I’ve always subscribed to the view taking what you do seriously, doesn’t mean you have to take yourself seriously.
Not because it justifies my ‘immaturity tendencies’ [though that helps] but because the act of creativity – commercial or otherwise – requires the ability to be silly, stupid and open to the unlikely or ridiculous.
Not because creativity is superficial, but because it enables the possibilities of it.
For new ideas.
For new perspectives.
For new considerations.
For new collaborations.
For new connections.
For new thinking.
Some don’t get this, because they see creativity as a ‘wrapper’ that can be applied at will to whatever they want.
They tend to be the same people who view the creative process as one big ‘inefficiency’, without realising those ‘inefficiencies’ are the very things that can lead to the magic they seek.
This is not entirely their fault, because – let’s be honest – our industry often doesn’t invite them to be a part of it.
But then, by the same token, you can’t blame them when there is often a reluctance to value that process so it ends up being a hinderance.
It’s why I do find Colenso quite the anomaly.
For 5 decades they’ve been pulling off the ridiculous and impossible.
Put simply, Colenso has always been about using creativity to solve problems, rather than create advertising to promote the problem – it’s one of the reasons I revered them long before I joined them – and a big reason for how they have been able to do that is their appreciation of the commercial value of happy accidents.
Not holding things so tightly you can’t let other things in.
Not being so precious you won’t share your thoughts with others.
Not being so locked down it’s impossible to evolve, edit or pivot.
That doesn’t mean we’re a bunch of ‘pleasers’ – truth be told, we’re always a bunch of opinionated buggers – it’s simply that by not taking ourselves too seriously, we stop the ‘process’ of creativity becoming so efficient, it impacts and limits the possibilities of how we solve our clients problems so we can do things people will actually give-a-fuck about.
Or said another way …
Not taking ourselves seriously is most serious way we can be a valuable partner to our clients.
I say all this because I recently had my 5th anniversary at Colenso, and they marked the occasion with some gifts that perfectly capture our ‘seriously unserious’ spirit.
First they got me a bridge climb.
And while that will be a magical and memorable experience, the real reason behind it was to unsubtly tell me they would really like it if I stopped walking 20+kms during the day so I could start doing my work meetings in the office, rather than on the streets.
Secondly they got me a weekly home delivery of sourdough and butter.
Amazing. Except it is not because it’s the food I miss the most – since I got healthy – but because it’s the only guaranteed way to make me have a smile on my face.
Not because I love Forest with all my heart, but because their results affect my mood, and this season I’ve basically been a miserable bastard, bar the last few weeks.
See … piss-taking perfect presents.
But even that doesn’t really capture the tone of how we operate.
But this does …
It’s the card from the CEO of Colenso, Ange …
Whose ‘loving’ words show we share a desk and my health consciousness is not good for her hearing, haha.
So to all the rats of Colenso – past and present, thank you.
You’re not serious. But you are very, very clever. [And a bit kind]
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A few months ago, the lovely James Welch [stupidly] invited me to have a chat about my perspectives on creativity, technology and process.
Why? I have no idea … maybe he was being charitable.
Whatever the reason it ended up – surprise, surprise – being a ramble about why I’m a nightmare to work with, an ‘acquired’ taste and absolutely not an idea megalomaniac.
The good news is only one of these character evaluations came from James … which, on second thoughts, may not be such good news after all.
Anyway, I thought I’d post it …
Not because I have a career death wish, but because if someone out there is finding it hard to sleep, listening to it will help them drift off in no time … albeit having to endure some horrific nightmares along the way.
Not because of what I say – even if some of the perspectives are pretty bleak – but because you’ll hear my dulcet tones saying it.
One of the most overused words in advertising is ‘confidence’.
It’s a characteristic that tends to fail in 2 key ways:
First, it tends to represent who the brand wishes was their customer, rather than who is.
Second, too often its presented in superficial, contrived and over-the-top ways … as if the brand is scared their audience won’t be able to tell what they’re trying to convey unless overt.
Thirdly, a lot of the time it ends up reeking of a brand insecure in who they are and what they believe.
The result of which is that the work often ends up bring a repellent to audiences, rather than a beacon.
There’s an obvious reason for this and that’s real confidence is expressed – and felt – in the small stuff, not the big, which is why one of the best true expressions of confidence was this brilliant Southern Comfort spot from WKNY back in 2012.
I still remember seeing it for the first time.
I was visiting WK Amsterdam and Martin Weigel showed it to me.
Didn’t need any explanation.
Didn’t need over-the-top behaviour.
Didn’t even need any bloody words.
Confidence oozed out of every moment, by nature of it not trying to.
Now, I appreciate being half Italian, I saw these men on the beaches of Pescara, every year that I was growing up – so it could be argued I was ‘pretuned’ to comprehension. But truth be told, whether you’re from Italy or Iceland … everyone got it.
Not just intellectually, but emotionally.
And that line, ‘Whatever’s Comfortable’.
