Filed under: Anniversary, Comment, Dad, Death, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, Otis
Today is the 8th anniversary of my Mum passing.
I’ve written a huge amount about how her death affected me.
How I realised that the operation to save her life, had cost her her life.
And yet, unlike Dad’s anniversary – that looms large over me, every year – Mum’s often slips my mind. There has been more than one occasion where the only reason I remembered it was because a friend wrote to send me their love on her anniversary.
Now I should point out I utterly love my Mum.
She was an incredible human who continues to influence how I look at the world.
But while her birthday is cemented in my heart and mind, the anniversary of her death isn’t.
Of course the circumstances between Mum and Dad dying were vastly different.
+ Dad died first.
+ I was 29 when Dad died and 44 when Mum did.
+ I was single when Dad died and a married father when Mum did.
+ I had just left home when Dad died and lived in lots of countries when Mum did.
+ When Dad died my Mum was still there to talk to, but when Mum died, I was alone.
I should point out when I say ‘alone’, I don’t mean literally – I had my wonderful Jill, who was amazing – but even that is different to having someone you can talk to about the life of the person who has died because you were both part of it for many years.
If you read this one day Jill, I hope you understand what I mean.
You were a rock to me. You helped me get through one of the worst times of my life without letting it become more terrible. So please don’t think I didn’t appreciate you – I did and I do and I always will.
This is all a bit rambling isn’t it?
The irony is that while I feel guilt about having to consciously remember Mum’s anniversary – despite having a tattoo of it on my arm – Mum would probably be very happy about it.
For her, she would see it as me remembering her birthday more than her final day – and that’s exactly how she would want it.
It took me 10 years to get to that stage for my Dad, but with Mum it was much quicker.
Again, there are probably many reasons for it – including Otis being only 3 months old when Mum died – but when I think of her, I think of her warmth, compassion, curiosity and spirit.
She was a gentle woman but also a determined one.
Actually determined isn’t quite right … she was, but in the pursuit of her independence. By that I mean in terms of her mind, beliefs, interests and life.
The older I get, the more I appreciate how she handled life.
It wasn’t the easiest, but she never complained or wanted help because she always recognised there were people worse off than her.
I can’t tell you how many ‘discussions’ we had about me wanting to give her money to make her life a little easier and her refusing to take it. It took years for us to find a way to make it work for both of us … which was me putting money in her bank account and she not spending a penny of it. Hahaha.
Oh I miss her.
I miss her voice, her face, her eyes, her questions and her love.
I am so glad I was with her when she died.
I knew one of her biggest fears was being alone when it happened … we had talked about it after it had happened to my Aunt – which is why of all the things I could do for her, making sure this didn’t happen is the one that I know she would have appreciated most.
Of course, not everyone is so lucky to know when this could happen – but with both my Mum and Dad, circumstances meant we were together and I’m so grateful for that.
Not that I always felt that way …
When I was much younger, the idea of being with my parents when they died was too overwhelming for me to consider.
I think I may even have told my parents.
How I imagined it would destroy me.
And it did.
But it was also incredibly important.
Because at that moment, everything was about them.
Their comfort. Their peace. Their ability to take that final step.
I’m not saying it was easy … I’m not saying it didn’t hurt … but in my mind, if it helped them, that’s all that really mattered.
And it helped both my parents.
Which means it helped me.
Because when they needed me most, I was there.
And while the pain of them dying will never heal, I know being there means it didn’t go as deep as it could.
When I think of this day, I think of everything that happened over that day.
It still stings.
But as much as I wish none of it happened, I am so glad I was able to be with her – and Dad.
Because I now see it as the most unlikely beautiful gift we could give each other.
I miss you Mum.
Love you.
Filed under: Advertising, Agency Culture, Attitude & Aptitude, Brand Suicide, Planners, Planners Making A Complete Tit Of Themselves And Bless, Planning, Point Of View, Pretentious Rubbish, Professionalism, Quotes, R/GA, Relevance, Resonance, Wieden+Kennedy
To people who have worked with me in the past … what I am about to say may sound strange. But the older I get, the more I realise what a total bloody nightmare I must have been as an employee and colleague.
I know … I know … you’ve known this for years, but I genuinely didn’t.
Sure, I got I was opinionated, persistent and refused to accept someone’s opinion I disagreed with – even if they were senior or important – but my intentions were always for good.
Good for the work.
Good for the audience.
Good for the clients ambition.
That didn’t mean I always pulled it off – after all, I have a spectacular track record for disaster and stupidity in the quest for doing something brilliant – but it did mean I always gave my all, learnt from [most] of my mistakes and pushed myself to keep finding ways to be original.
And yet, despite that, I still couldn’t help being a cheeky bastard.
Or – in the words of Andy and countless other colleagues and clients – an annoying bastard.
Talks.
Articles.
Client presentations.
You name it, I would find a way to mess with it.
Never maliciously … but because I hate the industries pomposity.
I should point out that doesn’t mean I don’t take what I do seriously.
Nor does it mean I don’t respect the industry that I have worked in my entire career.
