Archive for May, 2007

PhotoAlmost finished here in Poland.  I present tomorrow and leave June 1st.  So this is a time to muster last thoughts. 

There are some mysteries here that will never be clarified.  Why, for instance, the skies above Polish cities should be a pandimonium of swallows.  My home town has about 8 swallows.  10 tops.  Krakow has many thousands.  The city square is an air show.  No one pays them the slightest attention, but the swallows don’t care.  They keep turning in fly-boy maneuvers you have to see to believe and even then you don’t believe.

The other mystery is what the Poles do to deserve such abundant plant life in the home.  Even homes occupied by homemakers who work 50 hours a week outside the home (and there are a lot of these).  Beautiful plants.  Abundant plants.  Gorgeously flowering plants.  Here too no one much remarks upon them.  Women just shrug, accept my  compliment, and change the topic.  I began by thinking, "the Poles love plants," and ended, swallow like, concluding, "plants love the Poles." 

I think part of the answer is that when you ask them about plants, they don’t talk decoration, or color schemes, they talk about the "pleasure" of plants with a certain gusto that is, apparently, not lost on the plants, one of which, a cascading something or other, was, I am quite certain, listening to the interview with more than ordinary interest and possibly also taking notes.  (I could be wrong on this last point.)

And here’s another thing.  Polish women can turn in 2 hours of detailed discussion of family life, and never mention their husbands.  Not once.  If you didn’t know better, you would assume they were single parents. 

But the final mystery is why this country would suit the Elizabethan Sir Francis Bacon so completely.  Sir Francis is of course famous for his creation of a way of thinking about the world that invites, demands, a swift departure from received wisdom and a willingness to sail off into new ideas.  (Why don’t we read this guy?  He is at least as illuminating as Tom Peters.  He was Peters before Peters.)  This project has taken me to Russia, China, Mexico, France, Germany, and Belgium, but it is chiefly here that people feel as if they nurture a restless disregard for the rule book and a willingness to try…something, think…something. 

I’ll give you a trivial example.  I am writing this in the lounge of my hotel, and for some reason this place is always playing the sound track from Hollywood pictures.  And at first you think, whaaa?  And then you realize this is a pretty effective importation of well formed meanings.  It works in a post modern way, the mundane realities of a man furiously blogging against the companionable EZ grandeur that Hollywood music does so well.  (At the moment, it’s a spaghetti Western theme.  A moment ago, it was something from a Bond picture.  Has blogging ever seemed so, um, unheroic, so  under exerted?  I don’t think so.)

There are some cultures that do this sort of thing, we know this.  All Western cultures do it at least a little.  It’s how we get from the now to the next.  But Polish rest on culture as if on sufferance, as if waiting any opportunity or provocation to take their leave of it.  I am exaggerating, I’m sure.  And, God knows, I am no expert.  I am not so much the accidental tourist, as that accidental anthropologist, engaged in a kind of "drive by" ethnography.  If I don’t hear it from a Polish homemaker, I’m not hearing it.  (And certainly much of what I hear is pearls before swine.)

Well, I have some school boy history to call upon and this tells me that Poland has suffered constant occupation and interference.  And this would be a perfect receipe for cultural skepticism.  Sure, there’s a conventional notion, a received wisdom, but it is in this case usually some one else’s wisdom, Russia, or German, those to neighbors who keep visiting their imperial ambitions on Poland. 

In this world it makes perfect sense to accept the status quo as something from which departure is not just a good idea, but a necessary one.  And if there is anything to this, it would suggest that we should look at the history of occupied cultures for traces of a "transgressive" tendency.  Well, yes, and no.  In Sicily, constant occupation by others, leads not to conceptual departure but to the creation of secret societies, a cosa nostra, an our thing concealed from view.  In Canada, it leads to a rigid, almost frightened, compliance.  Someone knows how the world works, but, clearly, it’s not nous.

Which brings me to Izrael Kalman Poznański.   Here’s a guy that turned Lodz into a center of textile production at the end of the 19th century.  The picture above is his factory, now reconstructed as a shopping plaza, with some reconstruction, as you can see on high, still to go.  You look at the home he created for himself in the city, and you can’t quite believe your eyes.  The sheer scale of his wealth is unmistakable and that tells a visitor from North America, that something astonishing happened here.  You begin by wondering what it was exactly he turned to his advantage.  Was it a technological invention, control of a trade route, control of a raw material, Poznański’s  extraordinary gift of intelligence applied to enterprise, the sudden appearance of new consumer taste and preference?  What? 

And then you realize, it had to be all these things.  This is one of those multiplicative deals, where everything is right, and everything then concatenates in the production of an astonishing production of wealth.  If we were to diagram this concatenation, it would look like swallows, lots of them.  It’s as if when Pozandski stepped off, the world rose up to supply a step in a continal staircase, every support magically appearing just as he needed it.  Call it self organizing.  Call it emergent.  Call it dynamism.  But even these ideas designed to take account of order we can’t see before the fact, even these ideas that fulfill the Baconian vision of the possible, don’t do justice to what he accomplished.   

And here’s the mystery at the heart of these mysteries.  When you ask the Poles to tell you about Pozanski, what you get are general, almost glib, accounts of the guy as an industrialist and an exploiter.  (Pozanski was one of the people Marx and Engels were talking about in their defamations of capitalism.)  What you don’t get is precisely you, as an American, expect to get: a passionate, "here’s the secret," account of what happened.  And this is when you realize how much the spirit of enterprise and dynamism has penetrating the ground water of American culture.  We are all, as Americans, the enthusiastic students of how economic miracles happen.  Ask anyone about George Eastman or Bill Gates, and you get something less than a lesson in economic history but something more than "well, he was an industrialist."

Poland is waiting to take possession of it’s Baconian heritage.  The horror of the holocaust systemically murdered some of the people prepared to seize it.  (I can’t tell you how empty these streets are.  How much is missing.  How much damage was inflicted on Poland [and the species] by those invaders from the West.  Really, it fills you with rage and something like delirium.)  But it’s here, a Baconian willingness waiting for its restoration.  Germany sought to erase Warsaw.  They destroyed most of the city.  Russia attempted an obliteration of its own.  But I think it’s still here.  You only have to listen to a Polish housewife…and her plants…and those swallows.