How good was that? The embodiment of confidence, without having to say it.
Just a way to acknowledge some people are at ease with who they are. That they have a belief in who they are. That they are accepting of who they are, regardless of comparison or competition.
No delusion.
No arrogance.
Just a comfort in who you are, rather than pretending to be who you’re not.
And frankly, there hasn’t been anything that has come close to that piece of work since that piece of work, because all I see these days is either more blatant try-hard shit – which reveals a brands lack of confidence, rather than an abundance of it – or manosphere, toxic bullshit.
That was until recently …
The photo above is Simon Vicars, our CCO – also known as the nicest man in advertising.
He is the living proof that ‘good guys’ don’t always come last. He is also proof that being a good human doesn’t mean you’re not talented. Because he is, sickeningly so.
But as I wrote before, he is also a bit of a cheeky bastard. Never with malice, but with a slight mischievousness that somehow, you can’t help finding endearing.
And how does he pull this off?
Well, because he may be the most confident man since the Southern Comfort man.
Sure, he’s whiter than the Dulux Dog.
Sure, he has a nose that Concord would be jealous of. [and I’m hardly one to talk!]
Sure, he has the upper torso you would imagine a slight gust of wind could knock over.
But this just proves my point because how else can you explain him going to a pub [with me] to interview a potential job candidate … asking if they were hungry [it was lunchtime to be fair] and despite them and me saying ‘no’, goes ahead and orders a fucking massive Chicken Parm before proceeding to scoff it down in front of both of us.
To be fair, he looked a bit sheepish as this photo captures – but he still did it – and frankly, it may be one of the most incredible and understated acts of confidence I’ve ever seen.
Partly because he is so nice that I know he did it because he was starving with hunger and was going to be starved of time. Partly because I got a kick of staying quiet at different moments of the interview so I could watch him have to swallow massive pieces of chicken so he would be able to respond to the questions with no massive pause. And partly because – where so many would deny their truth so that they ‘fitted in’ – he did what was good, right and comfortable for him … which, when you come to think of it, is one of the greatest acts of self-respect and transparency you could receive from someone.
So here’s to Si Vicars. He may not look it, but he may be the most confident man in the World.
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But neither of those things are as incredible as this …
You see, on Sunday, it will be 20 years since I started this blog.
TWENTY BLOODY YEARS!
That’s before the iPhone.
And Android.
And Facebook.
And the Kindle.
And the financial crisis.
And before Pluto lost its planet creds.
AND BEFORE WI-FI WAS PUBLICLY AVAILABLE … so a very long time ago.
I still remember why I started it …
It wasn’t for any attempt for notoriety or popularity, it was more to do with survival.
You see I’d got a job that – frankly – I was woefully under-qualified for, and because it demanded so much of my time and energy to make sure I didn’t completely fuck it up, I needed an outlet for all the ideas and thoughts that were going around my head that I just didn’t feel were right for what I needed to do at that time.
Not because I was sure I was going to use them later … more because I needed to feel I was still connected to the stuff I loved while also believing that if I didn’t find a way to get them out of my head, they’d maybe be no more space left for anything new to enter my head.
And so this blog was born.
Reading through the first few posts not only reveals the times we were living in, but also the headspace I was in.
Trying to balance making sense of stuff happening around me while also needing an outlet for stuff I was feeling or thinking … which, in many ways, set the tone for how this blog has been for over 2 decades.
Which George recently described as, “the blog version of TK Maxx”.
He’s not wrong … and in some ways, I really like that.
Sure, among the almost 5000 posts I’ve written, there’s a lot of [to keep the TK Maxx analogy going] cheap and nasty shit in there … but there’s also a few ‘designer label’ gems hidden amongst it all.
At least for me.
Stuff that made me think, challenge or question stuff in ways that I had not imagined or considered before.
Stuff that ended up impacting how I did things and how I still do things.
Stuff that forced me to articulate what I believe, not just what I feel.
Maybe those posts meant nothing to anyone but me. Hell, maybe no one even read them. But while every post I’ve written reflects something about who I was – or am – those ‘self-defined gems’ have a special place in my heart because they represent a moment where I felt I was growing and learning.
It’s why I always enjoyed the comment section, because for all the overwhelming piss-taking I received, the vast majority always ‘encouraged’ me to look deeper, wider or longer at issues I’d written about. And I loved that. I loved how the people who commented always kept me on my toes … which is why one of the unexpected pleasures of writing this blog for so long has been seeing how my opinion on certain subjects has changed or evolved over the years. It’s served as a great reminder about the importance of always exposing yourself to others perspectives, opinions, experiences and standards, even if the goal of it is simply to be really sure about what you think or believe.
In many ways, that’s the biggest surprise of 20 years writing this blog.
I never expected anyone to comment on anything I wrote, because I started it just for me.
A private place to express my thoughts and idiocy.
But then Andy discovered it and he sent an email to everyone at Cynic and some of our clients announcing it and then the mayhem started.
