Stop! I have important news.

There are 3 basic types of visual communications:

A. Those we have to consume.

B. Those we choose to consume.

C. Those we are coerced into consuming.

A. Those that we have to consume include: traffic signals, warnings, emergency services etc. We are legally obliged to follow their instruction. They tend to be symbolic in nature. Quick and to the point. No faffing about.

Usually the consumer of the message doesn’t have time for fancy wordplay and imagery. Nor is it needed. You don’t have to coerce someone if the alternatively is a hefty fine or a few weeks in the pokey.

B. The second type of communications are those that we choose to consume such as books, films, tv, music, internet, etc.

You may say movies advertise (coerce) using posters and TVCs, but they don’t usually go beyond the actual content of what you will be viewing. So, in essence, it’s still a personal choice as the content in each case will be unique.

In a sub-category to this are newspapers and magazines.
What people choose – The Sun or The Guardian usually depends on personal taste, moral and ethical viewpoint and social class. There is a large element of coercion with these types of media as they are usually competing against similar products. As you will see with publications like Hello, OK, Grazia etc. Or The Sun, The Star and The Mirror.

C. The third type of communications are those that the consumer is coerced into consuming, such as advertising. We interrupt what people choose to consume with our sales messages. People think they are making a choice but if we used only the methods described in Type A, that would be monologue. (You see this method used more in retail advertising.)

If we only use Type B then you have purely content – no differentiation. (Most brands aren’t in the privileged position of being unique.)

So we have to opt for a different method which may incorporate elements of Types A and B. But alone they aren’t enough. A lot of brands products and services can’t differentiate from their competitors.

This is where creative strategic planning comes into play. Finding that unique insight that blends brand truth with consumer necessity.

Learn from what people choose to consume. Learn from what people have to consume. Learn about your brand. Learn about the market. But most importantly, learn how to make your client’s brand as important to them as their favourite book, movie or friend.

Then make it fit tighter than a sado-masochist’s jim-jams.

JAA – CONTRIBUTING ARTISTS

Scroll down to see examples.

HOW YOU CAN BUY THE WORK

Now this is the important bit.

Obviously, there’s going to be an auction on the night and the highest bidder will win.

However, not everybody will be able to attend but might still want to bid. So, in the interest of fairness, what you can do is place a bid for any of the work in the comment box below on this post. If no one exceeds your bid on the night – the work is yours.

Bidding on The Blog will end at midnight on Wednesday 6th April.

All you will have to do is donate to the Red Cross Japan Tsunami Appeal.

Then email me your e-receipt from the Red Cross for proof of payment and I’ll post it off to you. (You will also have to pay the postage.)

See below for a full list of contributing artists. (To whom I am eternally grateful!)

You can also buy raffle tickets in advance of the night and on the night itself for one of the works of art. Tickets are £5 each or 5 for £20. Drop me an email if you’d like some: dmc@anidealworld.eu

Tickets for the auction/exhibition are £10 each and also include entry to a Prize Draw for one of the works of art. (Not to mention some free sushi, wine and beer!) Again, drop me an email if you’d like to come along.

Right, let’s get on with it…

Untitled, by Mike McGinn, Scotland

I’ve only just got a ‘soft copy’ of this stunning piece by Edinburgh based painter, Mike McGinn. Full of energy and emotion. I love it. And was outbid for it on the night! If, like me, you’re keen to see more of his work, drop him a line at: memphisotool@hotmail.com

Imaginary City, by Molly Cockcroft

Imaginary City (detail), by Molly Cockcroft

Imaginary City (detail), by Molly Cockcroft

Molly Cockcroft’s Imaginary City is built on a precise 2mm grid with a 0.1 and 0.3 black pen after a pencil composition sketch, which lead to the more detailed piece. In this imaginary city, someone has hung a Japanese flag out of their window to show their support.

Lords of the Dust, by Nick & Chloe, Paris

Blood Sample 1, Art Director: Des Barzey, Photographer: Wilhelm Scholz, USA

Blood Sample 2, Art Director: Des Barzey, Photographer: Wilhelm Scholz, USA

Blood Sample 3, Art Director: Des Barzey, Photographer: Wilhelm Scholz, USA

BLOOD SAMPLE aka ” CIRCLE OF LIFE”

The diffusion of the blood in the water, compounds the effect the Tsunami had on the people of Japan.

Again reminiscent of the Japanese flag in its simplicity, this piece shows the dissipation of the notorious Japanese red circle. Combine that with the title ” The Circle of Life” and we are at least left with a feeling of hope and that life will return.

Fingerprint 1, Art Director: Des Barzey, Photographer: Wilhelm Scholz, USA

Fingerprint 2, Art Director: Des Barzey, Photographer: Wilhelm Scholz, USA

FINGERPRINT aka ” IDENTITY”

In the wake of the Fukushima Tsunami disaster we found it impelling to capture the human element. Images were constantly showing the Tidal wave wreaking havoc through Japan. What was left was cites and towns washed away and turned upside down.

To the eye it would appear that everyone in the path of the Tsunami has lost everything, loved ones, homes and personal possession’s. What we tried to portray is that the people of Japan still have their identity. A thumb print is the most personal possession all of us posses.

And you can never wash that away. The piece also evokes the patriotism and symbolism of the Japanese flag in with its simplicity and colour. For that reason we named this piece “Identity”,

Extraordinary and exquisite series of shots art directed by Des Barzey and shot by Wilhelm Scholz.

Des Barzey is an award winning Art Director / Creative Director based in NY. He is originally from England, where he studied Art & Design at Jacob Kramer School of Art and Falmouth School of Art. He’s applied his extraordinary creative skills in Ad agencies around the globe from London, Amsterdam, San Francisco, LA to NY. He now resides in NY as a freelance advertising creative consultant.

Des recently founded six degrees of creative separation, six soon became 950+. Six degrees of creative separation refers to the idea that, if a person is one step away from each creative person they know and two steps away from each creative person who is known by one of the creative people they know, then everyone is at most six steps away from any other creative person on Earth.

aka the Human Creative Web. Do you know him?

