Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Auckland, Authenticity, Brand, Brand Suicide, Comment, Context, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Design, Distinction, Diversity, England, London, Marketing, Marketing Fail, Mediocrity, Reputation, Resonance
One of the things I have loved about living in so many countries is that I’ve been able to see and experience different ways of living.
I don’t just mean from an economic perspective, but in terms of what a country or city values and how it expresses and encourages that through its architecture, planning, facilities and people.
However, over the decades – as economies have grown – more and more of the individual spirit and character of cities has been replaced with identikit skylines, resulting not just in everything looking familiar, but feeling it as well.
Now I appreciate for some, this is a great thing … the creation and demonstration of social progress and achievement. However when everything increasingly ends up looking, feeling and acting the same – regardless of geography – not only is the magic of discovery being traded for the convenience of familiarity, the soul and history of every individual city is being erased and whitewashed over.
I say this because recently, as I was walking around Auckland, I saw this:
The bit that got me most was that first line …
‘All these upgrades are turning our city grey’.
And they’re right.
Don’t get me wrong, Auckland is a beautiful city and a great place to live … but what is being classified as ‘improvements’ is ironically having the exact opposite effect.
The colour, character and contrasts of Auckland are being wiped out … traded out … and moved out … slowly turning the entire City into a comfortable and convenient prison cell. Except instead of this cell keeping people from getting out, it stops people from wanting to come in. Not because there aren’t things to do, but because they are the exact same things, with the exact same people as everyone else is experiencing.
It’s part of the reason I loved the London Underground on Friday evenings.
Because despite it being packed. Despite it being hot. Despite people not really making eye contact, let alone talking to you … it was like a brilliant zoo. Full of different animals hanging out in each others environments.
People going to the theatre.
People going home from work.
People going out for a big night.
People going to do a night shift.
People going on a first date.
People going for a last meal.
Locals … out-of-towners … tourists.
God I loved it … I loved the variety, the weirdness, the characters and chancers.
Or said another way, the pieces that not only give a place its soul and identity.
But also its individuality.
Brands … specifically those who outsource who they are to a ‘for profit’ marketing practice process, should take careful note. There’s a lot of you. Even though it’s increasingly difficult to tell you from one another given you all look, act and feel the exact same.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, America, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Death, Deutsch, Donn, Family, Fashion, Friendship, Love, Otis
So I’m back and it was, as expected, amazing.
Obviously I have a deep love of Asia, but I have a special place in my heart for Vietnam.
Anyone who knows anything about history will understand the creativity of the place, be that its food, its art, its industry or its ability to find ways to beat every enemy who has tried to invade in the last 1000 years.
So it’s little surprise that Spikes Asia chose to hold their judging for the creative and strategy awards there … which meant I got to see some phenomenal work, some great friends and some awesome tourist stuff.
Oh, and my eye generally held up [but unfortunately not totally, hence trips back to the hospital and meds for a bit longer] but all in all it was a really fucking great week.
But I know there’s nothing worse than hearing someone talk about how great things were for them when you were stuck in the office dealing with shit so to try and win back some errrrrm, favour, let me tell you a little story.
One day – hopefully a long time in the future – my son, Otis, will go to a lawyer to hear the reading of his old mans ‘last will and testament’.
Hopefully, when he hears there’s not much left, he will find this post featuring the latest photograph someone has sent me linked to something I did to/for them a few years back [and let’s be honest, there are a TON of them] thinks, “my Dad was a mischievous sod”, rather than – as I fear – “my Dad went broke buying stupid shit to embarrass/take-the-piss out of people he loved”.
Mind you, given I love every fibre of that kid, its safe to say he will have a lot of stuff to remember me by.
Even if it might be [read: probably is] stuff he’d rather forget.
Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers.
Thank you for giving me a smile Donn … given I bought you that jumper back in 2018, it would suggest 2 things.
1. It may offer me the best ROI of anything I’ve ever bought in my life.
2. You should stay well away from Harper’s softball buddies Dad and his weird internet browsing habits.
Always looking out for you Donn. You special bloody human.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Asia, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Contribution, Corporate Evil, Craft, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Emotion, Empathy, Environment, Finance, Government, Imagination, Perspective, Resonance, Respect, Values, Vietnam
Over the last year, I have fallen in love with walking.
What once I considered a waste of TV/Gaming/Eating time, now I prioritise it.
I take client calls on walks.
I do team catch-ups on walks.
I do a lot of my work thinking time on walks.
Walk, walk, walk, walk, walk.
And the benefits of this approach to life are plentiful.
I’m healthier – physically and mentally.
I have a skin tone that no longer makes me look like an anemic Dracula.
And I have got to connect more to the places I live and work.
I am not suggesting in any way others need to be doing this, just highlighting how it has had a lifechanging effect on me.
But one of the things I have really got to appreciate with walking is seeing the communities and streets around where I live and how – every now and then – you come across something that makes me stop walking and stare.
This is one of them …
Someone did that.
Someone decided to do that.
To make a little part of the pavement, a jewel.
And I have no idea why … and I have no idea who … but I love someone did.
Not just because they took the time, but they thought is was worth the time.
And that’s the thing I worry about where we’re heading.
Because everything is seemingly evaluated and valued by greatest and fastest ROI.
