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A great new book out entitled “Pantone, The 20th Century in Color” incorporates beautiful color plates with accompanying narrative by authors Leatrice Eiseman and Keith Recker that describe the last 100 years in the evolution of the color spectrum through the lens of the groundbreaking 1963 Pantone color system developed by Lawrence Hebert of Pantone.
The system codified the color spectrum, so that a certain shade of a color can be uniformly agreed upon and unknowingly revolutionized the world of graphic design. One can think back to any decade of the past century and certain colors and hues are easily associated with each time period. Serving as more than a mere color index, the book succeeds in describing the evolution of colors’ social imprint on culture, illustrated through advertisments, product design, fashion and general day-to-day life across generations.
Just close your eyes and visualize the 50s, 60s, 70s or 80s–it’s easy. That’s what’s so great about this book. From a historical perspective, filtered through the nuance of aesthetics, we have each period literally ‘colored in’ for us. Beautiful and simple.
It’s 2012 and the Iraq war is officially over. The cost? High in human toll, money spent and energy expended. Worth the effort? Arguably, yet to be determined. The net effect, other than a new government, well…
Iraqi youth have gone “punky” it seems, the direct effect of their socialization with American troops. A quarter of Iraquis have been born since the U.S. first invaded Iraq in March 2003, with almost half the total population under the age of twenty. A near majority of the population have spent their highly impressionable years in the presence of an occupying force. Though I haven’t personally walked the streets of Baghdad, I’m sure the troops cut a wide and colorful path in the day-to-day life of humble neighborhoods.
“Punky” youth are those that take on the persona of American hip-hop kids from a few years back, replete with baggy hoodies, closely croppped hair fading under back-turned baseball caps, and large fake gold chains. Kind of the fashion cue many an American GI took during their civilian youth in the years leading up to their military life, before being dropped into the ancient lands of the Fertile Crescent.
Punky Iraqis see rapping as a ticket to New York, while they woof down greasy ersatz cheeseburgers and breakdance in city squares. These “hustlers,” another term they claim as their own, realize that to speak like a “gangsta” they need to learn English before they can develop their own rap banter. So, the children of Sadr City wait for months for a place in English classes, in hopes to one day board a plane to the U.S. to visit the home of Lil’ Wayne or at least eat a slice of real New York pizza.
And so, after nearly a decade, young people’s minds in Iraq open to a world beyond, even though the price of admission may be a poorly inked Ghostface Killah tattoo.
I’m starting to think I need to offer clients more. While storytelling is a hot topic right now, I think I’d get in hot water if I designed and wrote in the manner of good storytellers. I’d end up with an upset client and a major re-write on my hands. So what to do? I’m thinking perhaps, like a storyteller, to take a chance and incorporate more involved grammatical structure into my writing style. Elements such as semicolons, rather than banging out simple two-dimensional prose.
The semicolon is rarely used nowadays. I don’t know if people are just less expressive in their use of grammar to represent thought or they just don’t understand the proper use of grammar. I don’t use it in business writing too much, for fear that I’ll appear superfluous. With business writing, we’ve been taught to be surgically concise which unfortunately can make for a dull story; words lose their purpose to provide texture and color.
Semicolons bring about expectations, such that when employed something else is expected to follow. A semicolon offers balance, implying a relationship between two independent clauses. Yet there are no strict rules to the where and when a semicolon can be used. Hence, it promotes the development of thought. The semicolon, like written music, also offers the reader natural progression. Semicolons are akin to developing movements in narrative, stringing together concepts and are the furthest thing from Twitter.
I’ve read that to improve his writing, Hunter S. Thompson, depending on his mood, would type the works of Dos Passos or Steinbeck, just to feel the authors’ physical lilt of their use of grammar. Like a pianist, to get from good to great, practicing the varied works of say Liszt or Copland, to feel the variational transformation of Liszt or the simple pastoral nature of Copland helps to develop one’s own style. Writing, like music, can (and should) set a mood; most of today’s writing is used to simply convery information.
Maybe there’s also something to the physical nature of writing that’s been lost. We no longer use typewriters, and typewriters, like pianos, require more physical expression in their use than a computer. You need to bang on them to squeeze out inspiration. Maybe the PC and iMac are the narrative version of the synthesizer. And what’s the last great work composed on the synthesizer?
