Monthly Archives: May 2013

This blog is moving. This is my last post here. Gonna miss this place! SNIFF!!!

photo-6in line with our seemingly eternal website redesign, this blog’s address has to change.

the new web address is See you there.

RSS reader users should use this link to continue their intake of blog magic, or blogic if I may.
And just in case, here it is another way:

i know it’s a lot to take in all of sudden. have a drink. take it easy.

Same insightful thoughts and immaculate prose, great new location!

Escape Pod creates its first skateboard

My son, god bless him, asked for a skateboard for his birthday. No problem there.

The only thing was he specified that it have a Scottish terrier graphic. Big problem. Perhaps not unsurprisingly, there is a distinct lack of Scottish terrier emblazoned skateboards out there.

So I asked Escape Pod designer/artist Dana Krystofiak to mock one up. And what I imagined would be quick photoshoppery and bingo, we’re done.

Instead, she drew and painted this epic masterpiece.

Never mind my son, I want one!

Thanks Dana.


Sir Hegarty nails it again

Ever since he’s retired, John Hegarty has really been letting adland have it with both barrels and calling bullshit on an industry that is even more awash with bullshit than it ever has been. And that’s saying something.

Adland’s decade-long desire to appear like it “gets digital” has led to the most spectacular wastes of time and money. Desperate to appear cool and techy, advertising has wallowed in widgets and digital doodads for far too long now.

It’s been mostly a mirage. People care even less about advertising online. It just doesn’t belong there. Simple as that.

When will advertising people wake up and realize that we are in the business of moving people closer to purchasing the brands we advertise? It can’t come too soon. They should listen to Sir Hegarty. Got this from a Canadian marketing mag btw. They promise more Hegaliciousness soon.

What’s wrong with advertising today?

My theory about it is—and this is not just my opinion—there is empirical evidence from the audience we talked to that they feel the quality of what we are producing has declined. You can look back in history and you can see the same thing, when you have a significant piece of technology, a particular development like digital, what happens is there’s a sort of creative deficit as we deal with it. We’ve certainly had that for the last 10 or 12 years. I think we’re sort of getting out of that now.

Because nobody knows quite what to do with it, we become obsessed with the technology, so technologists rule the airwaves. And it isn’t until creative people begin to work it out and say ‘What you actually can do with it is this.’

Look at the Lumière brothers who invented cinema but didn’t know they had invented cinema; they invented a moving camera. It took another 15 or 20 years before somebody worked out you could write stories and film them. They, in fact, gave up on it. And Les Paul, the creator of the electric guitar, he didn’t make rock and roll. He was a technologist.

So the deficit in quality isn’t about a lack of talent?
Nobody is to blame; it’s just a reality, it’s what happens. I think we lose confidence in things, we lose confidence in other media because all of a sudden people go, ‘Well, television is dead and it’s all over’ and ‘Print is dead and posters don’t matter anymore’ and all that sort of rubbish. And the focus, the concentration goes into this new medium until we work out what it’s delivering.

Has the industry started to eliminate this deficit?
I do think there’s the beginning of the reality [where we are recognizing] what digital technology can and can’t deliver. But people rush into these technologies without really understanding what they’re delivering, how they’re delivering, because they think it’s the new cool thing to do and if you’re not doing it, you’re kind of dead and old fashioned. Rather than saying, ‘What is it delivering? Can we measure what it delivers? Do we have any understanding of what it delivers? Do we understand how it’s going to work for us?’ none of that comes into force. So you have this focus away from things that we know have value, to things that we don’t know how to value.

And one of the other problems I have today is people have retreated to the edges of advertising. You know, they’re happy to do some small little campaign somewhere or they’re doing something on the net that hardly anybody sees and they’re getting awards for it and everybody’s cheering. But they’re not changing the way people feel or think.

My first shoot

I recently came across this lovely idea. It’s a forum for directors (and creatives, i think) to talk about their very first shoot.

My old partner turned Hollywood director Justin Reardon was profiled in it recently.

I love ideas like this. I love stealing from the hard-won wisdom of others. And I really don’t care what the topic is.

One of my all time favorite things to listen to is a podcast with songwriter Stephen Sondheim talking about crafting Broadway musicals. He is just such a natural at it, yet he struggles so much. Being a protege of Oscar Hammerstein really paid off. And meeting Hal Prince was a real meeting of equals, wasn’t it? Their collaborations, coupled with Hal’s directorial vision and gift for epic musical theater, are surely his finest hours.

Sounds like I know a lot about Broadway musicals, doesn’t it? I don’t. I’ve just completely ingested and absorbed everything he said. I find the experiences of others so fascinating.

So, without being invited to contribute, I thought I would give an account of my first shoot.

My first shoot was about as big as a first shoot could be.

It was a two-spot package for Bud Light in the mid 90s. This was back when the Bud Light brand was galloping away from its competitors and the advertising was clearly fueling this growth. Consequently the brewery was pumping lots of money into the production of TV ads. This was the Seinfeld era. The truly golden age of TV advertising. Internet? Never heard of it. If a spot came in under half a million bucks, it was considered a frugal shoot.

I was aiming for a big hit spot with this one and I got it. I had come the USA in 1990 and I knew from TV that Americans love slapstick. So I came up with an epic slapstick spot. A guy chasing after his departing girlfriend runs onto a steam train platform and tries to woo her back. He communicates with her via hastily scribbled notes that he holds up to the train window as the train pulls out of the station and then smacks into a pole. The spot was rather imaginatively titled “POLE!”.

It was directed by a Canadian director named Steve Chase who was then in favor at the brewery for his comedic flair. I told Steve that my vision for this was the Road Runner meets Dr. Zhivago.

Steve had a great idea. Film it at night. When steam trains look their most dramatic.

No expense was spared. We rented out the Sacramento rail museum for two nights. We even had these amazing movie lights that bathed the whole scene in moonlight from miles away. They were huge.

I learned on this shoot that you have to stick to your guns. A couple of times Steve tried to strong arm me into things I didn’t feel were right. And I wouldn’t budge. Looking back, that was pretty ballsy. But I instinctively understood story and nuance. And, hey, it was my f**king idea and I was willing to go down in flames for it. That was a good instinct too.

The spot was voted best beer spot of the year by Ad Age magazine. But more importantly it debuted to thunderous applause at the Anheuser-Busch distributor convention before it went on TV. Everybody loved this aggressively stupid spot.

I remember being in a sports bar full of NCAA basketball fans and seeing everyone in the bar actually applaud the spot. They spontaneously clapped for a commercial! My commercial. If it could have gone viral, it would have.

This was like smoking crack for me. I wanted this feeling again!