Wilhelm Scholz is a location photographer and commercial director based both in New York City and Frankfurt, Germany.

As a child, Wilhelm grew up in Germany, Chile, Spain and Venezuela .

Wilhelm has traveled the world producing imagery for advertising and editorial clients such as American Express, BMW, The British Virgin Islands Tourist Board, Geo, Conde Nast Traveler, T-Mobile, United Airlines, Alfa Romeo and his list of awards include the Advertising Photographers Of America Award for Location Photography, Moebius Award for Billboard, Best Ad for Travel Advertising, Masters Of Color Photography Award for Sports Image, The British Black & White Spider Award for Documentary Work.

Sunshine Mandala, by Sarah Jane Robertson, UK

Sunshine Mandala (detail), by Sarah Jane Robertson, UK

Sunshine Mandal (detail), by Sarah Jane Robertson, UK

Moonlight Mandala, by Sarah Jane Robertson, UK

Moonlight Mandala (detail), by Sarah Jane Robertson, UK

Moonlight Mandala (detail), by Sarah Jane Robertson, UK

Framed prints, by Sarah Jane Robertson, UK

Leeds and Edinburgh-based graphic designer, Sarah Jane Robertson, has donated this pair of A3 mandala letterpress prints. Entitled Sunshine & Moonlight, she worked with haiku poets of Alan Summers and Hidenori Hiruta, who created the poems in response to the Earthquake and Tsunami. Sarah then created the prints in response to the poems and letterpress printed them to give greater depth and definition, adding to the original artwork.

The artwork and collaborators

I first found out about the event through Creative Times, an online magazine for the creative community, and I was keen to put my graphic design skills to good use and help. I spent a weekend exploring ideas and coming up with concepts, then got in touch with haiku poet Alan Summers, who kindly created two haiku for me to choose from. I chose both!

The following weekend Hidenori Hiruta, Secretary General of the Akita International Haiku Network, translated the poems while I created the mandala graphics, which were letterpress printed by sponsors Blush Publishing on Bright White and Ebony 350gsm Colorplan, donated by sponsors and GF Smith, to give greater depth and definition.

What is a haiku and where does it come from?

Alan Summers summarises on his website:

“Haiku is a form of Japanese poetry that takes aspects of the natural world as its subject matter. Haiku typically contain a kigo (seasonal reference) and a kireji (cutting word).

English-language haiku is often written in three short lines and read out loud in about six seconds. Written in the present tense, they adopt ordinary language, and work well as two different images that spark off each other.

Haiku don’t tell, or merely describe, they allow the reader to enter the poem in their own way.

Haiku comes from a “first verse” called hokku; they often look incomplete as they originate from a linked verse poem, by different poets. Each verse is completed by the next verse and so on.

They have a special place in the range of poetry known as renga, or renku, that enjoyed a renaissance in 17th Century Japan and continues today in Japan and in the West.

Journalist, writer and poet Masaoka Shiki officially made hokku an independent poem in the 1890s called haiku (singular and plural spelling) and brought the form into the 20th Century.” Alan Summers

Alan Summers is a Japan Times award-winning writer for haiku and renku, and has been awarded a Ritsumeikan University of Kyoto Peace Museum Award for haiku.

He is the founder of With Words, a UK-based provider of literature, education and literacy projects, often based around the Japanese genres.

He is based in Bradford-on-Avon, Wiltshire, UK.

http://www.withwords.org.uk
Hidenori Hiruta

Hidenori Hiruta (pen name Shuutou Hiruta) is the founder and Secretary-General of the Akita International Haiku Network and a member of the Haiku International Association.

His haiku have appeared in various publications including Asahi Shimbun; Haijinx; Simply Haiku; and HaikuPix Review, and HI (Tokyo).

He is based in Akita, Northern Honshu, Japan.

akitahaiku.wordpress.com

What is a mandala?

As described by The Mandala Project:

The word “mandala”, from the classical Indian language of Sanskrit, can be loosely translated to mean “circle”. It represents wholeness and can be seen as a model for the organisation structure of life itself; a cosmic diagram that reminds us of our relationship with the world around us.

The mandala appears in all aspects of life; the celestial circles we call the earth, sun and moon, as well as the conceptual circles of friends, family and community.

Untitled, by James O'Connell, UK

Irish poet, Patrick Chapman, has most generously donated signed copies of his complete works – five collections of poetry including a handwritten poem especially written for this auction and the victims of the Japan tsunami.

The Darwin Vampires, by Patrick Chapman, Ireland

A Shopping Mall on Mars, by Patrick Chapman, Ireland

Breaking Hearts and Traffic Lights, by Patrick Chapman, Ireland

The New Pornography, by Patrick Chapman, Ireland

Jazztown, by Patrick Chapman, Ireland

Japanese Lotus, by Grace Mills, UK

The Japanese Lotus flower is a symbol of hope and rebirth.
The lotus flower is revered in Japan for its ability to rise from the dirty, murky waters to bloom into a beautiful pure flower.

White Stag, 24" x 30", by Graeme Cooper, UK

Our Fragile Earth, by Lily Kenny & Katy Egan, Ireland

‘Our Fragile Earth’ is a window decal made from resin and food colouring. This piece will not be up in the exhibition, but is still available to buy online, or on the night, and will be posted to the buyer directly from Ireland.

Untitled, by Rachael Williams, UK

Scarlet Oak, by Michael Swallow, UK

Broken Land, Unbroken Spirit, by Craig Hebditch, UK

This Japanese Rising Sun depicted by a cherry blossom tree symbolizes that Japan will grow again and that their spirit is bigger than any crisis.

The Japanese wording translates as “Broken land. Unbroken Spirit”, which is the title of the piece.

