Wabi-Sabi, shit loads of talent, and advertising in a perfect world...

I’ve never been a big fan of the concept of a perfect world.

Imperfection is much more interesting.

Sometimes much more satisfying. Occasionally much more beautiful.

Ask the Japanese. Google the term Wabi-sabi.

Perfection is sneaky.

It’s insidious.

It’s too friggin’ satisfying one minute…and a smug, two-faced bastard the next.

It curls its tentacles around you in an embrace that threatens to squeeze all the breath out of your lungs. All the forward motion out of your legs.

It’s the destination that doesn’t care about the journey. Doesn’t give a damn about stopping to admire the view.

All it cares about is never fucking up.

So occasionally, I have to remind myself just what living in a perfect world might be like.

Here’s a little glimpse…

The business of advertising might work something like this.

Ad agencies would be staffed by people with shit loads of talent.

They would regard what they do as important and valuable and enjoyable and fun. They would regard it as something they’re pretty damned good at. Great even.

Their friends would think they’re intelligent, highly cool, and very well paid.

They would work hard and play hard…and never make mistakes.

Agencies would be places where the science of marketing and the art of creativity would constantly get nekkid and make babies designed to push forward the boundaries of buying and selling.

Clients would trust their agencies to always go the extra mile for them. Always have their best interests at heart. Always give them every last drop of their blood, sweat, and tears.

And always produce great work with a big idea slap bang at the centre of it.

Clients would never think they could do the job that agencies could do. Just as agencies would never think they could do the job that clients could do.

Neither would buy a dog and then do their own barking.

Copy would be written by writers. Images would be conceived by art directors. Or vice versa. Or both. Copy would be as short as it needs to be. Or as long as it needs to be. Images would be as large as they need to be. Or as small as they need to be.

There would be boundaries. But they would be there to be crossed.

Sometimes reconfigured. There would be rules. But they would be there to be bent. Sometimes shattered.

Old school would marry new school and they would live happily ever after.

Nobody would give a damn about age. Only about ability.

Clients’ customers, or potential customers, would see/read/act on ads that were meant to be seen (and read and acted on) by them and nobody else.

The forward motion of successful buying and selling would be fuelled by the spirit of healthy competition.

The odd cut-price punch-up or technological advance celebration would be deemed acceptable. It might even be encouraged. Spilled blood would be cleaned away quickly and efficiently.

Customers would make concerted efforts to buy only those products or services that interested them. Clients, through their ad agencies, would make it easy for them to do so.

Industry awards, creative or otherwise, would be wonderful to win, but totally irrelevant compared to the real job of advertising.

To sell stuff. As much stuff as possible. As often as possible.

Creating award-winning campaigns (and boasting about them) would be of no interest whatsoever to customers. Only to those who make stuff, sell stuff, and advertise stuff.

People who buy stuff would only be interested in where they can get it, how they can get it, when they can get it, how much (or little) it’s going to cost them…and how it’s going to make their lives easier or better.

People who sell or advertise stuff would only be interested in taking all the facts and figures that go with the products or services…putting them to one side in a neat pile…then entertaining customers with a bloody big idea that kicked seven kinds of shit out of the competition. Eight on a good day. More on a great day.

Creatives in agencies would only be interested in making clients’ products or services stand out from, and appear better than, their competitors’ products or services. They’d work like hell to make sure that their big ideas would be bigger (and better) than everyone else’s big ideas.

And they’d know which customers to talk to. Where to talk to them. What to say. And how to say it.

Sounds bloody perfect, right?

My arse.

Like I said…perfection is sneaky. It’s too friggin’ satisfying one minute…and a smug, two-faced bastard the next.

It was never meant to be achieved. Only journeyed towards. Occasionally glimpsed from afar.

With the odd exception, of course. Dave Abbott's Father’s Day ad being one of them.

The thing is…

Once we open the door to a perfect world…once everyone does what they’re supposed to do…once everything works like clockwork…once nobody fucks up ever again…once everything goes right and nothing goes wrong…once everyone can be brilliantly creative…once we have all the answers…

Why the hell should we bother asking any more questions?

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