The Evolution of the Web

Today at work, we were having a conversation defining the nature of web 2.0 and 3.0. For my gentle readers who need a little web primer:
web 1.0--websites throwing info (content) at users aka read-only
web 2.0--Users can create, share, and respond to content
web 3.0--web understands content and context to customize experiences

As I was thinking about our little conversation and, of course, being the good BYU alum that I am, I related our conversation to a little religious allegory, if you will. Bear with me in my imperfect metaphor.

Web 1.0 is like the Middle Ages, when we had to rely on authority figures (the Church) to let us know what we thought about God, because, well, none of us could or write, so they were the ones with the know-how and the power to make it (religious thinking) happen.


Web 2.0 is the online equivalent of the Gutenberg printing press. Now we can all read and write! We can decide for ourselves, share ideas, and tell each other about God! Huzzah!


Web 3.0 is like our post-modern age! I am making my own god, baby! And it looks like it's graven in gold.
(helping people find their personal god since 1950)

Blog-alicious!

Some of you, my gentle readers, may know that when I find consumed with the ennui, I often like to turn to the Craigslist Missed Connections board to idle away sometime, find great amusement, and even connect with the poignant pathos of the lonely and urban.

Well, now I have found a blog that takes one of my favorite activities of leisure and transforms it into a work of sublime New-Yorker-cartoon-style beauty. Behold:
missedconnectionsny.blogspot.com



This genius woman, Sophie Blackall, takes it upon herself to create these beautiful illustrative works, bringing to life the best that missed connections has to offer! I love it! Is there some board I could nominate this blog to?

This may be my fave:

It's So Hard Having Famous Friends!

I knew it would happen once I moved to L.A., but I still don't know how to make sure everyone gets the attention they deserve. So when Gavin invited me to lunch, I had to figure out how to bow out gracefully.

I think this did the trick.

(I wonder who will actually read it.)

Corner Market?

At the tail end of a long and fun party at our house, our friend Lisa showed us this video (I think it's from Ukraine. Can anyone verify?):



To be honest, at first I thought it was going to be a little cheesy/crafty, but as I sat with it, I saw it is a truly beautiful and astounding storytelling medium with an incredibly gifted artist at the helm. To do this requires genuine creativity, an appreciation for the principles of beauty, and a great deal of disciplined practice.

To be a little crass perhaps, this reminds of the first time I had a loroco pupusa. For those of you who aren't familiar with pupusas, they are kind of like a stuffed gordita from Ecuador. They stuffed with beans, cheese, pork, and often loroco flowers and topped with an amazing curtido (or cabbage salad) and mild red sauce. My first thought was sheer delight, but then I felt a little chagrined that my own people (Mexicans) did not come up with pupusas ourselves, since I have always felt that Mexicans had the corner market on great Latin American cuisine.

This video reminded me of those feelings. As our standardized test scores are surpassed by other nations, I think it has been easy to mollify ourselves with our supposed corner market on creativity. We believe this is our strength because of our individualistic spirit, independence, and free-market capitalism. Perhaps. My own experiences in fine art have shown me otherwise, and this video reinforces it: creative solutions of beauty and simplicity are coming out of cultures and circumstances very different from our own.

So where does that leave the legacy of American culture?

Art & Copy

I have been looking forward to it for weeks. Months, perhaps. The premiere of Art & Copy, a little indie documentary commissioned by The One Club about the creative field of advertising.



Truth be told, out here in L.A., I have found myself chomping at the bit to be reconnected in any way with the world of creatives I found in San Francisco. Ah, that little conclave of bombastic creative opinions and cursing.

So I followed Art & Copy on Twitter, and put the premiere date in my I-Cal, with a two-week advance reminder to get tickets. I imagined that every ad person in Southern California would be flocking to the West Hollywood premiere and I wanted to make sure I would not be left without a ticket. After all, at best, this film promised access to the thoughts and stories of some of the greatest minds in advertising, and at the very least, we advertising folk thoroughly enjoy being reminded of the cultural significance and visionary genius of our industry.

I dragged along my boyfriend, who works in political digital campaigns, and my friend, Jay, who used to be a planner and now works as a qualitative research.

The courtyard outside the Laemmle 5 Theater was swarming with eager attendees...for another film. Our own little screening room was graced by the producers of the film and an almost half-full theater. My hopes to surrounded by anticipatory, creative electricity were immediately dashed.

Still, the opening scene seemed promising. Cave drawings and layered ad jingles started to draw a correlation between prehistoric cave drawings and the creative expressions of advertisers...but the full metaphor was never drawn. And, in fact, that is my major criticism of the film. Potential ideas were intimated, but never fully explored, leaving me to question the actual thesis of the film. Ironically, the film spent considerable time describing how advertising brought humanity and story elements to business sales, and yet the film itself lacked any sort of narrative arch. Instead, it seemed to relay a series of anecdotes and Power-Point-worthy factoids in a loosely chronological order.

It seems to me a film suitable for first semester advertising students, to indoctrinate them into the religion and lore of advertising, but as someone pretty familiar with both, I found myself growing a little bored with the film. As an insider, it seemed to me that likely only someone in the industry would actually be interested in the film, but my boyfriend, Shane, thinks anyone in a creative field or marketing would find the movie interesting, and his own mind was buzzing with how to bring greater creativity and relevancy to his client work (mind you, Shane already does a pretty good job of this).