So who’s more ‘with it’ – younger or older people? Seems like it depends on what you’re looking for. It appears that at age 20, “fluid intelligence” peaks. The ability to learn quickly, observe patterns, analyze, and retain information is at its zenith. Also, abstract reasoning and puzzle solving are paramount-the ability to dream freely and create dream-like scenarios. Rebellious youth with their heads in the clouds!
Things begin to change as we age, but don’t see it as “selling out” on yourself, it’s a natural process of the shifting of dimensions of intellectual curiosity and cognitive development.
Of note, fluid intelligence is most predominant in those with Aspergers Syndrome (i.e., the piano virtuoso with never contrived C minor/major seventh chords progressions swimming in his head).
When one reaches middle age, said to be early 50s, intelligence becomes grounded in knowledge and experience, not recognition. This type of intelligence utilizes the ability to refine concepts though iterative learning and improvement, to contextualize and find meaning through comparison and analogy. Over time, practice of this type of intelligence is said to positively effect people’s social reasoning and general overall well-being (i.e. the ‘mellowing out’ affect of middle age).
Hence, as we age, we don’t change who are are, we’re still the same ‘us’. We remain true to ourselves and our goals and ideals. It’s how we work our way through the maze of life, acquiring stuff in our heads and moving forward, that changes how we keep moving.
Forget the aesthetic of 180-gram vinyl. So yesterday on yesteryear. And nevermind the Internet when it comes to co-creation and consumer ownership of the creative process. The ultimate music aficionado and audio cultural curator is (still) the master of the mix tape. Yup, the cassette. Never has there been a sign of personal affection and affinity for one’s friends and loved ones than taking the time to blend them a mix tape. It take a lot of thought and even more time. It’s a creative pursuit that aurally profiles one’s persona.
And never has there been more of a resurgence of casette-focused labels than today. Just check out: GoldTimers, Hyperdelic, and Retrograde Tapes to start. And of course the granddaddy of them all, ROIR, who’s been issuing cassettes for over thirty years.
Where unfettered creativity still percolates two standard deviations out, and out of view from most. Personal creativity, created alone, shared with another, small group of friends, or like-minded aficionados.
Yesteryear’s castoffs become our cheap tools to craft new and evocative expression. The personal. The building blocks of aural culture. Like today’s fashion designers surreptitiously trolling vintage stores, picking over yesterday for tomorrow’s haute couture, later reconstituted for the H&M and Target racks.
They never left us, we just think we keep leaving them.
As I watch the American debt crisis circus unfold, it seems to me what really sent the circus reeling was when President Obama told people he couldn’t guarantee Social Security and other government checks would be cut in early August. In other words, the government wouldn’t be handing out money in small amounts to guys and gals like you or me. Forget the billions that are bantered about, it’s when the guy in Toledo doesn’t get his $556 that all hell breaks loose.
Which made me think of what it’s all about: money. Will the money in my pocket be worth any less? And while we all have to admit we like having money worth its face value, why is it we disdain certain denominations to the point that some people don’t even like to receive it? I can easily make a case today for the general clunkiness of the dollar coin (e.g. the Sacagawea, or the earlier Susan B. Anthony) or the confusion brought on by the fifty (i.e. “it’s a fifty, not a twenty!”), it’s the two dollar bill that gets my attention.
I love the two dollar bill. I ask for them at banks and use them in stores as much as I can, for a few reasons. First, I turn a mundane transaction on its head, every store clerk does a double-take and sports a smile and the interaction always ends up being very pleasant. It’s a wink and a nod between two ships passing in the checkout aisle. Second, I think they make great sense in today’s world. Nothing is under a dollar. Cheap stuff is always a dollar and change, making the two a no-brainer to pull out. For this reason alone the “deuce” has a big future right now. Even its moniker of deuce is a cool word. It’s the ugly swan whose time has come.
It’s brand equity is simultaneously quaint-retro and forward thinking. It connotes an era of “then” while simutaneously communicating that the “buck” can easily be trumped by a deuce. And maybe that’s why the American mindset can’t wrap its head around the idea of a two. The American dollar reigns supreme. Or at least has as long as the U.S. Treasury can maintain its AAA credit rating worldwide. The buck is the world’s common denominator. A five is “five dollars” a ten “ten dollars,” whereas a two is not “two dollars” but “a two.” Is that why ”a twenty” kind of looks like “a two?” Communication speaks volumes. Our language dosen’t have a place for it. Our notion of American superiority seeks to keep the status quo of our monetary system.
