“Make it simple. Make it memorable. Make it inviting to look at. Make it fun to read.” - Leo Burnett
I have had a brief foray into advertising and communication and, even as you read this, I will be at a reunion of friends from the institution where I studied for a post-graduate diploma in advertising and communication. I have since moved on to literature and teaching, but my former classmates are doing well for themselves in advertising and in fields of their choice. Sham, whom I shall be meeting, was executive creative director and vice-president (South) of Grey Worldwide in Bangalore. Now, he’s a partner at State of Unrest, a decidedly cool design firm. Renu is creative director at a firm in Kochi. Many others are independent consultants. Mostly, everyone is following their hearts. At least, that is my hope for them. This article is for the advertising course and for reunions.
In Polish poet Wisława Szymborska’s poem, Advertisement , the poet talks about the merits of prescription medicine. She seems to sell it to us when she says, “I know how to handle misfortune/how to take bad news/I can minimize injustice/lighten up God’s absence/or pick the widow’s veil that suits your face/What are you waiting for—/have faith in my chemical compassion.” It’s an alluring poem, just like tranquilisers often are. The poem ends on an ominous note, “Sell me your soul/There are no other takers/There is no other devil anymore.” The dance with the devil takes on new meaning in the words of the poet.
In, Against Pluralism , Donald Revell speaks of the wise child who understands, “…that his suffering is only one pinpoint/on a lithic hoarding of departures/each passenger reads like an advertisement of heaven.” In Bel Canto , Kenneth Koch says that we, “see the sheep’s advertisement for wool…” and Diane Wakoski feels, “like an advertisement for men’s fashions” when she thinks of a particular set of ankles ( Uneasy Rider ).
There is another side to advertising. Anyone who’s been disappointed by a product that held such great promise in the advertisement will understand what I mean. In The Double-Bed Dream Gallows, Richard Brautigan draws a parallel between “a hawk crucified on a barbed-wire fence,” and the advertisements we see in women’s magazines. The crucified hawk serves as a, “kind of advertisement to other hawks,” but in the poet’s words, “She’s beautiful, but burn all the maps to your body. / I’m not here of my own choosing.” Today, while debate rages on about the use of Photoshop and about the pressures on women, and men, to look a certain way, the poem issues a serious warning.
But we also admire certain ad campaigns more than others. For instance, the Levi’s series, which features Charles Bukowski’s The Laughing Heart in one of its commercials. The words and the voice of singer Tom Waits are hypnotic. The poet urges the reader to not “be clubbed into dank submission.” He assures us that the gods will offer us chances and that we need to know them and to take them. The poem ends on a note of celebration: “your life is your life/ know it while you have it/ you are marvellous/the gods wait to delight in you.”
Advertisements are a reflection of our times and our tastes. That’s another reason why they are important.