Acknowledgements

I am dedicating this post to Barbara Pomorska for her superb translation on the Polish segment of this research project.  If you are working in Poland, and especially if you are doing ethnographic work, for God’s sake, hire this woman. 

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May
28

here’s how great Poland is

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Img_2292 Just seconds ago, I was checking in at the desk of my hotel, and I found myself standing beside Marzena (eyes right).

And, what ho, there’s something on her upper arm.  Why, it’s a tattoo. 

By golly, if it’s not…

"Hey," I say in my most charming voice, "what is that?"

"It’s a double helix," Marzena says, matter of factly.

"Double helix!" I exclaim.  I’m a smooth talker.   "What, did you study that in school?"

"I studied history," Marzena says.

It turns out that Marzena is in the lobby of my hotel because her car has broken down in the hotel garage, and she is, at the moment, asking the hotel clerk to call her a tow truck. 

Img_2293 "It’s not finished," she says.

"What?"

"The tattoo.  It’s not finished." 

A work in progress, then.  I’ve sat in the Cambridge pub, the Eagle, where Watson (or was it Crick?) pulled out the X-rays and wondered whether this might represent the discovery of the secret of life.   

And now it’s a double helix on the arm of a girl who can’t get her car out of a Lodz garage.    The passage took 55 years: X-ray (1952) to tattoo (2007).   

And I ask you.  When tattoos went mainstream in the 1990s, everyone thought real hard about how to get something "totally interesting."  Dolphins, dragons, death heads, yawn.   Marzena had a better idea.

May
25

the Law & Order of Ethnography

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Law_and_order_ii Anyone who has seen a Law & Order episode knows the drill.  McCoy is asking a perfectly innocent question, when his legal adversary leaps up to exclaim,

Objection, your Honor, argumentative!

Apparently, you can’t try to strong-arm your witness into consenting to your point of view.  On this point, the ethnographer could not agree more. There’s no point bullying the respondent.  Indeed, the point of the exercise is to excavate their point of view, with the tiny pick and brush of the finely worded question. 

But consider these other legal objections.  Perfect for the court of law, and entirely wrong for the ethnographic interview. 

Objection, your Honor, asked and answered!

This objection is lodged when someone is asking a question that has already been, well, asked and answered.

But the ethnographer is always vulnerable to this charge.  We ask a question, we come back to the question, we ask for endless, ever more particular, clarifications of the question.  We do go on.  That’s our job.  Opposing counsel can just shut up and pay attention. 

Objection, your Honor, assumes facts not in evidence!

But of course the ethnographer asks questions that assume facts not in evidence.  We are after all looking for culture, a fact that is alway only remotely in evidence, the very thing that must be brought into evidence.  Your honor, I beseech you.  Let me do my job. 

Objection, your Honor, calls for speculation!

Exactly. Why just today, I had a couple of respondents who rose to the intellectual challenge like birds to the air.  I asked them to wonder what their culture was, and why it might be so, and how it is the changes in Poland since 1989 have made a difference.  They speculated like crazy.  A court of law would have been horrified.  The anthropologist was well pleased. 

Objection, your Honor, beyond the scope!

Nothing is beyond the scope.  In order to talk about food, you might want to talk about politics, gender, or architecture, or, as we did today, all three.  Indeed the faster and more fluidly the conversation moves "beyond the scope," the more illuminating is the interview. Apparently, legal discourse must run in channels.  The ethnographer scrambles in all directions. 

Objection, your Honor, calls for hearsay!

Hearsay’s okay.  The ethnographic interview is not particular.  We will use any matter at hand, a badly formed metaphor, a vague inkling, a mere rumor, a thin surmise, a stray observation.  These are all points of departure.  Even the decrepid wharf gives access to the stream. 

Objection, your Honor, leading question!

Well, yes and no, on this one.  Mostly, no.  We want very much to get the respondent talking, and then to follow up from there.  This way the respondent supplies his or her own terms.  The last thing we want to do is to ask the respondent to play back our terms, our logic, our scheme.  On the other hand, we are doing lots of leading.  If we can find a cunning way to bring the horse to water, one that is not leading even as it is, this is exactly what we want.

Objection, your Honor, shamelessly anthropological!

For the grant inquisitor, all these abuses are ok.  I guess this difference, between anthropology and the law, comes down to the fact that the law wishes to ascertain whether or not an event took place while anthropology is not really interested in the veracity of any historical particular but in the architecture of meaning in the context of which all particulars must take place. 

Objection, your Honor, bad tailoring!

I am grateful that the proper setting for anthropological inquiry is not the wainscotted court of law way downtown (always the same town), but the living rooms of respondent thither and yon.  Also, I don’t have to worry about running a press gauntlet on the conclusion of a particularly contentious interview or to being smeared in the press the next day.  Nor do I have to suffer the distraction of assistants who are always as   beautiful as they are brilliant. 

On the other hand, I don’t have to wear Jack McCoy’s suits and for that small blessing I will be forever grateful.

Categories : Ethnography
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Prius_2 This post is about the adoption of the fuel efficient car, specifically the Prius.  I will argue that sales of the Prius (the hostage) are sometimes discouraged by the likes of Arianna Huffington and her supporters (the hostage takers).  I will also argue that this problem can be addressed by the marketer (the hostage rescuer).  To address the problem and the solution we must contemplate diffusion theory, one of the places that anthropology and economics particularly meet. 

Our culture streams with innovation.  But how does "streaming" work? 

Diffusion theories (Simmel in the early days, Rogers in the late) say that innovations "stream" by passing from early adopters to late adopters. Each group has its own motives and its own tolerances for change. Between them, they help draw innovations into the mainstream. 

But how does "passing" work?

Simmel says innovations pass into the mainstream when people imitate  early adopters.  This is the classic operation of the diffusion effect, but there are times when late adopters will not imitate.  This happens when the early adopter flaunts his difference, and rewards himself with self congratulation.  This self-congratulation is read as other-scorn, as if the adopter is saying, "I get it, you don’t."  In this case, the early adopter provokes not admiration but antagonism.  The innovation has been taken hostage.

There is a second case when imitation is not forthcoming, and the innovation is left, in effect, marooned and unassimilable at the far end of the diffusion stream.  In this case, people regard the innovation as puzzling and strange.  Certainly, novelty always has a small current of oddity running through it.  (It would not be novel otherwise.)  But in this case we are talking about innovations that remain opaque, a hostage of another kind.