Maybe a two requires a Canada or Europe to work. Not only do they have a one dollar/euro coin, but also a two dollar/euro coin. And people use them, but not here where the eagle flies.
The world is always a bit off kilter. Nothing is exact. But my current profession as a market research guy has, in my opinion, developed a mantra that requires that the reseach I conduct for a client be “rock solid,” i.e. grounded in either well-founded objective fact (when dealing with quantitative data) or succinct insights (when delving into the qualitative realm). Regardless of the nature of the project or methodology employed, my point of view is expected to rest well within defined lines. I must be precise.
This current market research lens may actually cloud my findings. Rather than stuffing marketplace phenomena into a presentational bullet or pithy one-liner for my client, I often find myself wanting to “go wide” and start speaking on the non-alignment of the phenomena I’m investigating, for that’s where I believe interesting findings float.
A great example of this is the Italian fashion practice of sprezzatura. Sprezzatura is the belief that to look correct, things should always look slightly wrong. It is the act of studied effortlessness. A description of naturalness, by design. And when I think of either the natural or manufactured world in which people live and make consumer decisions, it answers a lot. My goal now is to further integrate this concept into the design and execution of the work I do, rather than drawing arbitrary lines in crafting market research. It’s the right direction to take.
A good starting point has been re-examining the basic tenets and overall premise of how I approach market research. Up until now, market research has, more and more, emphasized the science of its practice. Born of the social sciences, it continually seeks legitimization as a ‘true’ science. Unfortunately, in my experience, to use a well-worn phrase, it’s ”too fuzzy” for such rigor. Rather, I believe breakthrough research is more likely to occur if we allow the foundation of the practice to flow from the humanities, and not social science: writing, illustration, design, voice and performance.
So far I’ve found this premise to be powerful in the work I do. It’s decidedly different, and refreshing. Let’s face it, market research as we’ve known it for the past fifty plus years can be stale and uninspiring, regardless of how lofty our ideals. I think research should take a shot at being beautiful instead.
Last weekend I visited two retail stores that had one thing, and only one thing, in common. They both had the word “hardware” in their brand name. And that’s all they had in common. One store delivered on my experience, one did not.
I visited both Ace Hardware and Restoration Hardware. I visited the former because I needed something particular and my wife said “they may be small in size, but they’ll have it. Besides, their staff will help you, just like a hardware store should. It even smells like a hardware store.” And she was right. My whole experience felt right. Every moment, from walking up to the moment I was back in my car, was what I expected. Ace Harware has more than achieved appropriate brand fit. The brand has hung in there, true to its brand equity, not flinching to “of the moment” considerations. The Ace Hardware brand works. I predict they’ll do well.
On another afternoon that same weekend, I visited Restoration Hardware. I went there because I was at the mall, and just wandered into their store. Peripherally, I was also thinking of poking at some high end fixtures and maybe grab some nice towels to pamper myself at the pool this summer. I couldn’t find either. Instead, I felt like I entered a dusty old Victorian home in the north of England. Don’t get me wrong, I more than get the current hipster aesthetic of ‘genuine’ and ‘worn craft’ and the dark tomes that exemplify this such as the Ace Hotels, where I’ve been known to frequent and where execution does work. This was different. I had no idea what kind of store I was in. It’s kind of turned into a furniture store, but not really. The furniture and accompanying accessories were so over-sized they appeared more to be cast-offs from a teen vampire show set, or a poorly conceived art installation. Some things looked interesting, but I saw no functional application of anything in anyone’s homes I knew. Hardware? In sum, I believe their ‘retro-forward’ brand expression is way off the mark. But who am I…
I conduct a lot of “brand stretch” work nowadays (i.e., trying to take legacy brands into new product territory) but their interpretation was more like a knock-off of an ethnographic installation I might conduct with W5 to springboad creative thought. They just seemed to stop there. It was weird. And when I left, no one else was in the store, save for patient sales people trying to balance a set of old dusty croquet balls, or whatever they were.
It just goes to show that a brand can stretch its meaning, and subsequently its product offerings. However, creative license should not come at the price of confusing the consumer. For in the end, both the company and its likely consumers suffer. There’s something to be said for brand honesty.
