducked into this website, a "brief" in this context isn't underwear, but a one-page summation of what an advertiser is hoping the ad campaign his agency creates will accomplish)
There's plenty that can be said about the value and the lack of value contained in the average ad agency brief.
I don't aim here to get into that.
My focus is more narrow.

I'm concerned that you may make the mistake of thinking that work which "answers the client's problem" as written in the brief is work that has done the job of advertising and is therefore good work.
Negatory on that, rubber duck.
Answering the client's problem is only part of the job a good ad does, and not at all the most important part (more about that later).

Good advertising forms a connection between speaker and audience, between advertiser and people, that human beings enter into willingly, even hopefully at times.
Merely broadcasting the aim of your client into the eardrums and eye sockets of your brothers and sisters is neither the aim of good advertising nor an effective way to positively influence sales of the client's product.
Half a connection isn't a connection.

Here's where you need to summon Mister Wacko.

What catches your eye when you walk around?
To what are you drawn on television/in grocery stores/art galleries/music?
Me, I want something I don't already know.
My eyes want to feast on a sight they've never seen before.
Ears too. And smell and touch and taste.
They all want in on the new.
You're the same, and so are all the people on earth.

If all you care about is the client, that's who will listen.
Care about the audience sitting out there more than the client and you'll have a chance at connecting with that audience.
Don't, and you're a shill, that's all.

Answer the client's need only and you'll have something nobody wants to listen to except the client--and even he will only do it because he feels he has to.

Answer the audience's need only and you've got something people will at least watch/read/listen to.
--But if the client's logo at the end doesn't form a palpable connection or bring to the audience anything they care about or didn't already know you'll have interrupted their life under the promise of having something to say, but not come through. Audiences tire of that. However, your work at least won't leave the audience with the sense they're impotent sheep who can be ordered about at the whim of big advertisers, as most advertising does.

Answer the client's need as well as the audience's and you've got a chance at great work.
It takes magic, ludicrousy, fancy, blind-flying & something hidden from probably 99.7% of the people on earth to bring an audience what they don't know.
It takes Mr. Wacko.
A willingness to love what it makes no sense to. A penchant, sometimes, for turning an exact circle away from what everybody arounds you says is true and going in the opposite direction.
These are crucial willingnesses, not something you can allow yourself to be afraid of or talked out of by the normal people around you.
Of course, in addition to letting Mr. Wacko in, you've got to not lose the simple, common sense of what everybody does know & feel & trust in as they walk around.
Takes both.
It's hard to make a connection between people wanting different things and to make that connection under the pressure of a deadline, why are we surprised it should take a madman?

How do you do it?
I come back to this admonition so often you must be tired of hearing it. It's true anyway.
Do your work in a book
Carry it where you go.
Keep in it not only what you make but fill it with samples of what weirdnesses reach out to you.
Get used to letting what calls to you inform & lead & infect what you do.
Isn't there enough normal in the world already?

9 Comments:

Ike said...

Great googledy-moodledy. What a killer closing line. Yup.

Monday, 27 February, 2006  
Anonymous said...

thank you sir

Tuesday, 28 February, 2006  
jimmiejo said...

Fantastic post Mark. I luckily caught mention of it from the boys at American Copywriter.

You should put an rss feed on your site so we don't miss these golden insights. It's not tough to do. You can drop me an e-mail, if you'd like, and I can walk you through it in a couple of minutes. jimmiejo(at)gmail(dot)com.

Wednesday, 01 March, 2006  
Mr. Wacko said...

If you let me in, I'll take over your soul little by little, until your are a confused and twisted human being. I'll make you question your grip on reality and there's a good chance you'll start going back to church.
Ask me into your heart.

Thursday, 02 March, 2006  
Colin said...

I am printing this out and nailing it to our agency's door. Is that okay?

Thursday, 02 March, 2006  
Fenske said...

Nailing something to a door isn't an act for which you ask permission.

ps. to Jimmiejo: i appreciate the thought, but wouldn't an rss feed remove the moment of choice from the reader and give it to a computer? what fun is that? Thanks though for the offer.

Thursday, 02 March, 2006  
Anonymous said...

Nailing something isn't an act for which you ask permission.

ps. to ifeelfresh: i don't appreciate the thought, but the subject is Mr. Wacko not Mr. Wack. Have fun with that. No thanks though for the offer.

Wednesday, 08 March, 2006  
The general said...

"Good advertising" is an oxymoron.

Maybe it wasn't 20 years ago but times have changed and along with it the need for advertising. (Notice: changed, not ended.)

Twenty years ago we had limited access to the things we wanted and needed and it helped to have someone cleverly interupt us with direction.

When you think of it, advertising is an alarm. The intent is to get me to stop thinking about what I was thinking about and think about something else. And if it is really good, it will get me to do something else.

In 1960 when there were three tv networks, a few radio stations and a local paper, advertising wasn't alarming.

Now we can find whatever we want or need without being alarmed. In fact, most of us have developed a refined sense for shutting out ALL alarms. Literally. Like when a a stranger's car alarm goes off. IF we respond, it is only to try to turn it off, not to try and deter some potential crime.

213 emails a day are alarms.
my cell phone ringing anytime, any where I am is alarming.
400 signs inside a stadium are alarming.

Enough with alarms already.

We don't want "new" "exciting" "the next" anything!

We want quiet. Comfort. Friends. Neighbors. Just... maybe... ONE thing to stay the same for longer than five minutes.

Does the word "tradition" have any meaning on your planet?

WE DON'T WANT TO BE ALARMED!!!

We want you to watch. And to REALLY listen. TO US. You advertising people are so full of yourselves you don't see (maybe you can't see - and that is why you do advertising) what is going on around you.

Screw the rest of the world.

Look at the person walking down the street. Sit in an airport hub while the flights are changing and watch people walk by for an hour and ask yourself how many of them would you really care to listen to. If the answer is larger than zero, apologize for lying.

Don't alarm us. Come along side us. Fit in. Make comfort. Integrate. Make sense.

And before you say this is all trash try three things:

1. Read this. Really read it. Walk a few steps in the shoes of those who have to suffer your "work."

2. Let it live on your blog.

3. Respond to it.

If, having done that, you are unchanged... well then maybe you should go visit some other country. Preferably one without humans or one stuck somewhere in the 60's.

Thursday, 20 April, 2006  
jimmiejo said...

I completely forgot about this post. Probably because you don't have an RSS feed! But I already mentioned that, and your stubborn ad gawdliness declined my offer.

But being an RSS-a-holic, I just came across a site that solves your, or more so my, problem.

Here's your RSS feed. Done, done, and done.

http://www.ponyfish.com/feeds/895DmmIAtwF

Thank you Ponyfish, and the time lapse I call memory.

Thursday, 04 May, 2006  

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