Simmel’s "imitation" effect does not work in either case.  In fact, the would-be "late adopter" wants nothing to do with the innovation, which remains antagonizing or unsettling.  Or to put this in the language of another marketing model, the innovation is blank of meaning, or inhabited with someone else’s meaning.  Adoption is unlikely.  Captivity is assured.

Marketing to the rescue.  Our job is to find meanings for the innovation that are intelligible, palatable and interesting.  To do this, we could assemble a room full of ad agency creatives.  The other possibility is to see if the early adopters have created meanings other than that of self congratulation.

And this is precisely what was done by Heffner, Kurani, and Turrentine in a recent article on Hybrid Electric Vehicles, specifically the Prius.  H, K and T interviewed 25 Prius owning family, almost all of them in California.  (See the link below for the article and a PDF of the article.  I am still in Warsaw and a little under the gun, timewise. Otherwise, I would break it out for you.) 

Some of the results were predictable.  Some owners drove their cars as a badge of environmental virtue.  And predictably some of them intended their cars as a repudiation of the SUVs with which they shared the highway, a kind of "I’m environmentally sensitive and you’re not" kind of message.  (Actually, sometimes the Huffington driver can send a more strident message, something closer to, "I’m environmentally sensitive, and you are an enemy of the planet.") This is of course precisely the problem, and the thing that antagonizes the late adopter and maroons the innovation. 

But Heffner, Kurani, and Turrentine found respondents cultivating other, less divisive meanings.  For one respondent, the Prius was a compelling choice because it meant that America would sent less money overseas, and gain independence from foreign governments hostile to the US.  This same respondent believed that his choice of a Prius "sent a message" to the American manufacturers of cars, chiding them for having been too slow in developing hybrid technology.  It was also a way to punish the American gas lobby. 

This consumer created meaning moves briskly away from environmental issues into political ones, and there is, I believe, a much larger, constituency for this meaning than there is for the environment.  The marketer could take this up and run with it.  Certainly there is something a little Alice-in-wonderland about promoting Japanese cars on the grounds that it’s good for American interests.  But, hey, it’s for the planet, man. 

A couple was enamored of how quiet the Prius was at low speeds.   They called their "stealth mode."  This is really lovely.  This is a couple out for a little drive, noticing something about their car, reaching for metaphor, and coming back with a little bit of drama that makes driving more fun.  It is for them moment the kind of play that couples share.  (Pam and I have constructed a life out of these little moments, as every couple does.)  But in the right agency hands, this is the stuff on interesting creative, which creatives could "air lift" the Prius out of Huffington self righteousness with a single 30 second spot. 

A third consumer saw his Prius as the perfect car for someone in the technology field, in his phrase, a "geek-a-rific" car.  This consumer was concerned that the Prius would identify him as a "tree hugger" and took pains to emphasize the technological advantage of his car by driving it with his foot to the floor.  Splendid.  In this case, the consumer is actively engaged in the very problem that concerns the marketer.  This may not be the best way of addressing the issue, but it reassures us that our strategy is not altogether mistaken. 

There are several points to make here.

1) That the diffusion effect sometimes comes undone.  Imitation is not forthcoming.  The early adopter has hijacked the the innovation, so to make it cosa nostra (our thing), a party to which others are not invited.  Would-be late adopters are antagonized.   Adoption is slowed. 

2)  When this happens, it is up to the marketer to intervene.  Good ethnographic research will reveal other meanings that "work" for the innovation, but do not have the effect of antagonizing the consumer. We are looking for the acts of symbolic "re-production" with which the consumer has reimagined the innovation.  Now, the communications task is to transship these meanings to the would-be late adopter, running an end-run around the cosa nostra, Huffington gang. 

3) I believe this hunt for palatable meanings is the unofficial practice in marketing.  Certainly, it is a part of  my professional practice as a consulting anthropologist.  I spend a lot of time listening to active consumers talk about the ways they have engaged with the product or brand, that these meanings might be build back into the product or the brand. 

4) So there is a way in which marketers honor this strategy in a de facto way.  But it’s not clear to me that theory has caught up here. Mind you, diffusion theory has been shocking neglected, both in the b-schools and the social sciences.

5) We might think of this as an act of hostage rescue.  What we are doing is saving the innovation from the meanings lavished upon them by the early adopters.  In a way this is fully consistent with the consumer centric mission of marketing, and the conviction that our products and services can’t be "about us" but must instead be about the consumer.  Except in this case, when we say it’s "not about us," we are also struggling to make sure the product or service is "not about them," i.e., the Huffingtons of the world.

6) Come to that, I wonder if this sort of thinking might not prove useful for the Democratic party and it’s presidential hopefuls.

References

Heffner, Reid, Kenneth S. Kurani, Thomas S. Turrentine.  2007.  Symbolism in Early Markets for Hybrid Electric Vehicles.  Institute of Transportation Studies, University of California, Dais, Research Report UCD-ITS-RR-07-01. here.

Last note:

For those following my travels in Europe, I leave Warsaw today for Kracow, I think it is.  On the other hand, it could be Lodz.  I will let you know when I get there. 

Categories : Marketing Watch
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May
20

Mystery in a Polish graveyard

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Img_1894Who was Nat Litinger?  And when did he die? 

The second question should be easy.  We are looking at his grave stone.  (Click on the image.)

   N A T  L I T I N G E R
           OF NEW YORK
PASSED AWAY IN WARSAW
                        POLAND
      ON SEPTEMBER 1, 1939
          HE IS RESTING NOW

But look again at the year.  It can be read as

1939

or as
Img_1895_2
1932.

Here’s the date close up:

Something happened.  Either the 9 got changed to a 2, or the 2 became a 9.  My guess is that the number began as a 2.  Notice that its barrel (right term?) is much smaller than that of the unambiguous 9 in the series.  It began as a 2, I think, and someone closed the upper line on itself. 

Mr. Litinger’s date of death was first given as September 1, 1932, and someone made it September 1, 1939.

Who?  My guess is that the stone cutter forgot himself.  The year is 1939, but he makes a mistake and he wishes on Mr. Litinger an early death.  This is a benign slip, and in the historical circumstances,  a compassionate one. 

September 1, 1939 marks the official beginning of the German invasion of Poland and World War II.  Warsaw was subject to bombardment from this day onwards.  (The attack on the city began September 9, and a siege was imposed September 14.)  Nat Litinger died on the day that the war started and Warsaw was first attacked. 