It’s simply that I don’t think I have to take myself so seriously in doing it.
Now at 52 you’d think I’d have got my shit together.
But I don’t. In fact, I was recently called by the management of Metallica, ‘resistant to maturity’.
I think they meant it as a compliment … I mean, they renewed my contract again. But while I do believe that there is some benefit to not taking everything so seriously – both attitudinally, creatively and enabling a team to feel free from judgement – I also now appreciate it can be fucking annoying as well.
Which is all my way of highlighting the 2 articles that helped me see what a pain in the ass I may be.
Yes … yes … I appreciate this should have been obvious ages ago.
After all, I once was quoted as saying ‘wank’ on the front page of Campaign … closely followed by me saying I was an ‘annoying’ prick’. And then Campaign got in the act by accusing me of having an affair with a reindeer. But despite that and – let’s be honest – a fuckton of other episodes, including getting drunk on cough sweets and then inadvertently insulting a client [Sorry Lee], I was still none the wiser.
First is this in Little Black Book … where they asked a few planners to comment on some research about people’s habits/trends in Australia.
When it came out, I read it and saw all the other planners being thoughtful and considerate, whereas I go in with 2 guns blazing, blatantly taking the piss out of the whole premise and approach of the research.
Nice one Rob.
In my defence, I did think the research was questionable … both in terms of approach and in findings … but I could definitely of handled my response with a greater level of professionalism, let alone maturity.
And yet it gets worse …
You see every year, BBDO global do some sort of questionnaire to strategists about the trends they think they’ll see coming in the upcoming year.
While Colenso is part of BBDO, we never think – or act – as if we are and, to be fair to BBDO, they never ask us to be and generally leave us alone.
This is all my way of trying to explain why I used a tone in my answers that sounds so piss-takey you’d imagine they’d want to have me buried in a dark whole, let alone my answers.
And yet they then went and ran it all over social channels.
All. Over.
Which means I admire their lack of judgement but question their standards.
Unless, of course, it was an attempt to get me sacked … which would totally make sense.
I So to anyone I’ve ever worked with – or for – I am sorry.
I know it’s too late.
I know I should have known.
I know I’m not going to change.
But – finally – I appreciate I am a fucking nightmare.
[I’ve never been so glad to have comments off. And I will be ignoring the impending emails, ha]
Filed under: Agency Culture, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Brilliant Marketing Ideas In History, Childhood, Comment, Communication Strategy, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Design, Differentiation, Distinction, Effectiveness, Emotion, Football, History, Individuality, Legend, Nottingham, Nottingham Forest, Resonance, Respect, Sport
Over my career, I’ve had a lot of ‘annual reviews’ and in all that time, there’s been a couple of topics that have made regular appearances in my bosses observations.
I am sure you can guess a lot of them, but one is that I approach every brief like a chance to change or impact everything.
Sometimes it was said in a positive tone.
Sometimes it was said in a less than positive tone.
And they were right.
They still are.
Because whenever we/I get a brief, my starting point is ‘what excites me about the brief’ … quickly followed by ‘how insanely big could we make the idea’ … quickly followed by me getting ridiculous excited about the potential, totally ignoring the fact that all they wanted was a shelf wobbler. Or something.
You think I’m joking don’t you? Well I am, but only just.
My strength/weakness is I always dream massive. Proper massive.
Sometimes it’s paid off – creating the first 4×4 on 2 wheels for Peugeot Mopeds in Vietnam.
Sometimes it’s been a total and unmitigated disaster – trying to get Porsche to bring rally car culture to China.
But pretty much all the time I’ve been able to look in the mirror and know I gave them what they needed, albeit in bigger, more provocative ways than they may have wanted … imagined … or expected.
And you know what, I’m good with that … which probably explains why the quote from the KLF – ‘Don’t give them what they want, give them what they’ll never forget’ – resonated with me so hard.
Anyway, the reason I say this is because waaaaaaaaay back in 1973, this ad appeared in the good, old Nottingham Evening Post.
It was an ad to design the Nottingham Forest Football Club badge.
If that sounds strange, wait till you hear the reason.
Originally, the Forest badge was the Nottingham Coat of Arms … it’s the emblem featured in the middle of the ad.
After discovering they could not copyright it, they decided they had to come up with a new badge and – for reasons no one has really got a good answer for – they decided to run a competition in the local paper, recruiting two lecturers in art and design as advisers.
Despite this being before the glory years of the Clough era, and a prize of just £25, the response was massive.
There were 855 entries from as far away as Australia and Germany … with one man submitting 27 designs.
After a judging process, David Lewis was crowned the winner with this …
David was 29 at the time, working as a graphic designer and lecturer at Nottingham’s College of Art.
He was a football nut and fancied a shot at winning the cash, but there was one problem … one of the judges, a man called Wilf Payne, was the head of the department where he worked.
David said …
“I didn’t think that any design I entered could have been judged fairly if he knew it was mine, and I also didn’t want to embarrass the judges. I did want to enter, though, so I decided to use my mother’s maiden name to hide my real identity. My mother’s side of the family were Italian immigrants and her maiden name was Lago. So I submitted my design as Lago and it wasn’t until afterwards that the judges found out my real name.”