We’re seeing companies do it with their endless mergers and acquisitions.
We’re seeing tech firms do it with their blinkered focus on optimisation over possibility..
And we’re seeing governments do it with their disregard of the arts in favour of business.
And while, of course, money is hugely important … when the impact and value on how society feels and interacts is disregarded, the economic benefit ends up being even more short-term.
Some people won’t care.
Some people are only focused on what they can get out of something rather than what they can give or enable for someone else.
Which is why I’m so grateful to whoever made this piece of literal street art.
Because it’s far more than just decorating a bit of the pavement, it’s a reminder of the choice we have. Because while the ‘economically functional’ may be easier, cheaper, faster and more convenient, its the stuff that you know is born from someone’s passion that leaves the most lasting impression.
Talking of passion, I’m away next week in one of my favorite places in the World, Vietnam.
[I say that, it all depends on what the doctors say about my eye at today’s check up. Eek]
It’s exciting for 3 reasons.
1. I’ve not been there for years.
2. It’s where I helped create the ‘4×4 on 2 wheels‘.
2. It means that after 3 months of pain, my eye is doing well enough to travel again.
And before you ask, it is for work – even though I get to see friends there at the same time.
So while I’m off experiencing the place with the most infectious spirit, unstoppable energy and relentless optimism in Asia, I hope you have a week finding and celebrating the things that may make no economic sense to an accountant but make so much sense to your soul.
Because in these days of beige and boring, creativity is not so much about art, but an act of rebellion on behalf of the human spirit.
See you in a week.
Recently I was walking around where I live when I saw this …
Apart from being proud/relieved that the pranks from my childhood are still thriving [although, given I live in NZ, some may say it is evidence the country is running 20 years behind everywhere else] I couldn’t help think this could be a Mini ad campaign.
You see given how massive Mini’s are these days – at least compared to what they once were – I was surprised how small that one looked under that road cone.
With that in mind, maybe they could do a whole bunch of print ads that feature everyday objects from the road, which they then put next-to, or on, the car and – just like that – they’ve reinforced both the name of the brand as well as remind the car-buying public of its size advantage [albeit more because there’s so many bloody massive SUV’s on the roads these days, rather than because Mini are teeny-tiny]
You’re welcome BMW.
Please make your cheque payable to R Campbell.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Birthday, Comment, Love, My Childhood, Nottingham
This week has been a week of – of me – serious posts.
So maybe it’s because I can’t keep that up for 5 days straight …
Or because Colenso won ‘Agency Of The Year’ last night in NZ …
Or that today would have been my Mum and Dad’s 61st wedding anniversary …
Or – also today – it is my friend, Heleen’s, birthday …
… but I thought I’d end the post on something else entirely.
When I was growing up in Nottingham, there was a busker affectionately known as ‘Xylophone Man’.
Part of the reason for this name was because he actually played a xylophone. The other part was he played it absolutely terribly. But with unbelievable enthusiasm.
If truth be known, all he did was run his mallet the entire length of the notes and then – at the end – he would flamboyantly raise his hand in the air as if he had just performed a concerto to a stadium of adoring fans. He’d do this over and over again … sometimes up the xylophone, sometimes down … but always with his big, toothless smile on his face.
I’d see him every Saturday in town [AKA, Nottingham City Centre], outside C&A … always playing, always happy, rain or shine.
But what is amazing is he was adored by all.
Rich, humble, famous, infamous, families, teens, drunks …
No one gave him any trouble because everyone was captivated by the enthusiasm and happiness he had for what he did and the sound he made.
His name was Frank, and when he died in 2004, the city got together to honor him … not just paying for his funeral, but also contributing to a plaque to commemorate who he was, what he did and where he did it.
Because what he gave us was far more than some xylophone ‘tunes’.
He gave the people of the city a common connection …
A way for us to step out of our lives and into our community …
A moment to bond, to smile, to laugh, to clap, to cheer. Both at the beauty of life and the absurdity of it.
And I think that’s what Frank liked the most. Being seen for who he was rather than being ignored because of who he wasn’t.
There’s a million different sort of Frank’s in this world.
Some may be in your office.
Some may even be part of your family.
But basically, they’re individuals who are happy with who they are and don’t aspire to be anything more than that.
And the funny thing is, while a lot of society often regard these people as lacking drive, value or ambition, I am increasingly of the opinion they’re the one’s who have got life worked out the best.
Because they appreciate what they have.
They enjoy and value what they do.
And they never waste their time, energy or emotions chasing things that only matter to those who spend too most of their life hiding who they are.
Writing this post, I found an old interview with Frank – and I have to say, he sounds exactly the same way as he played.
Eccentric.
Endearing.
Amusing.
The Frank’s of this world matter.
They remind us of what’s important.
They connect us to where we’re from.
The help define who we are.
At a time where we are surrounded – and as a byproduct, encouraged – to engage in ‘professional bravado’, the Frank’s of this World have, arguably, never been so important.
To remind us experience, trumps popularity.
That fulfillment, beats job titles.
And substance, smokes speed.
And while many may discount or ignore them the Frank’s of this world, it’s worth remembering he got a city commemorating him, whereas most of us are lucky if an ex-collegaue occasionally emails us.