For all we know, Mr. Litinger was a victim of the bombardment.  The stone cutter wishes on him another end, another date, another death.  He does this, of course, accidentally, at the very moment that a stone cutter must be most careful.  And now contemplating this record  of his misery, he has to stop and put it right.  Forget the professional embarrassment, and this is of course considerable, this is a man observing the most concrete evidence of what he really feels…at close to the very moment, the start of the Nazi invasion, he’s trying hardest not to feel Img_1841it. 

I found Mr. Litinger’s headstone today in a cemetery on the south side of Warsaw.  This cemetery doesn’t actually look like a cemetery.  Not now.  It looks this (image right).  (Click on the image if it’s hard to see.)

There are no grave stones in this cemetery. 

This because the Nazis took them.  It is one of the aspects of Nazi Warsaw from which head and heart scramble away in a sheer animal panic.   You hear what the Nazis did.  In this case, you can see what the Nazis did.  But this is a serial holocaust, an effort to exterminate not only the living but the dead. You can’t imagine soldiers (prisoners?) coming here and knocking down thousands upon thousands of grave stones.  And what if you did imagine it?  You’d be trapped and you couldn’t ever get back.  You would have tipped into their insanity or your own.   
Img_1863
A little further on, we find some of the headstones reduced to a virtual rubble (image right).  Apparently, headstones were used by the Nazis to pave roads, so we may be looking at the ones that were assembled but not yet used.  (The "concentration camp" principle at work even here: things brought together for eventual "relocation.")  Or, it is possible that these are stones discovered in and around Warsaw and then brought back to cemetery, only to be, shockingly, dumped.  We expect barbarism from the Nazis, this is what they were, but not from those who follow them. 

In fact, these stones, now some 60 years after the war, might as well be warehoused.  There is one small corner of the cemetery where it looks as if someone attempted to return some 30 stones to a circle.  Here and there, stones have been propped up as they might have been in the pre-Nazi era.  Mostly, these stones are as if stockpiled. 

Mr. Litinger’s is one of these.  Just lying there.  Next to the path.  You see the date.  As you pass by, out of the corner of your eye, you try to fix it.  It’s a 2.  It’s a 9.  It’s a 2.  It’s a 9.  Keep walking.  Lots of things in this world make no sense.  Just keep going.  Because there’s a vicious undertow here, and the moment you dwell on it, you can kiss your sanity good bye. 

But this headstone is in English and most others of course in Hebrew.  Clumsy, Scottish, Canadian, Protestant, needy, Anglophone, here’s a stone that speaks to me!  And Nat Litinger, that’s a name I feel I’ve seen before.  (And why is it in English, anyhow? Only because Mr. Litinger was born in New York?)  So you stick on the 2 that’s a 9 that’s a 2.  (How apt that what I can read should read dyslexicly, when, surely, the Hebrew would be limpid.) No, that’s not why I stick on it.  I stick on it for the same reason the stone cutter did.  Because if the 9 is a 2, well, if only the 9 were a 2.  If only time and stone were the same.

References

See the Wikipedia entry on the invasion of Poland here

Categories : Continuities
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May
18

Warsaw

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Img_1670 This is sort of an experiment.  I am at the end of my first day in Warsaw and my head is tumbling with impressions and I thought I would share them in a manner less rehearsed and less premeditated than is customary here at This Blog Sits At.   (This is another way of saying, "here’s the data, you sort it out.")  I am drinking and, thanks to another guy at the bar, smoking, so this is  discourse that is both alcohol and nicotine assisted (aka diminished).  (Blame Russell and Twitter.)

Warsaw.  As a naive North American, I am inclined to put Poles and Ruassians in the same category, but day 1 tells me how naive this is.  Many of the Russians I interviewed for this project seemed to suffer a condition of astonishment at the trick history had played on them.  They were, it seemed to me, as if waiting for the next foot to fall, with the possibility that footfalls were over and that it was all cat’s feet after this, small directions, hard to appreciate really, with an adaptive strategy (read critical path) that nows look like hundreds, perhaps thousands, of tiny course corrections over the course of a life time.  Ok, the less critical path.  We Americans take this for granted.  This is what it is to have seen the latest Old Christine or Spiderman…and thousands of little clues we take from this, that and the other thing.  Ah, ok, we say, so it’s this…until the next this, that, or the other thing.  Poles get this.  They flourish in a world that forsakes  directions from on high and marching orders below. 

The Polish, at least the three of them I talked today (and since when has an anthropologist refused the opportunity to make this slender part to speak for every single person in the whole) are all about tiny adjustments as driven by, and this was the surprising part, an active curosity, and optimism, a pleasure in the change.  As North Americans we are well fed on Saturday Night Live "wild and crazy guy" stereotypes that would make the Polish the latest guests to a party that has moved uptown.  We couldn’t be more wrong.  There is more here than imagined by our philosophy.  Sorry. 

To understand this world, we want to think more in terms of Conrad and Malinowksi, those Poles (novelist and anthropologist, respectively) who effortlessly mastered English prose and other cultures (not respectively).  I’m tryng to think of the Conrad that opens with a magnificent evocation of time and place.  It’s not Heart of Darkness.  He talks about a port.  And you’re there.  It’s a little like Hardy talking about the heath, opening pages so powerful you read remaining pages out of gratitude, and the certain knowledge that the fun is over.  It was the opening.  Poland is about the opening pages.   Not investing, necessary, but getting the opening engagement so perfectly that any number of things are possible. 

I wonder if that’s Poland now.  I did an interview with a woman who had adorned the interview in everyway imaginable.  She had added a guite stirring white blondness to her hair, she had contacts that gave her eyes a striking blueness, her coat had a black fur ruff, her shirt was a fetching pink, her pants were covered with slogans and speech (I didn’t try to read every word but, you know, hey), her shoes too were pink.  And she was, it turned out, gilding the lily.  Quite beautiful, actually more beautiful without.  But as I talked to her I came to think of all of these aesthetic gestures as a SETI search for life out there.  Try everything, because it’s hard to know what might work.  Broadcast on every frequency, because you are not afraid that some, perhaps all, signal(s) might return.  We will work this out  as Sahlins used to say, on the cushion.  We have some play.  We’ll play with the play. 

