Adland_ Searching for the Meaning of Life on a Branded Planet - James P. Othmer [127]
The second presentation, called “Get Your Green On,” was less sensationally provocative but equally insightful. The green movement is a topic that has been and continues to be discussed ad nauseam, so at first my expectations were low. But when the students laid out their premise—that green means totally different things to, and is acted upon differently by, each demographic (for instance, sixty-year-olds have a distinctly different definition of global warming from twenty-year-olds) and that great things will come to the brands that understand this best—I sat up and opened my notebook.
Having seen both presentations, I made a focus-group-worthy observation of my own: of all the demographic segments that they researched and discussed, the students reserved their harshest criticism for their own generation.
Prelude to a Disemboweling
The most telling thing about the ad school that seemingly has everything is the one thing it is lacking: anything that even remotely resembles a television commercial. Instead of storyboards and headline-driven print ads, at the Brandcenter I saw Web stories, photo essays, viral-video concepts, brand communications platforms. Cartoons.
Here, anything that can make someone take a second look is an ad, and what had previously passed as an ad is a pariah. No one seemed to understand and advocate this more than the students. “They’re not that interested in TV at all,” Boyko said.
I found this hard to believe. I’d been away from making ads for less than two years, and at my agency (which, admittedly, was huge and not terribly progressive) TV was still the most important thing to have in your portfolio, and on your agency’s show reel. And last I checked, TV still captured the lion’s share of total media expenditures. Has it changed that much?
“Yes and no,” Boyko answered. “Clearly the work is heading in a new direction. But sometimes I have to tell them that, you know, you’re still gonna need some ads in your books, some spots on your reel.”
“Do you miss it?” I asked. After all, Boyko had been chief creative officer at a legendary agency, and at one time thought he might be asked to replace Shelly Lazarus as Ogilvy’s CEO. “Do you miss the pace and energy of the agency life?”
He shook his head again. “I was done.”
During my final years in advertising the most rewarding aspect of the job wasn’t selling one of my ads, or winning a piece of business. It was trying to help younger people whom I liked make sense of the process, telling them what (and whom) to watch out for and what steps were needed to make their idea better and maybe even the one that wins. While there’s only so much creative and ethical influence one can have even at a large agency, I imagine for an advertising person of a certain age and status, a leadership gig at a place like the Brandcenter represents an opportunity to exponentially increase the scope and degree of one’s influence.
Why spend years trying to change an agency when you can help shape an entire industry, without worrying about having a knife stuck in your back?
“Some people might think I’m out of the business,” Boyko said. “But I’m not. Sometimes when I travel on behalf of the program, I’ll be in L.A., San Francisco, New York, Boulder, and Chicago and see people that I taught, who came out of our program, making their mark on the industry.”
While we were talking, the Brandcenter’s associate professor Mark Fenske stopped at Boyko’s door and stared at me. Fenske, of course, is also a former boss of mine. The Gatekeeper of the Nincompoop Forest. The man