Thank god he did that, because otherwise he may not have won and football – not just Nottingham Forest – would have missed out on one of the most beautiful and distinctive football club logos of all time.
Simple, yet powerful.
Accessible, yet iconic.
Universal, yet truly Nottingham … thanks to the tree representing Sherwood Forest, the wavy lines reflecting the river Trent [where the City Ground stands next to] and the red/white colour formation to reflect the club colours.
Forest’s badge has remained unchanged ever since David’s design – except for the addition of 2 stars to celebrate Forest’s back-to-back European Cup triumphs in 1979 and 1980.
Hell, the club is known to fans as ‘the tricky tree’s’ thanks to the logo.
And a few years ago, an American magazine ran an article on the most memorable and liked sports logos across the world and Davi’d design was in the top 10.
THE. TOP. TEN.
The point is, David Lewis could have approached the competition ‘pitch brief’ as many approach real pitch briefs.
Giving them exactly what they ask for in ways they would expect or feel comfortable with … which in this case would be a badge that represents Nottingham Forest and takes design cues from the existing logo.
But David thought bigger than that.
He wanted to create a design for Nottingham Forest that would be known, respected and revered across all sports and across all countries. A badge that could play outside the lines of the game and into culture.
A designer badge. Literally and figuratively.
And he did it. Beautifully and brilliantly.
Which is why the next time you get a brief – whether for a pitch or an existing client – just remember this story, because the whole industry could do with being more David Lewis.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Australia, Brand, Jill, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents, Technology
A few weeks ago I went to pick up Jill and Otis from the airport.
They’d been in Australia to see ‘granny’ and had a lovely time.
Anyway, when I saw Otis, he immediately told me about an “amazing cool giant robot face” he’d seen in Sydney and showed me a photo he’d taken.
As soon as I saw it, I realised it was part of project I did with the founder of Gentle Monster.
Telling him this resulted in Good and Bad news.
Good: I’m now [Finally, if temporarily] cool.
Bad: He wants me to bring it home.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Agency Culture, Attitude & Aptitude, Brand, Brand Suicide, Comment, Context, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Cunning, Devious Strategy, Effectiveness, Marketing, Marketing Fail, Martin Weigel, Mischief, Relevance, Resonance
In April, I have been asked to speak at a conference in Croatia.
Croatia! What a country … I cannot bloody wait.
I know … I know … I can hear you all from here, screaming ‘another holiday freebie’. And while I accept this is a terrible misjudgement on their part, does the fact I have to take 3 planes over 24 hours to get there from NZ make you feel any differently?
No … didn’t think so. Doesn’t for me to be honest.
Now this conference is apparently a big deal with some very big names appearing so when they asked what I would be talking about, I thought it best to honour the occasion while representing my abilities, which is why I told them this:
There are many ways I could describe this talk. I could say it’s an investigation into why so many brands fail to connect to audiences despite having more data, research and marketing investment than at any point in history. Or I could take a more controversial path with ‘What if the tools and processes of modern marketing are wrong?’ And while both of those questions will feature within this talk, the real narrative is if you want to be culturally, commercially and creatively powerful … please stop being so bloody boring.
And to double down on that premise, here is slide 2 from the upcoming preso …
While I fully appreciate this seems like I’m not taking things seriously, I am.
Very seriously.
Because the industry seems to only have 2 settings: serious or stupid.
Or said another way, purpose filled or sponsored comedy.
And while they can both work in the right context – and with real talent creating it – it’s all got so expected that it wins by relentless repetition, rather that intrigue and interest.
At least with agencies like Mischief – who I adore – they are painfully aware of who they are, what they do and how they do it.
They’re less ad agency of brand communications, and more meme agency of the internet. And they do it so, so well.
But even they run the risk of their approach ending up being expected. A bit like brands who ‘hijack culture’ … which has now got so common, you have to ask if it is hijacking anything.
Thank god in Mischief’s case they have the brilliant and irrepressible Greg Hahn at their helm – someone who not only is phenomenally creative, but also can read and play with the pulse of culture – so just when things get expected, he takes people somewhere new and interesting.
Or said another way, he kills boring before boring takes hold.
But the reality is what Mischief do is not new.
There are many brands – even industries – who have been doing this sort of thing for decades.
Fashion. Gaming. Hell, even certain TV shows have been doing it.
[Albeit, to different degrees]
And they do it in ways that builds their brands role and position in culture more than just gaining a moment of space for it to be seen and discussed in culture. [That sounds like a diss, it’s not meant to … it’s just my bad writing because Mischief already have achieved more than companies who have been around a century]
The real issue is that in our desperate need to be validated by business, we’ve forgotten what business we’re in.
Because to use creativity just for short-term sales goals robs creativity of it’s true commercial value and power for brands, products, tools and services.
To be intriguing … enticing … interesting and inviting.
Because as the title of this post, stolen from my beloved Martin Weigel so perfectly states …
“You can be relevant as hell and still be boring as fuck.”