This is a statement of one’s absolute confidence in one’s powers of adaptation and assimilation.  What’s out there?  Send it here.  Don’t protect me.  Don’t, for God’s sake, manage me.  This is why this managed economy and culture must have seemed like such an outrageous imposition.  Russians, like they have a clue!  Managing the world for us, please! 

And this may be why they were first out of the Soviet box.  The conventional notion, I know, is that Stalin, to get Poland in place, was obliged to give farmers and small enterpreneurs the right to keep some, more, of the value they created than was allowed in other parts of his gulag.  So a talent for capital accumulation and management was there, and not snuffed out.  But I wonder if there isn’t a talent for dynamism was there first.   Why is the world so very comforting with our stereotypes in place and so much more  interesting when we give them up?  No, it’s not rhetorical.  I’m asking.  Or as we say in New York City, "I’m asking here!"

And the low point of the day.  I stood at the station where 300,000 Jews, all of them, as nearly as I could tell, from this very neighborhood, borded a train and were transported to camps.  This is not a place you want to be, a human forced to bear witness to the horror of which his species is capable. 
And it’s not the place you want to be if you are even a little empathic and you can imagine what you clothes smelled like as you were brought aboard.  You are overdressed!  But of course you are, because your body is now a means of transport.  Pack what you can, wear what you must.   The capitivity starts here, in the heat coming up. What else?  What more?  Apparently, the Nazis kept up the fiction of  "relocation" until the very last.  You are talking, terrified but talking, you are managing your emotions and those of your mother, your father, your children, everyone is pitching in, everyone is freaking out. It’s not so bad.  It’ll be okay. 

May
17

The BBC discovers cloudiness

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Montreal_by_woolford Thanks to PSFK, I am reading Bill Thompson’s recent account of life online. 

Transparency, he says, that’s the key.  Bill’s Facebook account exposes his friendship networks to public view.  30Box gives away his calendar.  Twitter advertises his location.  Flickr reveals his photographs which in turn reveal much more.  Bill has alternative selves on evidence on Second Life, and accounts at Orkut, LiveJournal, and Bebo. 

As he says, "…there’s little of me left to expose," and so confirms Piers Fawkes argument that privacy may prove something treasured by the 20th century only, perhaps, to be forsaken in the present one. 

But what really got my attention is Bill’s conviction that his life has assumed a certain cloudiness.

As I spread myself around over the network, updating my Facebook profile, commenting on MySpace, flying through Second Life, blogging, twittering, updating my calendar and posting photos and videos and audio I am finding a new way to be Bill Thompson.

We have yet to glimpse the consequences of cloudiness.  Bill, for one, isn’t sure what will become of him,  and resorts to the third person to ask, "I wonder what he’ll be like?"

I think Thompson has it right.  The issue here should not be restricted to the intellectual’s traditional lamentation that old categories are at risk.  The issue is to ask what must happen to identity and human nature in the new regime. 

References

Fawkes, Piers.  2007.  2007 Trends: Privacy Epiphany (Red coat, Black coat).  PSFK, January 4, 2007.  here.

McCracken, Grant.  2007.  Cloudiness: of selves, groups, networks and ideas.  This blog sits at the intersection of anthropology and economics.  January 31, 2007.  here.

Thompson, Bill.  2007.  Finding myself through online identities. BBC News.  May 14, 2007.  here.

Afterword

This would be a good place to notice that PSFK is holding its London conference on June 1, see http://psfklondon.eventbrite.com and www.psfk.com for more details

Speakers and panelists include: George Parker, Russell Davies, Johnny Vulkan (Anomaly), Martin Cole , Jessica Greenwood (Contagious Magazine), Iain Tait (Poke), Dan Hon (Mind Candy), Jeremy Ettinghausen (Penguin), Beeker Northam (Bloom), Faris Yakob (Naked), Simon Sinek (Sinek Partners), Steven Overman (Lowe Worldwide), Justin Quirk (EMAP), Niku Benaie (Naked), John Grant, Diana Verde Nieto (Clownfish), Tamara Giltsoff (OZObrand), Stan Stalnaker (Hub), James Cherkoff, Regine Debatty (WM$NA) and Mike Butcher.

Categories : cloudiness
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Mccracken_as_el_greco_by_face_morph Recently, I was talking with a friend about Geoffrey Frost, the man who saved Motorola in 2004 with that stellar act of corporate innovation (and rehabilitation): the Razr. 

We can measure the value Frost created any number of ways, but yesterday, Motorola’s CEO Ed Zander announced that Motorola would sell it’s 100 millionth Razr in the next few weeks.  (The spectacular success of this little phone has not protected Motorola from hard times and much now depends on the Razr 2 announced yesterday.)

My friend and I were speculating that one of the things that may have "got" Frost was his extraordinary travel schedule.  And indeed a couple of days ago, sitting in my hotel room, I watched a documentary on the National Geographer photographer Joe Satore, in which the costs of constant travel were explored.  There was a particularly poignant scene in which National Geographer photographers talked about returning home after long trips to discover that their spouses now talked about "my house" (not "our") and even "my kids."

And I sat there thinking, how can we commit so many people to a life of constant travel and have so little idea of the precise costs or the best remedies?  I mean, what is wrong with us?  Where is the self-help book called "life on the road: how to survive and prosper."  We have (I’m guessing) a book called, The Corgi Manual: how to breed the best and the brightest.  Many of our best and brightest spend most of their lives at 31,000 feet.  How is it that life on the road remains an undiscovered continent?

Clearly, anyone on the road at the moment has advantages that Geoffrey did not.  Twitter and Dopplr give us the company of fellow travelers. Email, Skype and Google Talk make staying in touch easier and cheaper. Virtual fellowship can never substitute for the deeper, denser social contacts at home, but it is not always a poor substitute. 

Here is one of my Twitter entries from Mexico:

finished presentation in Mexico City, it went well, and now to the bar, where celebration and oblivion will compete for my attention.

From Brussels:

hammering away at presentation in Brussels hotel room, CNN & BBC chattering away in the background. Must get out. Must go for walk.

An hour later, the entry reads:

Great walk, 5 story streets, light falling like rain, which was falling gently too. Building boom here in 1885, some Deco, some modernism :)

Too arty, I know.  But you only have 80 characters. 

And tonight:

4.5 hours of presentation, with a 5 minute break. it went well, thanks for asking, very well, I think. But then you never know.

Not as witty as Russell Davies: 

Recovering from swim by dozing in sales conference.