Winter, 11 11, by Roberta Masciarelli, Brazil / USA

Untitled, by Patrick Goodwin, UK

A Space Inbetween... by Mari-Ruth Oda, Japan

Bony Holes, by Mari-Ruth Oda, Japan

Bony Holes, by Mari-Ruth Oda, Japan

My work is influenced by the traditional Japanese concept of worshipping nature. Many of the stone gardens in Japan deal with the idea of recreating nature and providing a contemplative situation in which the spirit can be purified. In a similar way, I try to recreate my experiences of nature through my work.

I work from observational drawings and photographs of fruits, vegetables and bones as well as the human figure and landscapes. Through these influences and observations I explore the anthropomorphic quality of natural forms. I aim to achieve in my forms and situations, a tactile quality that is serene and calm.
Mari-Ruth Oda

Hand-crafted rings by Junko Mori, Japan

Hand-crafted ring 1, by Junko Mori, Japan

Hand-crafted ring 2, by Junko Mori, Japan

Hand-crafted ring 3, by Junko Mori, Japan

Hand-crafted ring 4, by Junko Mori, Japan

Hand-crafted ring 5, by Junko Mori, Japan

Three Bottles, by Tone von Krogh, Norway/Switzerland

Born in Switzerland, grew up in Norway. Tone came to Manchester in 1994 to complete a BA in Three Dimensional Design at Manchester Metropolitan University and never went back.

Her work has been widely exhibited in the UK and abroad. Galleries and outlets include Liberty (London), Gump’s (San Francisco), Majlis Gallery (Dubai) , Haa Gamle Prestegaard (Stavanger, Norway) as well as Bluecoat Gallery in Liverpool , City Art and Design Gallery in Leeds and Royal Exchange in Manchester. The current collection can be found on the website www.madebyhandonline.com

Three bottles (20cm, 28cm and 37cm tall) is from the recent Winter Collection. They are hand made on a potter’s wheel and glazed to a satin finish. The collection draws inspiration from memories of snow covered landscapes in Norway. When heavy snow covers trees, rocks, paths and architecture; sharp edges become soft and everyday shapes may become unrecogiseable. Tone has tried to bring the same feel to her work by softly distorting pieces made on the potter’s wheel and giving them bulges and indentations. The colour range is reflecting the many tones of snow, ice and winter skies.

Lost Railway Carriage, by Paul Fosbury, UK

Hallmarked sterling silver bangle weighing 12.4gms, hand-forged and designed to go on directly over the wrist. By Prue Biddle, UK

Want to be immortalized?

Ella Griffin offers you a Zelig-like appearance in her second novel, a romantic comedy to be published by Orion in 2012. She will name a minor character after you or someone whose hand you want to hold. Please note: If your name is a Annette Curtain or Anne Ass or Amanda Huggenkiss this might be tricky!

This is an absolutely brilliant prize for a loved one from best-selling author, Ella Griffin. Immortalize them in her next novel! She’s a beautiful person both inside and out so don’t worry, the character won’t be an axe murderer or anything like that. You’ll also get a signed copy of her first novel: Postcards from the Heart. About which Marion Keyes said: ‘A fresh, funny new voice, Ella Griffin can make you laugh and then cry in the turn of a page.’

Maruzen, by John Shelley, UK/Japan

John Shelley studied at Bournville School of Art, then illustration at Manchester Polytechnic under children’s illustrator Tony Ross.

Debuting as a freelance illustrator in London, by 1984 he’d co-founded the artist’s collective Facade Studios with designer Andy Royston and illustrators Jane Ray and Willie Ryan. Fascinated by Japanese art, in 1987 he moved to Tokyo in search of the missing link between samurai and Sony, making it his home for the following 21 years.

In Japan his award-winning illustrations have been used in everything from animated TV ads, poster and newspaper campaigns to character merchandising and editorial illustration. With a unique insight into the Japanese creative market he has stood as a committee member of JAGDA (Japan Graphic Designer Association) and presented at colleges across the country.

Shelley’s work for publishing follows a more elaborate vein of pen and watercolour. His first major picture book The Secret in the Matchbox was shortlisted for the Mother Goose Award, since when his children’s illustrations have continued to gain steady recognition in East and West. As an author his own published stories include Hoppy’s New House (Fukuinkan Shoten) and The House of the World (Benesse).

Bilingual in Japanese, Shelley returned to the UK in 2008, but still maintains close associations with Japan.

Member of The Society of Authors, Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI) and Picture Book Artists (PBA)

Just received some exquisite silver jewelry by Japanese designer, Junko Mori. Rings to be precise. Haven’t got shots yet, but couldn’t wait to tell you about them. They’re actually cast from Australian plants and look very organic. Absolutely unique works of art you can wear!

Thank you to ceramic artist, Tone von Krogh for asking Junko to donate something.

Signed Snare skin and drumsticks by Mike Joyce

Not only has The Smiths, Mike Joyce kindly donated a limited edition print from The Smiths early days by Stephen Wright. He’s also very generously auctioning a signed snare skin (courtesy of Johnny Roadhouse) and a set of signed drumsticks. Oh, and no, that’s not the actual drum and sticks in the pic. It’s just an artist’s impression of what a drum and some sticks might look like.

Joy Division, by Martin O'Neill, UK

Untitled, by Maggie Gibson, Ireland

Svartifoss (Black Falls) Iceland, by David Short, UK

Untitled, Oonagh Young, Ireland

Pete Postlethwaite, by Jonathan Oakes, UK

Tokyo Cityscape, 60cm x 100cm, by ParrisWakefield, UK

Studio Parris Wakefield
Howard Wakefield worked with world-renowned designer Peter Saville for nearly 20 years and in that time explored pushing the boundaries of Photoshop to pioneer digital abstract graphic art to create a large number of the digital imagery for the music industry including Joy Division, New Order and Suede.

He has also worked with fashion photographer Nick Knight to create a number of figurative abstracts. Sarah Parris and Howard Wakefield have worked together since 2001 and their recent project is their Cityscape series which represents the profusion of perceptions from a constantly evolving city. There will always be something new to discover – from the distinct, to the obscure, these cityscapes portray their unique infinite quality

Some of Howard’s work, collaborating with Peter Saville, is sold through Paul Stolper Gallery and the V&A have Waste Painting #3 as part of their permanent collection.