At that point, blogging had become a big thing. A good thing. A community of people who wanted to help and contribute to what others were doing. A lot of this was down to the great Russell Davies and his iconic blog … a place that not only brought people from all over the world together, but inspired others to start writing their own as well.
It was a place that not only exposed me to a lot of brilliant people I’d never have known about without his blog – people like Gareth Kay, Paul Colman, Northern Planner, Rob Mortimer, Marcus, John Dodds, Lauren, Age to name but a few – it also brought people to my blog who helped add to the texture, lessons and perspectives I was writing about.
I will forever be grateful to Russell for that … especially as most of the people he inadvertently introduced me to, not only still exist in my life but I have met them all IN THE FLESH.
Alas the blogging community, like most things in life, has moved on with maybe only Martin and I still churning stuff out via that platform. [Well, he curates, I churn] And while technologies advances allows strategists to be even more connected in even more ways, the energy of the community is not the same as it was back in the early days of blogging.
Now it feels more aggressive.
More sharp elbows and self publicizing.
Wanting the spotlight on them rather than the work they do.
But then, the industry seems to value those who talk about the work more than those who actually make it … which kind-of highlights why the industry is in the state it finds itself in but refuses to acknowledge.
Emperor’s New Clothes anyone?!
Screenshot
That this blog is 20 years old blows my mind. I never thought it would last that long, mainly because I never gave much thought about how long I’d be writing the thing. It’s not always been fun – when I was receiving a lot of anonymous hate that resulted in me deciding to stop allowing comments was definitely a low point – but all in all, the whole experience has been pretty glorious.
In many ways, this is one of the longest committed relationships I’ve ever had.
And one of the most successful, hahaha.
The fact there are some people who have been reading it for almost as long as I have been writing it, is madness.
Have they no taste?
Have they got nothing better to do?
Or maybe they’re stuck in prison and this is part of their ‘sentence’.
The good news for them is there’s no way this will still be a ‘going concern’ in another 20 years … at least not in terms of how regular I’ve been writing posts for the past 2 decades. Not because I am running out of things to say [albeit Andy said I have only ever written 3 posts and just keep re-writing them in different ways] but because I’ll be – hopefully – doing other things with my life.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ll always be grateful to advertising … it has given me a life I never could have dared to imagine … but I am increasingly spending more and more of my time working and collaborating with artists and I feel that’s where my future may be. Not because I don’t love what I do, but because I find their definition and expression of creativity even more interesting, challenging, open, provocative and progressive than where our industry is choosing to head.
But that’s not going to happen yet. Hell, it may not happen at all – I could get fired by all the artists tomorrow for all I know – which is why for the time being, I’ll keep happily juggling my two ‘lives’ while churning out daily blog posts at the same time.
Sorry, hahaha.
That said, the point of continuing this blog is different to what you may think and why I originally started it.
Because while it has helped me grow, learn, make new friends and even help build my professional reputation [which is hilarious when you read some of the stuff I’ve churned out, like this!] … it delivers something that is even more important to me.
Connection to my family.
I know … I know … that sounds weird-as-fuck, but what I mean is this:
A few years ago, Jill said that while she rarely ever reads my blog, when she does – she can hear my voice because of the way I write.
Put simply, how I write is how I talk … so when she reads my posts, it feels like I’m with her.
And she liked that.
Add to this that I’ve shared deeply personal and important moments in my life – from getting engaged to getting married, to Mum dying, to becoming a Dad, to getting Rosie – and Bonnie – to saying a tearful goodbye to Rosie, to moving from Singapore to HK to China to America to London to New Zealand [so far] … which means moving from cynic/WPP to Sunshine to Wieden+Kennedy to Deutsch to R/GA to Colenso [not to mention all the other highs and lows that have impacted or been introduced to my life over this period, be it death, covid, friends, family, health, books, chaos, and/or multitudes of weird, wild, crazy shit] … and this blog is no longer just a place where I rant rubbish, it’s a place my family can have me close even when I’m no longer here.
That means a lot to me.
Not because I want them to need me, but because I like knowing they can access me should they ever need me.
Or if Otis ever wants to introduce me to whoever becomes important in his life.
It’s why I’m going to keep writing it and why I’m going to move it to a free domain again, to make sure it always stay up … because what originally was a place just for me, has become a place that offers connection to the most important people to me.
And with that, I want to say a big thank you to everyone who has ever visited or commented.
Whether you meant it or not, you’ve given me far more than I ever imagined or hoped for.
Thank you. Love you. Grateful for you.
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That’s right … creativity helps business make money.
I know there’s a bunch of people who like to claim otherwise, but they’re wrong.
More than that, creativity can help business make money in ways traditional approaches can’t.
Be it distribution, market share, heritage, price-point, tradition, routine, apathy, complexity and god knows what else … creativity always finds a way because – as Martin Weigel and I explained at Cannes back in 2023 – creativity can do what logic can’t.
This blog has literally thousands of examples of it.