Trust

I’m sitting in a coffeeshop in the middle of Richmond, Virginia.

A few minutes ago, a middle-aged man came up to me outside as I was chaining up my bike. African American. Old sweatshirt. Dirty jeans. Wouldn’t look me in the eye. He tapped me on the shoulder and showed me a small white index card with the following message written in big, block, child-like letters:

HELLO. SMILE.
DEAF MUTE.
TAKING DONATIONS TO GO TO A SCHOOL FOR THE DEAF.
EVERYTHING HELPS.
GOD BLESS YOU.

I looked up at him and used the second-and-a-half of time I had (for my face to follow my eyes’ lead) to size him up.

This man could be lying to me.

But I knew that if I asked him if he was serious, not only would he not answer me, I might offend him by even suggesting he was scamming. So with no options, I did the only thing I could do. I pulled out my wallet. The only thing in there was a 5. I pulled it out—freeze frame in my mind as I thought twice about it—and handed it to him without saying anything.

He pocketed the bill. Without a change of expression in his face, he put his hand to his heart, held out the card again and pointed to the last sentence at the bottom.

GOD BLESS YOU.

Then he walked away.

This was either one of the neediest people I have ever met, or one of the smartest. Either way, he had $5 I was going to use to get a muffin and an iced tea.

Now I’m hungry and drinking tap water. But half of me feels fulfilled.

The other half feels stupid.

dubs. out.

Nike “Fate”

This is the kind of ad that makes little kids want to be nasty athletes.

Or advertising copywriters.

Or both.



Notice the shots of both kids falling back laughing onto their beds at the end. That didn't need to be there. The spot would have worked without it. But the thing that has made Nike advertising so memorable over the years has been the seemingly unnecessary little details like this. To me, that's what separates great work from good.

dubs. out.

Quote of The Week, Parton, 10/12/08

Approach all work with an online state of mind.

-Paul Parton, Brooklyn Brothers

Paul Parton and Guy Barnett, two of the founding partners of the Manhattan-based shop, The Brooklyn Brothers, are neither brothers nor have been to Brooklyn more than twice, but they've managed to put together an agency that was successful enough to open a second office in London several months ago.

After sharing some drinks with them and hearing them speak at our last Friday Speaker Forum, it's clear their 15-man operation is living proof that bigger isn't better. While they might have a trivial name, their philosophy is anything but. And it shows in their work.

I like keeping an eye on small, boutique shops like these. The ones that don't define themselves as advertising or branding or designing agencies-- just creative. They will, in my opinion, define the future of where the best work will be done. In many cases, it's where it's already happening.









dubs. out.

Vote. For the love of God.

dubs. out.

Care

I love making ads. It sounds ridiculous. But I really do.

There’s always that feeling of starting out without any clue. That momentary panic when you’re given an assignment. That ‘oh, shit’ minute.

‘This is it,’ you silently say. ‘This is where everyone’s going to realize the true hack I know I’ve always been. Where the genius I will never become will finally—and thankfully—be exposed.’

But part of you thinks something else.

Part of you thinks about what you could do. The anticipation of doing what’s been done by no one before you and conceivably, by no one after you.

And that’s the part I love.

Could this be the one that defines my career? The one that people will see and get excited about and remember and love? Could this be the one that inspires someone to do something they’ve always wanted to do and never have? Buy a product they’ve never bought that will change their life? Get involved in a cause they’ve always felt strongly about and never realized?

Could this be the one that makes someone see some aspect about the world in an entirely new and different and amazingly optimistic way that makes him or her think, ‘Man, that is so right on. That’s how I see things, too. I just never knew it.’

I love how advertising makes the mundane seem extraordinary. How it forces you to see the wonder in literally everything that exists. This wonder can make train transport remarkable, multivitamins incredible, insurance unbelievable.

I love that there’s a certain amount of fear in this business. But I love even more the pride. Because pride is where the fear comes from. It’s worth more than the money and the fame and the toys. It can’t be shown off on your wrist or backed out of a garage or sipped from a glass.

Pride is what keeps you working two days straight not because of a paycheck or a promotion or an awards show, but because you truly want to make it great for no one but you. It’s knowing you’ve figured out and created something no one out of 6 billion ever could.

It’s someone coming up to you and telling you your work touched them. I can’t say I’ve ever experienced what that feels like, but I know this much.

It's worth caring about.

dubs. out.

NewRack

Got this from a friend of a friend. Who I suppose is now a friend.


Wish I thought of this.

dubs. out.

Quote of The Week, Riswold– 10/5/08

Most advertising strives for nothing more than to be ‘not wrong.’

-Jim Riswold, former CD, Wieden + Kennedy

Jim Riswold, in the words of Mark Fenske, "is the greatest American copywriter alive today." Three years ago, after being diagnosed with leukemia, he had a low chance of still being alive.

But on Monday at noon, students at the VCU Brandcenter got to see him in the flesh to hear him speak about triumphing over that tribulation. A few of us went out for drinks with him and Fenske the night before, and it was an amazing experience to say the least. Halfway through the night, while I was urinating my second beer, I remember looking at the wall in front of me and letting it finally hit me. I was having drinks with the man who made Nike Nike, the one brand that is undisputably put on a pedestal by every single ad professor I've ever had, almost to the point of annoyance. He was the unveiler of the most famous tagline ever created, and the inventor of postmodern advertising, which even the inventor himself doesn't know "what the fuck that is."

Riswold created the Mars Blackmon campaign, Charles Barkley's "I Am Not a Role Model," a bunch of Tiger Woods commercials, including "I am Tiger Woods" and "Hello World," the "Bo Knows" campaign, and a slew of MJ spots, to name just a few.

Most of the people sitting at that table, at one time or another, had a Nike poster taped up in their room that he wrote. We grew up amidst what this guy spewed from his brilliant brain. What spewed from his brilliant brain influenced us, and most likely contributed to why many of us were in ad school to begin with.

But that's another blog post entirely.







After being diagnosed with leukemia, having worked at Wieden for more than 20 years, working amongst, under and over some of the best creatives in the entire world, he decided to retire to follow his other passion: creating, in his words, "bad art." It's controversial and tasteless and hilarious and sensational and genius all wrapped together. He's truly one of a kind, and I feel honored to have met him.

To see is work, visit Jim Riswold Dot Com. And turn up the volume on your computer speakers.

dubs. out.,