Yohji Yamamoto, by Robert Walker, UK

Interestingly, Robert said that he took this shot just 12 hours before the earthquake struck.

Vivienne Westwood, by Robert Walker, UK

Butterflies, by Kelvin Hudson, Ireland

Kelvin is originally from the UK where he incorporated his passion for photography with his career as a freelance commercial photographer. His first pictures were taken age 5 on a plastic camera from tokens on the back of a cornflake packet sent to him from his uncle in Brighton and then continued to take pictures on a Kodak 110 instamatic camera until he borrowed His Dad’s Pentax to acheive the cub’s photographers badge at the age of 10 (which included a complete portfolio printed in a darkroom and answering theory questions). After achieving an O level in Photography (one of the first to do it and independently from school), he pursued a Photography DIP at Salisbury College of Art and went on to assist photographers in Los Angeles and London, most notably with John Claridge . He was commissioned to work on assignments with the most creative London advertising agencies – Saatchi and Saatchi Abbott Mead and Vickers, BMP, Y&R, TBWA and Ogilvy + Mather to name a few. Work included British Airways, Smirnoff, British Rail, Citroen, Kodak, British Gas, Karvol, Tetley Bitter and Yorkshire TV, most of which were 48 sheet posters and press ads.

During that period he also worked on numerous Charity accounts such as NSPCC and Mencap . Editorial commissions include numerous portraits for The Sunday Times Magazine, The Observer, The Sunday Telegraph Magazine and Management today which lead to advertising assignments from New York – working on campaigns with Jaguar, New Balance, Chesterfield, Canadian Airways, Air France, Nenex and I.B.M. San Francisco agency Goodby Silverstein commissioned a total of 19 Ads for Hewlett Packard some of which won The One Show awards , SF Addy awards and Clio. He had other european clients in Germany and Holland. In I992 he relocated to Dublin where he presently resides . Whilst still working internationally Kelvin commenced working with Dublin ad agencies working on Guinness, Tourism Ireland, Ballygowan, Bank of Ireland, Bulmers (Magners,) Kelloggs, Tullamore Dew, BMW, Heinz, Vodafone and Lotto. Along the way he has received numerous awards – Ilford print award, John Kobal portrait awards, Benson&Hedges Photography awards , Epica’s, The Association of Photographers (UK) including a cover of the awards book , numerous Gold and Silver in the Irish Creative Advertising awards. Kelvin is continually involved in personal photography projects and individual images some of which are available for commercial usage and fine art print sales through Lens Modern. Exhibitions include Hamiltons Gallery and various group exhibitions such as the London Portrait Gallery, AOP, The Photographers Gallery and The Blue Leaf Gallery Dublin.

He is currently working on a new website as well as projects to include ‘Sweeps Re- Visited’ ‘Souls’ and Dublin South Wall. His Blog is continually active.

The Smiths, by Stephen Wright, Courtesy of Mike Joyce

Brian Cox, (National Portrait Gallery), by Paul Wolfgang Webster, UK

Manchester, by Michael Swallow, UK

Morrocan Water Seller, by Nicola David

Untitled, by Shane Hollohan, Ireland

Ugandan gorilla, by Simon Winnall, UK

Think Small, by Selina Yuk Tzang Pan, Netherlands

The Gardener, by Jean Smith, USA

By Dameon Lynn, UK

By Aidan Dowling, Ireland

By Hokusai. Poem by David Milligan-Croft, UK

Tsunami - A poem for Japan, by David Milligan-Croft, UK

JAPAN ART AUCTION CONTRIBUTING ARTISTS

1. KATY EGAN Writer, Ireland
2. DAVE MERRELL Illustrator, UK
3. GRACE MILLS Art Director, UK
4. JOE COLEMAN Writer, UK
5. DAVID MILLIGAN-CROFT Writer, UK
6. MOLLY COCKCROFT Designer, UK
7. NICOLA DAVID Photographer, UK
8. CRAIG HEBDITCH Art Director, UK
9. JONATHAN OAKES Photographer, UK
10. OONAGH YOUNG Artist, Ireland
11. ROBERTA MASCIARELLI, Artist, Brazil

13. PATRICK CHAPMAN Writer, Ireland
14. DES BARZEY Art Director, NY, USA
15. AIDAN DOWLING, Illustrator, Ireland
16. EUAN MYLES, Photographer, UK
17. KELVIN HUDSON Photographer, Ireland
18. CAROLYN WALSH Artist, Ireland
19. LOU HUGHES Artist, UK
20. SARAH JANE ROBERTSON Designer, UK

22. SIMON WINNALL Photographer, UK
23. JOHN SHELLEY Illustrator, UK
24. SHANE HOLLOHAN Photographer, Ireland
25. STEPHEN HUNTER Art Director, Ireland
26. TONE VON KROGH Ceramic Artist, Norway
27. PAUL FOSBURY Photographer, UK
28. ELLA GRIFFIN Writer, Ireland
29. TREVOR HART Photographer, Ireland
30. JEAN SMITH Artist, USA
31. DAMEON LYNN Ceramic Artist, UK

33. SARAH PARRIS Digital Art, UK
34. ROBERT WALKER Photographer, UK
35. NICK and CHLOE Photographers, Paris, France

37. MIKE MCGINN Artist, Scotland
38. MAGGIE GIBSON Artist, Ireland
39. ALEX TELFER Photographer, UK
40. Mari Ruth Oda Ceramic Artist, Japan
41. Junko Mori Ceramic Artist, Japan
42. GRAHAME COOPER Photographer, UK
43. DAVID SHORT Photographer, UK
44. LYNTON HEMSLEY Artist, UK
45. BART O’REILLY Artist, USA
46. SELINA YUK TZANG PAN Designer, Netherlands
47. PAUL WOLFGANG WEBSTER Photographer, UK
48. MICHAEL SWALLOW Photographer, UK
49. STEPHEN WRIGHT Photographer, UK

Thank you to all the sponsors: Samsi Japanese Restaurant, Studio Manchester, Jonathan Oakes, Brave Music Agency. Kirin Ichiban, Wells & Youngs.

