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Vacation from reality
Many brand development projects reach a moment when someone asks earnestly, “What is our brand…what does it all mean?” And because the quest for The Truth is so fun and full of discoveries, and apparently free of any real risk to life and limb, we turn our gazes to distant horizons. Our language escalates. We talk less about observable things and predictable experiences, and begin to talk about lofty “benefits” whose values we assume are obvious and universal. Before we know it, we’ve become rather unmoored from reality, with no certain destination in sight.
The trouble is, we have to take the trip. The most important thing to remember to pack is the return-trip ticket. These journeys from the tangible world to worlds of abstraction help us learn fundamental things about brands. The question is, whether we return meaningfully changed: whether we picked up anything on the way there and back.
Just as maps are abstractions of places in the real world—critical abstraction that help us make sense of our place and direction—abstractions about organizations and their brands are really only useful when they correspond to real or possible experiences. Each is more meaningful with the other. S. I. Hayakawa, in his excellent book, Language in Thought and Action, describes the “abstraction ladder” that we climb, along the way turning what is objective and concrete into something subjective and conceptual. Climbing the abstraction ladder, Farmer Brown’s cow Bessie becomes livestock…a capital asset…wealth. But the trip back from “wealth” is not so easy. It doesn’t necessarily lead back to Bessie. When we climb from specific things to abstract concepts, we risk leaving meaning behind, which probably means leaving customers behind too.
So should brands take staycations? Set sights a little lower and forget the moonshot (an excellent visualization of an abstraction, btw)? Not exactly. Brands must always move to stay fresh and vital. They must move purposefully. And it takes a lot of people to move them—leaders to set a destination, managers and makers to put plans into action, and customers to witness the brand in real life. They take the winding journey together, taking turns choosing the routes. The brand is at once tangible (through countless real, observable, and repeatable experiences) and abstract (through the histories those experiences create).
By touring the ethereal lands of abstraction, we get a sense of what our brands might mean, or aspire to mean. But we have to bring snapshots of that place back home, where our brands live, and give them a reinvigorated sense of purpose. A new spirit, maybe new direction, but one not unrecognizable from the original point of departure. In the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, Captain Jack Sparrow’s magic compass took him to what his heart desired most, something he pictured in mind.
The fantasy of the brand requires a corresponding reality—a clear picture of a goal to reach—and the adventure is getting there.
Categories: Branding
Calendar on your phone. Simple. Right?
Many months ago I made a HUGE mistake. I started mentioning to our employees that we would soon be able to rid ourselves of the Meeting Maker shared calendar system we use and switch over to an iCal Server. This (I assumed) meant staff could now keep an updated work calendar in their pockets at all times. Well, it’s been months, and months, and months, and guess what? Not a single employee has a work calendar on their phone yet.
I know, you’re probably saying “Well Matt, it seems you’re just bad at your job.” And you know what? Maybe you’re right. But one would think: iCal, iCal Server, and iCal on the iPhone are all Apple applications. They should all talk to one and other with ease. Right?? (To be fair to the three versions of iCal previously mentioned, they do all technically talk to one and other, just not in a nearly efficient or user friendly manner. My much appreciated extra hand and test subject Luke can surely attest to this.)
I have been following the adventures (and begging for help) of Michael Oh, Founder of the amazing company tech superpowers. He seems to be the only one I can find who has been through the ups and downs of iCal Server and iPhone syncing. He just happens to run a company that can find away around this whole mess and offer it to users.
But I write this post with a giddy little feeling in my IT belly that this Friday might be the day I have been desperately waiting for. Apple has officially announced the release of Snow Leopard. I can’t help but feel that Christmas is coming early this year. (And I FINALLY might be able to get a cup of coffee without the inevitable question regarding iCal.)
I know I am putting a lot of faith in this new OS. So all I can do is wait, prepare, and read post after post of others also highly anticipating the Snow Leopard release. Also, I can much more confidently assure the staff here at Sametz Blackstone Associates: iCal on your iPhones is coming….
Categories: Digital Media
The other way you’re wasting your story
You have a great story. I know you do. And yesterday I told you you’re wasting it by telling the story you want to hear.
But you may be wasting your stories another way—by telling a story that’s already over.
The thing about good stories is you can see yourself in them. You want to see how they end, and you want to feel that, even through silent urging, you can somehow choose your own adventure.
That’s where a lot of of us fail as storytellers. We’re so used to the typical construct of beginning-middle-end that when we construct our stories—brand stories or otherwise—we all too often tell a story that doesn’t have an obvious place for the person we’re talking to:
This is what I did. Here’s what happened to me. Past tense.
The passion, the facts, the importance of your product or service—or cause—mean nothing if the people you’re talking to don’t see how they can benefit (or, in the case of nonprofits, how they can produce benefit).