[and]

at the front of the gatwick transit train, pretending to be the driver.

Not as in the moment, as Bowbrick:

Pause for a moment and celebrate with me the BEST PARKING SPACE IN CENTRAL LONDON!

But Twitter is a way to declare myself to others in a world that is a little shy of others.  And it is interesting to know that fellow anthropologist Jan Chipchase is ping ponging between continents, and that Russell Davies is about to board a train in London.  I mean, it’s not precisely what we mean be "human contact" but it’s something. 

Hotels are getting in on the action.  One of them, I think it was in Mexico but it might have been Berlin, is aggressively promoting a cocktail hour to which all guests were invited, and I wondered what kind of party might come from this accidental constellation of people. Could be vastly better than the cocktail party inflicted on us at a professional conference.  The best connections are often accidental ones. 

But the hazards of life on the road are not just for travelers anymore.  Compared to, say, an English villager in the 13th century we are, all of us, in transit even when safe and sound at home.  The Heraclician (sp?) stream streams ever faster.  So we all have a vested interest in solving this problem. 

I don’t actually know how Geoffrey Frost died.  But implication suggests that he killed by his style of life, by service to the corporation, by the "thin air" at 31,000 feet.  (His widow committed suicide a couple of weeks ago, a victim perhaps of his victimhood.) There are an awful lot of people at risk on the road.  Surely, between us, we can think of a better way of doing this.  All of these people are ferocious problem solvers and creative as can be.  Marketer, save thyself.  I mean, it’s been a long while since we talked about the glamor of the "jet set."  Maybe it’s time that we acknowledge that this sort of travel is actually as dangerous as life at Studio 54 at the height of its excesses. 

Reference

Homans, George C.  1941.  English Villagers of the Thirteenth Century.  Boston: Beacon.  (I’m guessing on the publisher.  It could be Norton.  I have a fauxtographic memory, you see.  Quite detailed in its recall, but often wrong.)

McCracken, Grant.  2005.  Remembering Geoffrey Frost.  This blog sits at the intersection of anthropology and economics.  December 19,2005.  here.

McCracken, Grant.  2007.  Off Duty Pants.  This blog sits at the intersection of anthropology and economics.  April 4, 2007. here.

McCracken, Grant. 2007.  Consulting under the influence.  This blog sits at the intersection of anthropology and economics.  April 11, 2007. here.   

Stone, Brad.  2007.  New Motorola Phones Aim at High-End Market.  The New York Times.  May 16, 2007. here

Categories : On the road
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May
11

A wee hiatus

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Picture_077I didn’t think it was possible to get this tired, but after several weeks of ethnographic interviews in Hamburg, Frankfurt, Berlin, Brussels, Paris, Mexico City, Guadalajara and Monterey, I have discovered my limit. 

I have a couple more weeks of interviews coming up  (in Warsaw, Lodz, and Krakow), and I think a small break in blogging is called for. 

If I can post from Poland, I will. 

Categories : Continuities
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May
07

Dopplr takes a lead in social networks

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Dopplr_logo_3 The thing about traveling a lot is that friends cease to believe in your existence.  In the 1990s, I would meet someone in the street in Toronto (then my home town) and they would say, "Hey!  Grant!  What are you doing here?"

It’s no good saying, "I live here," because your friends have hard empirical evidence that this is not true.  They haven’t seen you in a month or so.  They haven’t seen anyone who’s seen you.

Networks take renewal.  And the node that’s you on the net…it stopped blinking some time ago.  The vibrations that eddy back and forth are now quiet. 

Your friends can see you standing there before them, but they prize their network intelligence more surely than the evidence of their senses.  Their eyes might deceive them.  The hum of the network, never!

Saved by technology.  Now, Dopplr gives us a way to keep track of one another on line.  If you give me permission, I can see the map that describes your movements for the next 30 days or so.  If we are going to be in London at Russell Davies’ Interesting2007 in June, it will tell me so.

So far, Dopplr maps show only one person on the map at once.  But eventually, when capacity ramps up, the Dopplr map will show me everyone in my network, all those people engaged in all those projects skipping about the globe, color coordinated for easier management. 

And yes, it will make a difference to those face-to-face encounters in the streets of my home town.  I will see "Richard" standing there before me, but unless I have been tracking him on line, he will be a pale and ghostly presence, the poor man who exists only in the real time and space.

There are lots of social networking plays out there at the moment: Twitter, Jaiku, LinkedIn, to name a few.  I believe that the first one to create a really good "cloud" that gives us a way visually to monitor and manage our connection wins.  Advantage, Dopplr. 

Post script:

Dopplr is pretty new and it is for the moment a "by invitation" network only.  But hey, you’ve got to someone who belongs.  Use your network.   (Hillary is right: It takes a network to build a network.)

Acknowledgments:

Thanks to Pip Coburn and Jerry Michalski for the head’s up.   

Categories : cloudiness
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Img_1078 First, it was Mary Minnick, who resigned as The Coca-Cola Company’s VP of Marketing, Strategy and Innovation.  This week it was Esther Lee, TCCC’s senior VP and chief creative officer.  Minnick went into retirement.  Lee is CEO of EURO RSCG Worldwide.

Two fabulously talented marketers, gone. 

And what happens now? According to AdAge,

Chairman-CEO Neville Isdell assumed oversight for Coke’s strategy and innovation group, and marketing moved under President-Chief Operating Officer Muhtar Kent. … Coke’s North American unit was restructured in March, decentralizing marketing and shifting brand stewardship to newly named president-general managers for three business units.

Now Isdell isn’t remarkable for his mastery of marketing.  Kent, well, Kent is an Operating Officer.  This means the Coca-Cola Company appears once more on the verge of compromising its marketing.  Isdell’s predecessor, Daft did this in 2000, casting to the winds a deeply talented Atlanta team on the grounds that there were local marketing teams around the world TCCC could fall back upon.

Without marketing, Coke, the product, the portfolio of products, is sweetened water.  Without marketing to create new meanings and to renew old meanings, the brand begins to wither and die.  And I thought TCCC had a go at this recently.  The category, challenged by water, juice, sports drinks, is shrinking.  Competitors multiply.  Pepsi gets stronger.  The little brands grow more numerous and more nimble.  Is this the time for another disaspora of talent?