Japan Art Auction

I’ve been so busy Tweeting, Facebooking and Linked-In-ing, that I’ve neglected to mention the Japan Art Auction on my blog!

I’m putting on an exhibition / auction of UK and Irish creative work to raise funds for victims of the tsunami.

Artists include: writers, photographers, designers and illustrators from the advertising industry who are kindly donating work to be auctioned/sold.

I have already received the first piece for the exhibition – a beautiful poem by Irish poet, Patrick Chapman.

I’ve had lots of very positive feedback, offers of help, and advice on how to put on an exhibition!

If anyone out there wants to donate some artwork, please drop me a line. It can either be something bespoke, related to the disaster, or something from your archives. Or, if you know someone else you think might want to help, send them this post.

The medium isn’t important either. It could be: a painting, illustration, photograph, poem, prose, haiku, graphic design etc.

What it must be: is something that you think someone else might want to put on their wall.

The main goal for this is to raise money for the people of Japan.

The date is TBC. As is the venue. But it is more than likely going to be in Manchester, England.

I’ll provide regular updates as I have them re specs, venue, dates etc.

Anyone who wants to help in any way, (even if it isn’t to exhibit), please drop me a line. But, above all, remember, I want everything for Free!

Thank you.

David Milligan-Croft

 

How Art can Save the World

Okay, let’s go back in time a while.

No, even before Sky +. I’m talking about waaaay back, before we paltry humans ever even had like proper words to talk with.

Before language, before literacy, before art, before music, before KFC, before farming, before religion, before the bronze age, before the stone age, before politics, before war, before society.

Now that’s a long time ago. That’s nearly as long ago as Leeds United last won a trophy.

I’m talking about when a bloke in a cave was trying to tell his mate that there was this big mother-fucker-mammoth down by the base of the volcano that would feed the tribe for a year – if they had a refrigerator. It’s like a scene from an early episode of Give us a clue. Except he can’t. Because language hasn’t been invented yet.

So, in frustration, the caveman, let’s call him Herb, picks up a charcoal ember from the fire and starts trying to draw what he’s seen on the cave wall. His mate, let’s call him Frank, has a bemused look on his face as if to say: You can’t draw for shit. Except he doesn’t because he can’t talk.

Eventually, after a bit of practice, Herb’s pictograms start taking shape. Suddenly, the penny drops, (except currency hasn’t been invented yet), and Frank mimics what he perceives to be a mammoth down by the volcano. Herb excitedly points one index finger at him whilst simultaneously placing his other index finger on the tip of his nose.

And thus, Art was created. (And Game Shows.)

And lo, the tribe was fed.

And while sitting around the camp fire gnawing on a mammoth hoof, Frank gesticulates that Herb’s mammoth looked more like his missus than a mammoth.

And there begineth the bar-room brawl.

Now, what better way to finish off a good feed than a bit of a knees-up. So Herb picks up a couple of sticks and starts tapping out a beat on a hollowed out log. Frank and his missus, let’s call her Marjorie, start tapping their feet and before you know it they’re cutting a jig around the fire almost setting light to Marge’s sabre-tooth tiger print frock.

And lo, music was created.

And the tribe was happy.

So, maybe it was a wet day in caveman land and all the paints were a bit soggy. Or maybe there weren’t any cave walls to paint on. Or maybe there was just too much to say for one picture. But at some stage, somebody somewhere decided that ‘ug’ meant mammoth. And ‘og’ meant dinner. Then Marge said something along the lines of: ug, og, ag, pig, bag, nog, bok, jim-jams, flim-flam, muktub, jimmy choo, pak choi, bic, ram, mo jo.

Thus, language was born. And men became hen-pecked.

And we could communicate with each other. Then came writing so we could pass on information to people we couldn’t speak to – either people faraway or people in the future.

This meandering post is about creativity. And humankind’s ability to ingeniously invent and create things to make our lives better.

Now, to my point:

The first thing western governments cut in a recession is the arts. But it is the arts, in their broadest form: language, music, literature, poetry, art etc, that have shaped all the world’s civilizations.

Without the arts, we don’t have culture. And without culture, we don’t have society. Without society we don’t have civilization and without civilisation we have anarchy.

The UK government is slashing budgets left right and centre, with anything remotely to do with the arts top of the list. With all these austerity measures citizen’s wills are bending to breaking point. And it is only going to get worse. We’ve already seen students rioting. It doesn’t take a genius to work out where this is all heading.

Maybe investing in areas that nurture our more creative and innovative sides might get us all through this economic depression into an era that shows just how ingenious and resourceful we are.

Okay, so money-where-my-mouth-is time.

Here are a couple of suggestions for ideas that could change the way we live and learn.

First up:

Vote in the wall.

This is an idea I had a while ago about how to encourage a bigger turn out in elections. Basically to hi-jack cash machines on polling day.

It would result in more people voting, which would, if had been around at the last election, have resulted in a different government. Which, let’s be fair, would be better for everyone who’s not involved with banking.

Second:

Zero Debt.

Reset all the world’s bank balances to zero and start again.
What about all the people who are actually owed money! I hear you cry.
Well, maybe the banks should suffer a little bit too. If they can make billions in profits so soon after the recession, I’m sure it wouldn’t take them too long to make their money back.

Third.

Book Depositories.

Now that the ConDems are closing all our libraries (apologies to anyone outside the UK who this doesn’t apply to), how about we turn libraries into Book Depositories?

Where rich, poor, middle class can drop off their ‘used’ books so that others might benefit.

You could even have a tie-in with books shops. ‘Drop-off’ bins instore where books can be collected then redistributed to libraries/depsoitories. What’s in it for the book shop? Well, you’ve got a customer in your shop who’s already predisposed to buying books.