I learned this lesson quite powerfully working at Harvard Medical School, where I was charged with developing a communication strategy to support the School’s fundraising efforts. In that case, the stories we told were impressive. Even Nobel Prize-winning. But if you tell people what’s already been discovered, without making it clear all that is still unknown, they have no idea how they could effect change, how to make a difference. They may be impressed, but they won’t be motivated to act. For that they have to see how they can either (a) have an effect on or (b) be affected by what you do.
We love success stories, particularly in the form of case studies. But those stories are over. Done. No opportunity for change.
Think about it: how often do we tell stories that start in medias res (quite literally, in the middle of things)? We don’t. But think about the last time a story got you to do (or buy) something. I bet that story had a beginning. And maybe even a middle. But the ending was left up to you.
So pair your success stories with other stories, this time where the ending is unclear. You’ll make it nearly impossible for someone not to want to take part.
Categories: Branding
The first way you’re wasting your story
The key to great branding and marketing? Tell a great story. But you’re wasting it.
How? Well, for one, you’re telling your story the way you want to hear it.
My preferred reading falls into two categories: treatises on group and personal behavior…and Regency-era romance novels. It’s very hard to get me to pick up a book that doesn’t fall into one of those two categories.
But we all have our bias. History, biography, sci-fi…whatever the subject, each of us likes to read and hear stories told in certain ways.
Take the Civil War, for instance. You can take a chronological approach to telling the story. Or focus on a key character. You can tell the story of the unsung. Or find the romance in it. Or use it to help define a new genre. However the story of the Civil War is told, the basic elements are always the same. The readers of each version of the story come away with some knowledge of those elements. Because those elements are framed in a way the readers enjoy, they are more likely to remember and understand them—the goal of effective brand storytelling, organizational or otherwise.
When we tell stories, we also have a bias: we tell the stories we want to hear, which is kind of a problem when you’re trying to market to (or get support from) different types of people, all of whom have their own preferences. People want to hear the stories they want to hear.
If you tell your story as a biography, then biography buffs are the ones most likely to enjoy it. But if you can tell that same story in multiple ways—suspense, self-help, adventure—then each new telling brings a new chance at connection.
To do this, you need to know your bias. Look on your nightstand, both literally and figuratively. (Yes, those books are, in fact, the ones currently by my bed. You’ll see they all fall into my two categories: treatise and trash.) From a literal standpoint, looking at what you read most often can tell you a lot about the kinds of stories you like, and like to tell. Based on my nightstand reading (and the stories I’ve told in past posts here), you’ll see I have a very strong bias towards explaining things—with passion.
The organizational nightstand is figurative, but the same exercise applies: Do your case studies sound the same, regardless of their subject? Do the stories you tell tend to fall into a standard format or plotline?
If they do, you’re likely wasting your story, simply by not telling it in multiple ways. Don’t worry about repeating yourself—most people can recognize their type of story by the cover, and don’t ever pick up ones that don’t suit. We make our decision to read and attend to stories based on visual and verbal cues. That’s why titles, keywords, and design are so important. They help us evaluate, at a glance, whether or not to “read” further.
So go back to your stories. Do some rewrites. If you tell a lot of people-focused stories, try explaining your methods, too. If you’ve talked about your tools and how they work, try talking about their impact. If you’re having trouble seeing beyond your own bias, ask for help—from someone who likes different types of stories than you do (or an outside consultant or firm).
At the end of the day, the question isn’t, “What’s my story?”
It’s: “How many ways can I tell it?”
Tomorrow: the other way you’re wasting your story.
Categories: Branding
Tuning in by turning off
Flipping through Vogue on my 4-day, computer-free weekend, an article about Marissa Mayer—the vice president of Search Product and User Experience at that little known company Google—caught my eye.
(Of course because she was photographed wearing a purple cutout dress by Narciso Rodriguez. I couldn’t resist at least a scan of the words.)
Anyway, the article described Ms. Mayer’s many success stories and good instincts (she turned down a teaching job at Carnegie Mellon for the opportunity to join the then little know startup, Google). She’s now known for her part in “big ideas” and for influence on design. Her wide closet doors house her love affairs with de la Renta, Herrera, and Armani. (Hence my immediate interest.)
Hard work has obviously paid off in her many opportunities.
However, the article also spoke of her constant connection to her job. Her boyfriend Zack Bogue commented on their faint lines between home and work. She brings her laptop everywhere. Mr. Bogue stated, “you never know when you’ll get fifteen minutes.”
I read the article with my toes in the sand and sun on my face. I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that my laptop was at home, zippered in its case, lonely and dangling on its hook. I could have at least checked my email, perhaps done some creative brainstorming in my beer-sipping down time.