The field of marketing is undergoing a revolution that takes it out of the stupidities of the old world into strategies that are new, difficult, and ever changing.  (See the post for yesterday, please.)

This is to say that marketing has always mattered to the Coca-Cola Company, and it especially matters now.  Perhaps this is not the time to replace good marketers with non marketers.  I mean, if I were a shareholder and I discovered that the marketing team was being once more diminished, I would not be happy. 

Come to think of it, Warren Buffett, one of the great champions of TCCC investment, is now famous for having encouraged the Gecko ads for Geico.  What happens if he starts to ask questions? What if he phones to ask what happened to the marketers? 

"Mr. Isdell, I have Mr. Buffett on line 1."

Oh, oh. 

References

Sanders, Lisa and Kate MacArthur.  2007.  Euro RSCG Taps Coke’s Lee as North American CEO.  Adage.  May 2, 2007.  here.

Categories : Marketing Watch
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May
03

What I think I’m doing in Mexico

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Img_1510 What I’m doing here in Mexico City is trying to save marketing.  No, really.

There was a golden age in the agency world when research, strategy and creativity worked together, and brands were build by smart people working in a happy, reckless free-for-all of creativity.  (Like all mythic creations, this golden age is heavy on the happy.)

Take Chicago just before and after World War II.  Lloyd Warner had taken his position at the University of Chicago in the 30s.  (He’d been a graduate student at Harvard in the period 1929-1935 where he was connected both to the Department of Anthropology and the Business School!  Like that’s ever going to happen again.) Even as Warner was writing books like American Life: Dream and Reality (1953), he was doing commercial work.

With Burleigh Gardner and William Henry, he created a firm in Hyde Park on 53rd street called Social Research, Incorporated (SRI).  This group helped create the focus group, brand image, and other staples of the world of advertising.

Over the next two decades SRI helped to revolutionize the field of  market research, transforming its assumptions, methods, goals, and consequences in ways that quickly redirected the world of advertising…according  to Andrew Abbott, chair of sociology at [the University of] Chicago.

By the time I started doing commercial work in the middle 1980s, things had change, the world had shrunk, joy was largely extinguished. An age of iron now prevailed.  Clearly, dark forces had prevailed.  The free-wheeling days of smart people from different fields working together in the creation of novel approaches, this was pretty much over.  Now people would open marketing meetings with "what’s the hot button here?"

What happened?  Certainly, the b-school continued to treat creativity as an off planet activity.  Most brands were controlled by managers who didn’t know or care about the full value that agencies and research could create.  Wall Street was tightening the screws.  And this discouraged longer term thinking and risk taking.  The agencies themselves often demanded that they be left alone to commune with their gods.  The rich connections and accomplishments of the Chicago world were vanishing.   

"Hot buttons!"  What a grim metaphor.  It casts the consumer has a mechanical device for which the operating manual has gone missing.  How to operate this creature?  Say, let get someone to see if there’s a lever or a button?  Look for something blinking.  Send in the researchers and see.  (There is a Ph.D. thesis waiting to happen here.  Where did the hot button theory come from? Who invented it?  What made the world vulnerable to it?  Surely Warner and SRI would have laughed it out of court.)

In the post-Chicago, post-Warner regime, a cycle of diminishment prevailed. Clients asked less of research, research asked less of the consumer, the corporation asked less of the agency, and of course the consumer was diminished most of all.  Everyone was holding out.  Certain kinds of creativity and innovation were dying out.  Sometimes, I lay the fault with the nuclear winter of positivism that prevailed after World War II.  Everyone was trying to be as much like a scientist as possible.  If marketing professionals could have got a way with lab coats, believe me, they would have.  Science has status.  Marketing was imprecise and pandering.  It is worth pointing out here that it was Chicagoans, academic and industrial, who sustained qualitative methods during the nuclear winter.

At some point, things started to get better.  The corporation came to think of the consumer as a more complicating, interesting, intelligent creature.  Sometimes this was a humanizing gesture.  Sometimes, it was merely a  response to competitive pressure.

Funny advertising happened.  This didn’t mean that the agency or the client cared about sophisticated meaning manufacture, but at least both were now prepared to credit the consumer with a sense of humor (instead of button).  This is the era of Cliff Freeman, among others.  The field of design, thanks to the revolutionary efforts of Jay Doblin made a difference.  Now the consumer was to be consulted (not examined).  Stephen King and account planning happened and eventually found its way to North America.  Some of us began to offer ethnography as a new way to talk to the consumer, and eventually P&G happened, as A.G. Lafley blessed the  method.  And under the stewardship of Russ Belk, Rich Lutz, Philip Kotler, Syd Levy, Michael Solomon, Susan Fournier, John Deighton and Al Silk, to name a few, there emerged better models of the consumer. 

Which brings us to what I think I’m doing in Mexico.  I am in those homes to capture the consumer in some (but not all) of her complexity, to cast the net wide with a series of questions that would horrify the hot button mechanic.  I am asking lots of diverse questions.  I am following the consumer any where she is prepared to take me (by direction or implication).    I am here to advance my clients interests not by finding a hot button, but looking for a match between all of the cultural complexities of the consumers’ life and all the things the brand and the product are or can become. 

Ethnography is pretty good at drawing out the complexity of the consumer.  Not of course in the hands of the bargain basement players or the high-charging methodological pretenders, but when someone knows what they are doing, the method is fecund.  We are going to sit in someone’s home for a couple of hours and listen to them answer a couple of hundred questions.  And every question is potentially a Mississippi.  By asking a simple question, we stumble onto a far tributary and by asking successive questions, we begin to see that we are now moving from detail to "something good."  If we’re lucky, and this only happens once or twice an interview, we end up all the way downstream, connected now to the very delta of this culture.  Now we see what matters.  More important, we know why.  This is the place for the brand to position itself.  This is the place of advantage. 

Will I save the world of marketing?  Well, not single handedly.  But the more we look, the more we find.  And the more we make available to the agency and the client, the better and smarter marketing can get.  Thus does a virtuous cycle replaces the downward spiral.  Everyone gets smarter.  Everyone supplies more value to the next party.  At least, we hope they do. Clients asked more of research, research asked more of the consumer, the corporation asked more of the agency, and all of us, in concert, supply more to the consumer. 

This may seem like an exercise in preaching to the choir.  Surely everyone cares about and has committed to a more sophisticated, value adding marketing!   Um, I’m not so sure about that.  Not if things afoot at the Coca-Cola Company are what they appear to be. Tomorrow, I’ll have a go at this. 