I was fortunate enough to live, literally across-the-road from a small library. I used to take my kids to it all the time. It wasn’t anything to do with not being able to afford books. It was a great experience for them.

There were computers for people who didn’t have the internet. There were bridge clubs, scrabble clubs, god, they even had books!

Now it’s closing down.

This wasn’t just a library. It was a community centre.

So… Council owned, and run, Book Depositories where the council doesn’t have to pay a penny for the stock on its shelves.

There you are now,

Ideas change the world. People have ideas.

Let’s put our noodles together and creatively figure a way out of this mess.

We owe it to Herb, Frank and Marjorie. Oh, and Miriam, who’s Herb’s partner, but is a bit shy.

Corinne Vionet

Corinne Vionet

I gather that Vionet has found masses of tourist’s imagery of iconic landmarks taken from identical angles and superimposed them to create this extraordinary ‘painterly’ effect. Lovely stuff. There are more examples if you click through.

Thanks to Jocundist for sharing.

Calling all illustrators…

Any illustrators out there who might be interested in collaborating on the following short story?

It’s a modern retelling of an old fable aimed at adolescents, (12-16). So I imagine something extremely contemporary or dark would be appropriate.

Drop me a line if you’re interested, or know of someone who might be.

BARRY AND THE BEANSTALK

A MODERN RETELLING OF AN OLD FABLE

© David Milligan-Croft

Barry lived with his Dad in a one bed flat on the top floor of a high-rise council flat in Moss Side. Dad slept in the bedroom, while Barry slept on the sofa in the living room. They didn’t have much to their name save for a Sky + Box and a clapped out Mark II Ford Capri, with a black vinyl roof and orange bodywork.

Barry’s Dad, Bernie, woke up one morning to find he’d run out of fags. He checked all the dimps in the ashtrays around the flat but they’d all been drawn down to the filters.

‘Barry!’ he shouted. ‘Have you got a fag? I’m gasping.’

‘I don’t smoke’, Barry said from under his Man City duvet.

‘Why not?’ Bernie retorted.

Barry ignored his Dad and rolled over to get the busted sofa spring out of his backside.

‘It’s no good,’ Bernie said. ‘We’re gunna have to sell the Capri.

‘You can’t sell Daisy!’ Barry said, sitting bolt upright.

‘It’s either that or I’m gunna have t’see GP about getting some patches and I’m not ready to give in yet.’

Barry walked out onto the balcony and looked down at Daisy, parked 15 floors below next to a burnt out Nissan Micra and a washing machine that had been disposed of using the ‘express elevator’. Bernie walked out beside him and put his arm round his son.

‘Tell you what, son. You take Daisy down to Bob’s Motormart and if you get a decent price for her I’ll treat you to a PSP.’ Bernie heard the front door slam behind him as Barry’s footsteps took the concrete stairs four at a time.

*            *            *

Daisy started on the fourth time of asking and a plume of blue-black smoke bellowed from the exhaust. Barry sat on an up-turned blue plastic milk crate so he could see out of the windscreen. He tied a  shoe box to his right foot to depress the accelerator and used a knackered cricket bat to work the clutch.

Barry kangarooed out of the car park onto Princess Parkway narrowly avoiding a milkfloat. (The owner of which was missing one blue plastic milk crate.)

It wasn’t long before the blue-black smoke coming out of the back of the car was joined by rusty grey smoke coming out of the front. Soon after, the engine cut out all together, so Barry coasted into a bus stop where a funny looking old fella was sitting, presumably, waiting for a bus.

Barry stepped out of the car and almost fell into on-coming traffic as he tripped over the shoe box still tied to his foot. He jumped to his feet and kicked off the offending cause of embarrassment. The old man was smiling.

‘What you looking at?’ Barry said, gruffly.

‘Nice car you’ve got there,’ the old man beamed from behind sunglasses. Barry noticed the man was holding a white cane.

‘Would be if she worked,’ Barry huffed.

‘What do you want for her?’ The old man continued.

Barry tried to work out how much a PSP cost plus a packet of Lambert & Butler. ‘Two hundred and fifty five quid and 68 pence,’ he said after about eight minutes.

The old man stroked his chin with thumb and forefinger, then, after a while reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a fist. ‘How about these?’

Barry walked over to the old man to take a closer look. The old man curled open his gnarled nicotine stained fingers to reveal a handful of multi-coloured beans.

‘They’re magic beans,’ the old man said. ‘Worth much, much more than two hundred and fifty quid.’

‘How much more?’ Barry’s eyes narrowed.

‘Er, about a hundred times more.’

It was Barry’s turn to stroke his chin, pondering what they might be able to afford with what was left over. ‘Okay,’ Barry said. ‘The beans and your white stick. Final offer.’

‘You’d take a blind man’s cane? You drive a hard bargain, young man.’

‘Well, you won’t need it if you’ve got a car will you?’ Barry snatched the beans and the cane out of the old man’s grasp and deposited the keys to the Capri into his empty palm. ‘Bye, Daisy,’ he said giving the Daisy one last look.

Barry sprinted back to the flat his heart pounding and burst into the living room, where Bernie was smoking a banana skin and coughing up lungfuls of phlegm.

‘About bleeding time,’ Bernie coughed. ‘I was about to smoke your trainers. How much did you get? Where’s me fags?’

Barry proudly offered his outstretched palm. ‘I got these!’

Bernie looked at the handful of beans then at the cane. ‘Pass me the cane, lad.’ He said.

His son handed it over and Bernie cracked it over his son’s head. ‘You dopey little twat.’ Berine picked up the beans and flung them out of the window then settled back down on the sofa to watch his favourite Cindy Crawford workout video.

‘Does this mean I don’t get a PSP?’ he said rubbing the top of his head.

Barry went to bed that night wondering what might of been had they kept the magic beans.

Fortunately, when Bernie threw the beans out of the window they had landed into Mrs Grogan’s window box on the floor below. There, in the dead of night, they sank into the rich, fertile compost and took root. Not before too long, the beans sprouted shoots and went spiraling far into the black starry sky.