Then again, I came back dreading even the thought of entering the room of my three-day hibernating computer. During my stay, I found myself forgetting the mounds of work waiting for me upon my return. I had no inkling to check email, or open Photoshop. I was able to enjoy the relaxation without those random mental Post-it notes and to-do lists.
I can’t help but wonder what’s more important for my mind and progression: constant connection or connection recess?
Categories: Outside the Square
I got tagged
“FAT IS NOT A FOUR LETTER WORD.” This is a proposed tag line for a nonprofit. Could it be for The Literacy Project or perhaps the National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance? Maybe it’s for Advocates for the Zone Diet.
“FAT IS NOT A FOUR LETTER WORD” is the tag line for Ashley’s Designing Dissent: Advocacy Advertising project. Ashley is one of 18 seniors who presented their projects to me and my colleague, Kerri, at New England Institute of Art on Monday, August 12.
Ashley’s project, which is directed towards the National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance, made me take notice, made me laugh, and made me think. Her powerful campaign pairs provocative images of attractive, stylish, large women with a headline comprised of consecutive words where the first letters together spell FAT like “F”riend, “A”ctivist and “T”errific. And featuring the tag line “FAT IS NOT A FOUR LETTER WORD.” The campaign includes a proposal for guerrilla marketing where supporters can download stickers to plaster on posters and advertisements throughout the city. Specifically ads that advocate dieting or otherwise promote thinness as “in-ness.”
Several other projects presented last Monday also moved me or taught me something. I learned something about several organizations I have never heard of, like Reform Immigration, Ground Control – Drunk Driving Prevention, Right Turn.org (a rehab center focusing on creative people), and African Well Fund. I also learned more about some recognizable favorites including the MSPCA, Habitat for Humunity, and Amnesty International.
As designers, we have some powerful potential to make people take notice, make them laugh (or even cry sometimes), and make them think. Always strive to realize this potential—whether you’re a student or a teacher.
Categories: Design, Outside the Square
True Type Crime Beat: No matter how you slice it
As a long time resident of the South End, when I’m asked “who has the best pizza in the neighborhood?”, my response is always “best slice by far is New York Pizza on the corner of Mass Ave and Columbus.”
Everyone I’ve ever sent there agrees—best slice by far. And, to date, no one has had any trouble finding the place, despite the fact that the sign presents some confusion around the name.
The large sign on the Columbus Avenue side clearly reads “NEW PIZZA YORK.” What were they thinking? It’s like saying NEW CLAM CHOWDER ENGLAND. It unnerves me every time I pass by it.
Once I called the number on their take-out menu, which reads “New York Pizza,” and they answered the phone “New York Pizza.” So why the sign?
I Googled “New Pizza York, Boston” and there’s nothing on the whole first page that connects to the store on the corner of Mass Ave and Columbus. Searching for “New York Pizza, Boston,” however, locates the store with the very first item. Curiously, the website address for the store is “newyorkpizzaplace.com.” I suppose newyorkpizza.com or newpizzayork.com was already taken when they went to register their URL.
I will continue my faithful patronage, and I will always recommend their slice as the best—because it is the best. But going forward I may start referring to it as NEW PIZZA YORK just for the validation I will garner from that moment of confusion that’s likely to occur and the mouth-watering taste of solidarity—pro: great pizza, anti: confusing word order choices—that I hope to experience.
Appetit bon!
Categories: Design
You make me smile
On my way to work this morning on Mass Ave at Symphony, I caught a glimpse of a logo that makes me smile. It’s Yamato Transport’s mama cat securely carrying her kitten to safety. What could be more fitting for an international package delivery and moving company? There’s no globe, no swish, no speeding arrows—just a warm and fuzzy feeling; exactly how you need to feel when your belongings or valuables are being shipped. Paul Rand’s original UPS package logo with the sweet little bow was another, more perfect execution that pulled heartstrings. (When Rand showed his seven-year-old daughter the UPS logo sketch she said, “That’s a present, Daddy.” Not a package; a present—and all that it promises.)
In the first episode in season two of AMC’s Mad Men, the agency develops a campaign for Mohawk Airlines is which the stewardesses’ short hemlines are the selling point. Peggy Olson, the agency’s copywriter, defends the team’s strategy to an unimpressed Don Draper, saying, “Sex sells.” Don replies, “Says who? The people who talk like that think monkeys can do this. You feel something. That’s what sells. Not sex.” The resulting strategy is re-focused on a businessman’s daughter welcoming her father home.
Anyone can put together symbols and words (and show some proverbial skin), but more challenging—and maybe more risky—is bringing humanity to design. What moves you to recall a memory, imagine a story, make you feel happy, make you FEEL, keep the connection long after the visual is gone?
I like to imagine a trembling designer presenting the little cats to the Yamato board, the raised eyebrows, the clearing of throats, and then… a warm smile of recognition.
Categories: Design, Outside the Square
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