True to industry form, the movie was peppered with profanity and hubris, most notably from famed art director, George Lois. His presence in the film actually made me squirm a bit, in part because some of his claims seemed so hubristic as to make all us advertisers seem kind of like asses, but also because I had just heard a podcast of This American Life, in which his former ad partner, Julian Koenig, and some of his other colleagues openly accuse George of frequently taking credit for the work and ideas of others. It made me want to question the credibility of the film.

Perhaps the most haunting line of the film was when Mary Well boldly claimed,"You can manufacture any feeling you want to manufacture." That definitely made me sit up in my seat (and perhaps cringe a little). But while Art & Copy had the potential to make this an indictment of the industry, it never carried through. Likely because of The One Club. As I remember one Rotten Tomatoes critic saying--it's an ad for advertising.

The greatest treat for me was seeing some of the great minds of advertising that shaped the industry in the 20th century, speaking, revealing their personality quirks, and sharing their values. In particular, I found myself inspired by Lee Clow (TBWA Chiat Day) who reminded me of a sage surfer uncle. I was wowed by the drive and energy of Mary Wells (Wells Rich Greene. I was charmed by the evocative campaigns of Hal Riney (Publicis Hal Riney). I was amused by the working relationship of Dan Wieden and David Kennedy (W+K) (and enamored with their Northwest offices). I was a little miffed Goodby & Silverstein didn't talk at least a little bit about the account planning that went into Got Milk? (of course). And I was surprised and disappointed not to see anything from advertising celebrity du jour, Alex Bogusky.

I might choose to buy a film like this, if I intended to teach. Otherwise, for inspiration and enrichment, I would be more likely to thumb through an issue of Ad Age or CMYK. Or re-watch Frida.

My next cinematic craving, which may also leave me a bit disappointed, but still happy:

The September Issue!

Labor Day Souvenir

After a wonderfully restful Labor Day weekend in San Francisco (pics on Flickr to come), Shane and I stopped to visit my sister, Lindsey and her family. The kids were super excited to drag us to check out their new favorite local hangout: Big Bubba's BBQ!

The ribs were meaty and good, the staff was super entertaining (crew line dancing and jaw-dropping balloon artist), but the memory that is staying with me to this day is the mechanical bull. Apparently my niece and nephews have become quite adept at riding this sucker to the blaring beats of Black Eyed Peas and T.I. Of course, they talked their uncle into giving it a go.

I now understand why cowboys walk so bow-legged. My thighs are still sore.

Behold, my jerky,awkward shame:

(thank you Shane and Apple's I Phone for documenting this. I is ignominy?)

R-E-S- . . . P-S-S?**

Research. Who does it? Who cares?

Lately that topic has come up quite a bit in conversation as I have talked to various people in the industry (of advertising).

Sometimes it seems that clients want to use research as a crutch, to validate the proposed campaign, to make decisions for them on what path to take, to help them sleep at night resting comfortably that they will get great ROI (Return-On-Investment. Perhaps one of the most hateful terms to have gotten stuck in my head since entering this dizzy little industry).

I think, for this reason, many creatives and planners have developed something of a resentful relationship towards research. It becomes hampering towards great ideas, diluting creativity, and stymie-ing potential growth. Some planners and creatives I have talked to value infinitely more the power of brilliant intuition.

This intuition comes in particularly valuable when you are called upon to offer keen insights on the spot, without the chance to research a question and assess trends and history. I would, however, counter that great intuition is built upon good research.

Once, long ago, I was fervently dedicated to the idea of becoming a clinical psychologist. People already came to me for advice, and I thought I was pretty darned good at it. I shudder now to think at some of the bad advice I gave. But at the time I thought my intuition was so damned good. It took years of listening to people's problems, studying human behavior in an academic way, going through some of my own life experiences, and taking a step back, pondering, and looking for larger patterns.

Now, when people come to me for advice on relationships, I think I can reliably say my intuition is pretty good. I can quickly look at a situation/dynamic and assess the key issues. Often, I can even offer a really good solution. But this quick intuition has been fed by years of research and analysis.

Ultimately what is intuition, but what is latently within us. And you can only get out of something what you put into it.

Some planners reading this will be quick to observe this is why we often want planners with a wide breadth of experiences, because they can draw upon those experiences to feed their intuitive problem-solving. Life experiences, reading, and deep pondering are definitely forms of research.

But I think we should not be quick to negate other structured forms of qualitative and quantitative research as incredibly valuable to the creative process. Research results from these endeavors can significantly expand our thinking beyond our limited experiences. Sometimes it is just about the right question. We see surprising data that maybe did not fit with our preconceived thinking, but suddenly that puzzle piece makes sense in the whole scheme.

I think therein lies the key to good empirical research feeding the creative process of advertising: asking the right question. Asking the question that probably no one else has thought to ask. It is asking these kinds of questions that has led to some of our great breakthroughs in thinking: air-borne germ theory, a helio-centric planetary system, pizza-on-a-bagel means you can have pizza anytime!

In all seriousness, as a former academic, I value good research and the insights it can bring, but, as a creative person, I know that the best solutions often involve an element of risk, of trying out something that cannot be proven to be fail-safe. And that is bad news to the business suits who want security blanket solutions.

**SPSS . . . the statistics analytics tool. R-E-S-P-E-C-T . . . the Aretha Franklin song . . . never mind.