The next morning, Barry woke with the usual hunger pangs. Bernie had pawned the sofa the previous day, so Barry had had to sleep on the floor. Still, at least they’d eaten. A bag of scraps from the chippy was mighty welcome after a week of tomatoes fished from Mrs Grogan’s window box.

It was the thought of doing a spot of tomato fishing that drew barry to the balcony. And to his astonishment, there before him was the most humungous beanstalk he had ever seen. In fact, it was the only bean stalk he had ever seen. And, to be truthful, the word ‘beanstalk’ had never even entered Barry’s head as a description for the plant now growing in Mrs Grogan’s window box. It was the biggest tree-like plant he had ever seen.

Barry craned his neck skyward and saw the beanstalk disappear into the heavy grey cloud that perpetually sat above Manchester. As you would imagine, the first thing that crossed Barry’s mind was to call the council and have the offending vegetation chopped down for blocking his view. Fortunately, his second thought was: I wonder where it goes?

Nervously, Barry stepped off the balcony and gripped the branches of the beanstalk unsure if it would hold his weight. Slowly, he lifted a foot onto the next branch.

After climbing for what seemed like hours, Barry emerged from the clouds to brilliant sunshine and what could only be described as a Wimpy Homes type castle. It had all the features of a castle: turrets, keep, ramparts, drawbridge – just in red brick with uPVC double glazed windows.

Barry tentatively dipped a toe into the fluffy grey cloud to check for a bit of resistance. Trusting that if the cloud could hold the weight of a castle, it could surely hold the weight of an eleven year old lad, he stepped out. It was like walking on a mattress. He boinged his way toward the castle. The closer he got the more he realised that this was no ordinary castle, (apart from the semi-d style brick work), it was absolutely ginormous. It was big enough for a giant.

Barry scanned the ground for something to knock on the door with. He settled on a bit of a branch, or twig, as it probably was up here. He tapped it on the palm of his hand to check for strength and swung it three times at the door. Unless the occupier was a bat, it was doubtful they would hear the tiny sound. He looked up for another means of entry. If only there was a drainpipe he could shin up to an open window. Better still, he spotted a long chain that could only be an old fashioned doorbell. He climbed up onto the metal hoop at the end and jumped up and down in an attempt to summon the owner of the house but it wouldn’t budge. So he decided to climb up the chain links to the keyhole and slither through to the other side.

Once through, he gazed upon a gigantic baronial hall with artex ceiling and a huge roaring coal-effect gas fire place adorned by gargoyles and figurines. Next to the fireplace was a reclining leather chair where an ogre the size of Nelson’s column was snoozing.

Barry tiptoed closer to get a better look at the brute when he noticed a leather purse lying on the ground. It was filled to the brim with gold coins. He tugged the purse strings closed and hauled it over his shoulder and was making his way back to the door when he heard a goose clucking away in its cage. He peered through the bars and spotted that a goose had laid a golden egg.

‘Crikey blimey,’ he said to himself. ‘Is that solid gold?’

‘24 carat,’ the goose answered.

Barry fell on his backside aghast that the bird had replied. ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I’ve seen it all. A talking bird.’

‘So it’s okay for me to lay pure gold eggs but not have the capacity of speech?’ The bird retorted.

‘S’pose you’ve got a point there,’ he said standing up and dusting himself down.

‘Listen,’ the bird continued. ‘If you get me out of here, I’ll help you escape. The ogre has had me locked up in here for two hundred years.’

Barry pondered the offer. ‘Can I have one of your golden eggs?’

‘You can have as many as you want. Heck, I’ll even come and live with you so long as you don’t put me in a cage.’

‘Deal.’ Barry said as he lifted the latch on the cage door.

The goose shuffled out of the cage. ‘Hop on my back, we’ll fly out through that open window over the door.’

As Barry climbed up the goose feathers he noticed something glimmering in the corner. ‘What’s that?’ he inquired.

‘I’d leave that harp well alone if I were you,’ the goose advised. ‘It’s pretty pally with the ogre.’

‘You’re having a giraffe if you think I’m leaving that behind. That’s got to be worth at least an XBox.’

‘A whatbox?’

‘Never mind,’ Barry said. ‘Just fly over there and I’ll grab it as we’re passing.’

‘It’s your funeral,’ the bird said flapping its wings.

Barry clung onto the bird with his left hand and reached down with his right.

‘Got it!’

The harp suddenly woke and let out a shriek. ‘Help! I’m being harpnapped!’

The ogre sat bolt upright with a start. ‘Whatthefu!’

‘Help!’ The harp screamed.

‘Can’t you fly any higher!’ Barry shouted to the goose.

‘I could if you let go of that sack of gold coins and a solid gold bleeding harp!’

The ogre jumped to his feet and ran toward the goose. ‘Fe-fi-fo-fum, look out Harpo here I come.’ The ogre launched himself into the air to grab the fleeing bird but his flailing fingers could only grasp thin air.

The goose soared up and out through the window.

‘We did it!’ Barry shouted.

Just then, the castle door swung open and the ogre came sprinting after them. ‘Come back ‘ere with my booty yer thievin’ little shite.’

‘He’s gaining on us!’ Barry panicked.

‘He’ll use your legs for toothpicks,’ the harp taunted.

Barry looked down at the Harp and began twiddling with the tuning pegs. ‘No! not the tuning pegs!’ he wailed in several octaves.

‘Quick, goosey! Head toward that beanstalk.’

‘I’ll thank you not to call me goosey. My name’s Steve.’

‘Okay… Steve. Head towards the beanstalk, then fly down and don’t stop ‘til I tell you.’

Steve did as he was told and went into a vertical beakdive as soon as he reached the beanstalk. Barry’s cheeks were covering his ears such was the g-force. He strained to look back over his shoulder only to see the ogre clambering down the beanstalk four branches at a time.

‘You’re FOR it now!’ droned the Harp.

‘Land on the balcony with the BBQ on it,’ Barry shouted through the wind.