References

Easton, John.  2001.  Consuming Interests.  University of Chicago Magazine.  here.

The Wikipedia entry for Lloyd Warner is here.

Post script:

For those of you who are following my travels, you will note from today’s photo that I am now in Guadalajara.  It has that splashing light of southern California (whereas Monterrey, especially when overcast, had pewter-ish light, which is of course exactly what the heath calls for).   I am received by matrons of the house with the grace and good humor that I received in Monterrey and Mexico City, but I think here, perhaps, people are a little more relaxed.  Still the numbers are too small to risk a generalization of this kind.  One of the joys of interviewing here is that the rooms are usually breezy and bright, the opposite of the Khrushchev kitchens in which the project began, so little, so hot, so little, so hot.   The question is who will win the foot race, the powerpoint deck or the exhaustion that always descends in the second week?   I have my money on the powerpoint deck.      

Categories : Marketing Watch
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May
02

London in June

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Interesting Today is going to be hectic with interviews and travel. 

I hope to post but it will be late, and it might not happen at all. 

In the meantime, I hope I will see you in London on June 16th at Russell Davies’  interesting2007 conference.

The speaker list is here

The Wiki for the conference is here.

I thank Russell for the chance to speak.   He’s encouraging me to talk about the time I was on Oprah.  This would  oblige me to talk about the time I nearly lost control of my bladder on national television.  I don’t know.  I’m ambivalent.  I’ll think of something.  Hope to see you there.

References

McCracken, Grant.  2007.  On Oprah.  In Culture and Consumption II.  Bloomington: Indiana University Press. 

Categories : Continuities
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Img_1332 Can branding learn something from Western ideas of selfhood?  Dude, totally.

In the Elizabethan best seller, The Book of the Courtier, Castiglione recommended that gentlemen fashion the public self with care, and then conceal this care with the appearance of carelessness.  He called this "sprezzatura," the art of concealing art with art.

Castiglione’s Italian countrymen accepted the idea, but it was the English who embraced it with passion (well concealed, of course).  They embraced it, and, as I discovered sleeplessly last night, built upon it.   (For God sake, whatever you do, avoid the Safi Luxury Hotel in Monterrey.  Whew!)

Beau Brummell was the arbiter of 18h century style, and the man usually credited with inventing the suit and tie.

What the wearer is after is a "curious mean" (as Virginia Woolf wrote of Brummell’s jokes) between skill and pure chance. The tying of a cravat involves the rigorous removal of human agency from the final appearance of the fabric: the knot is intentional, but the folds are entirely fortuitous. As Giorgio Agamben has put it, Brummell, "whom some of the greatest poets of modernity have not disdained to consider their teacher, can, from this point of view, claim as his own discovery the introduction of chance into the artwork so widely practiced in contemporary art."

Brummell’s debt to sprezzatura is evident but his approach is new.  This is not art perfected and then concealed. This is a deliberate stepping off, a search for perfection in what cannot be controlled, a betrayal of perfection to consort with its enemy, accident. 

There is of course a great tradition of using chance to create art.  But have we ever used chance to create brands?  Certainly as we embrace new and less controllable kinds of marketing devices (experiential marketing, networking, buzz management, guerrilla marketing, and so on) we embrace chance whether we want to or not. 

Indeed, there has always been something accidental (or accidentful) about marketing.  This must be the reason we used to say things like "I know half of advertising is effective, I just can’t tell which half."  It may also be the reason we used to say things like "release the condor" before the beginning of an ad shoot.  (This comes from an infamous moment when an great bird of flight that was supposed to circle gracefully around a new GM product plummeted to its death. The production team had managed to engage the only species of condor incapable of flight.)

What I mean is that we consider creating brands through the "rigorous removal of human agency"  We must choose the elements with care, but the "folds," the outcome, should be fortuitous.

In this event, the brand message would have to unfold in the moment, and each time a little differently, until, hey presto, perfection for this fleeting moment is achieved.  If this where an ad with several elements, an ad that was constructed more like noir, with complexity and ambivalence.  Sometimes we would see the ad one way, sometimes another. 

The work that Arnold did for Volkswagen in the 1990s, the car traveling through a summer evening. with kids who decide not to get out and go to the party.  The work that Wieden + Kennedy does for Nike also qualifies.  The spot that shows a girl who walks to work without ever touching the ground.  I would watch it a little differently every time, sometimes it was simply odd.  But sometimes it was close to sublime. 

But the elements that come together could be the bits and pieces of a coodinated marketing compaign.  Let’s say I own a Mini.  (I don’t but let’s say.)  Sometimes the social part of the brand experience annoys me, a forced sociality.  Sometimes I kind of like.  Recently, I saw the Hammer and Coop ad and I liked its homage to those deeply stupid Starsky and Hutch productions. These notions are tumbling about in my head when I take my Cooper S out for a spin and suddenly i get it. Suddenly, the brand promise if fulfilled. 

The trick here is to mix lots more elements into the ad or the campaign than we normally do.  And this means mustering our courage and hewing to a course that will test the mettle of every marketing manager.  The old rule of marketing was of course sell that unique selling proposition often and loudly.  Mixing lots of interpretive options into the signal, this is a departure for which some of us are intellectual and emotionally unprepared. 

What we want are brands that invite our involvement and then reward it.  Involvement takes complexity and the willingness to open the brand to a variety of interpretations and the possibility that some of these interpretations will prove a little insipid.  What we are doing here is buying sublime brand moments at the cost of some that are ill formed and unsuccessful.  Let us try out Castiglione’s and Brummel’s advice. I mean, we keep saying that marketing is a conversation.  Perhaps its time to make brands creatures worthy of talking to. 

References

Dillon, Brian.  2006.  A Poet of Cloth.  Cabinet.  Issue 21 (Spring). here.

The Wikipedia entry on sprezzatura, here.

Last note:

The photo above was taken last week in Mexico City.  It kind of works for this post, but what I was thinking when I saw this and other cues for the bus is that this is a photographic project waiting to happen.  Someone should travel the world and take photos of people waiting for public transit.  It’s a great opportunity to observe cultural difference and human sameness, and as we begin to see the importance of diminishing the effects of gas burning engines, it’s germane to one of our most pressing global problems.  Just a thought.      

Categories : Brand Watch
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