As the bird landed Barry slid off its back and bolted into the flat. He flung the harp and the sack of gold coins into Bernie’s bedroom and began rummaging through his wardrobe. Beneath a pile of Bernie’s soiled underwear Barry found what he was looking for – the chainsaw he’d pinched from his last job at the sawmill. Not that he’d worked at the sawmill. He was burglarizing the place when he came across it and thought it might come in handy one day. And that day was today.

Barry ran back out onto the balcony only to see Steve flapping his great wings and taking off into the drizzly Manchester sky.

‘I thought you wanted to live here with me?’ Barry called after him.

‘What? Live in this shit hole. I’ll take my chances out there.’ With that, Steve soared into a rain cloud and was gone.

Barry had no time to lose. The ogre was almost on top of him. ‘Not so big now, are you!’ he shouted up at the lumbering brute whilst simultaneously pulling on the starter chord. Nothing. Barry looked the chainsaw then up at the ogre. He yanked it again. Still nothing.

‘Not so tough now, are ye, yer little slug?’ Said the ogre.

Quick as a flash, Barry leapt over the balcony onto Mrs Grogan’s below and began scooping trowelfuls of earth out of the windowbox. The more he scooped, the more the beanstalk teetered. Until finally, there wasn’t enough soil to hold it steady and it toppled down into the deserted carpark below killing the ogre instantly.

*            *            *

Barry and Bernie were reclining in their ‘Lazy-boys’ playing Call of Duty on their new X-Box 361 when their was a knock at the door.

‘You expecting someone?’ Barry asked his dad.

‘A couple of prozzies. But they’re not due ‘til half ten.’

Barry paused the game and looked through the spyhole. ‘Shit! It’s the rozzers!’

Bernie flicked his spliff over the balcony and brushed the ash off his shirt. ‘S’alright, son. Let ‘em in. We haven’t done owt wrong.’

Barry slowly opened the door.

‘Barry Sheehan?’

‘Who wants to know?’

‘Who do you think?’ the officers said in unison.

‘If it’s about the outstanding tickets on the Capri, we sold it. It’s nowt to do with us anymore.’

‘Barry Sheehan, I’m arresting you for breaking and entering, theft, kidnap and murder. You do not have to say anything…’

‘Murder, thieving, kidnap?’ Bernie stood up protesting. ‘Just who’s he supposed to have kidnapped?’

‘HELP! I’m in here,’ yelled the Harp from the bedroom.

The two officers glanced at each other. ‘Anything you do say will be taken down and could be used as evidence against you.’

And the moral of this tale?

Just because you’re poor, and life’s served you a bowl of watery warm poodle poo, it doesn’t give you the right to pinch someone else’s gear. Even if they are a mean ugly ogre.

Mila’s Daydreams

I think these are brilliant.

Maybe it’s because I’m a dad.

Or maybe it’s because I’m in advertising and I can see how they would make fantastic ads for something like Drynights or some sleep inducing lavender drops, or a kiddie friendly fabric conditioner.

I actually approached Adele Enerson, the person who created Mila’s Daydreams, about whether she’d been approached by any ad agencies or potential clients about using them in an ad campaign, and she’s actually in advertising herself. Apparently she’s inundated with requests, but doesn’t want to use her child (fair enough) in an ad campaign. And whilst she’s flattered by the attention, wants to keep it as a hobby.

I have no doubt it will be ripped off by someone. Soon.

The only shame about that, is that she won’t be paid handsomely for it. Unless, of course, she sues the arse of them.

Brilliant work. Very original. Cross of Iron me thinks.

The Walls are Talking

The mass majority of wallpaper I usually see is that produced by Ad Agencies. So it was refreshing to see a whole art gallery dedicated to wallpaper designed to inspire. And no, not the latest Halifax ad campaign. This is ‘The Walls Are Talking’ at The Whitworth Gallery in Manchester – a collection by over 30 artists including: Damien Hirst, Andy Warhol, Thomas Demand and Allen Jones.

This isn’t wallpaper you’d find round the mother-in-law’s bungalow. (Unless, she’s a part-time dogger.) No, this stuff is subversive, sexy, subliminal, surreal and loads of other words beginning with S.

But most importantly, it’s original. Unlike most advertising which is, in fact, wallpaper.

It’s a must for Art Directors, Graphic Designers and Illustrators. Heck, it’s a must for everyone – including the Mother-in-law. But you’ll have to be quick – it closes on 30th August.

Damien Hirst - Pharmacy wallpaper

An Original Ad Man

Somewhere between homicide and suicide is Merseyside.

So said the infamous Milton Jones.

However, on a recent jaunt to Liverpool to visit a client I took the opportunity to pop into the Walker Gallery and was rewarded with a life-affirming exhibition of Henri de Toulouse Lautrec’s etchings and prints.

An absolute privilege to be able to view his work up close. Not just for his energetic painting style capturing the seedier side of Parisian nightlife, but also for his art direction and typography.

Over the years we’ve all seen posts about whether advertising can be art, and I’m pretty sure that it can’t whilst it is selling something. I think it can transcend into art after it has served its purpose and becomes era defining.

In Lautrec’s case, I’ll make an exception, as he was already well known for being an artist when  he was commissioned to create posters for various clubs and salons.

Any art director or designer, whether they are interested in art or not, should be aware of the influence of art in layout design purely from a composition point of view.

In this Jane Avril example I love the way he frames the ‘ad’ using the double base. (How many ‘frames’ have we seen like this for contemporary brands?)

If you’re in the North West, and have a penchant for advertising or art, I’d advise you to take a trip to the Walker. It was my first time, and I shall definitely be going again.

One thing that annoys me…

…about the picture of Custer’s last stand that I have used as a banner on my blog is: Why is Custer firing up in the air? Who is he trying to warn? Surely, his meager ammo supply would of been better utilised aimed horizontally toward the hoard of native americans. Or perhaps, saving it for himself. Just a minor irritation. But an irritation none the less. Perhaps I should change it to this one…

Charge of the Light Brigade