Wednesday, 12 December 2007
Vivian Stanshall - Crank (Part One)
One of my all time heroes, introduced by one of my other all time heroes.
silliness from Burger King
loving this short doc about the day Burger King took away the whopper
http://www.whopperfreakout.com/
http://www.whopperfreakout.com/
Tuesday, 11 December 2007
kasms at Club Motherfucker 8/12
Rachel screams beautifully. The band are brilliant. Primal. Definite. Rawk. Love it.
cooking the books?
An annual report that has to be baked in an oven before it can be read. Erm, call me old fashioned but I find it a little odd that they want to tell the world that they're cooking the books... More...
Thursday, 6 December 2007
My 12 inches of fame
This was my leaving card from my last agency. Eternal love and respect goes to Andy McKinna who did the whole lot. My most treasured possession.
The button itself
thanks, Katie Craig.
So why the Fuckit button? It was my friend Katie who came up with it. She told me that one of the best things about me is my well-developed fuckit button. I think she meant by this that I'm a plucky little fucker. That I don't let my fear of failure, my embarrassment, my insecurities hold me back. That I'm alive enough to live. (That's not a tautology, by the way). As such, it's the nicest thing anyone has ever said me and will forever be my personal mantra - certainly for work, probably for love, too.
I get very angry with myself when I can't locate my Fuckit Button, or when I wimp out on pressing it. Must try harder.
Wednesday, 5 December 2007
unsubscribe
Latest campaign by Amnesty International
http://www.unsubscribe-me.org/
Harrowing stuff. But sadly necessary.
http://www.unsubscribe-me.org/
Harrowing stuff. But sadly necessary.
long copy
Look, I'm a writer, of course I love long copy ads. Which is why I really wanted to like the new Wispa ads.
But it just doesn't grip me. It's all nostalgia and not enough charm. In fact, I got a bit bored halfway through and started thinking about what I'm going to eat for lunch (I'm hoping they've got a roast on downstairs: they always overcook the beef but roast dinner is roast dinner is roast dinner, no?). Anyway, back to the ad. It took ages to read. And the pay off? The reward? Nothing.
Which made me embark on a search for some decent long copy. Which took me to the site of Neil French. I particularly like this one
and this
But it just doesn't grip me. It's all nostalgia and not enough charm. In fact, I got a bit bored halfway through and started thinking about what I'm going to eat for lunch (I'm hoping they've got a roast on downstairs: they always overcook the beef but roast dinner is roast dinner is roast dinner, no?). Anyway, back to the ad. It took ages to read. And the pay off? The reward? Nothing.
Which made me embark on a search for some decent long copy. Which took me to the site of Neil French. I particularly like this one
and this
this is not a spoof, this was brought.
Truly brilliant. Only a true master could come up with, and sell in, something this silly. Thank you, Mr French.
fight a virus with a virus
Quite an interesting experiment that began in the summer.
Write a sentence to help save lives is an attempt to write a book 'virally', the proceeds of which will be used in the fight against AIDS, tuberculosis and malaria. Clearly form and content is joining up neatly here. Or not so neatly as the case may be: it's a complete mess, the narrative lurching all over the place, much of it utterly inane. Every attempt anyone makes to pin the story down is undone within a few posts, as someone comes in and starts on something completely disconnected. Except the story does move on: there are tiny successes - passages that sparkle with energy, lucid moments that make it all worthwhile.
How very like a virus.
The project's creator, Ann M. Mack, writes:
"Picture this: Hundreds of people from around the world co-authoring a book in the name of a good cause, the fight against AIDS, tuberculosis and malaria.
The idea started out simply enough. As I was walking home from work one sunny Friday afternoon this past June, my mind wandered back to the two and a half hour car ride to my parent’s home in Cleveland following my grandmother’s funeral across the state in Toledo. My brother Jeff and I were trying to entertain his antsy 6-year-old daughter, Frances. I suggested a storytelling game my siblings and I had played as children on car trips—a game where one started a story by coming up with a sentence, another would continue it with another sentence, and a third would say another line and so on.
There it is, I thought. That’s the answer. You see, I had been struggling to figure out what I could do in my grandmother’s memory after her passing in May at age 95. I wanted to do something big. It needed to be something that would do justice to her exemplary life of selflessness.
Though Frances had fallen asleep before our story even began, I wanted to have a go at another one. This time the story would be global and virtual. It would take on a life of its own, and its end product would reflect its countless contributors.
I launched a blog (http://writeasentence.blogspot.com/), posted the first sentence and sent the link to friends, family members and colleagues, asking them to write a sentence of their own and pass the link on to others. The incentive: I envision publishing this as a book and directing the proceeds to the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Tuberculosis and Malaria. My rallying cry has been “Write a sentence to help save lives.” It can’t get any more blunt than that.
What a perfect vehicle for my grandmother’s memory, I thought. Not only did she selflessly care for people throughout her life, but she was a born storyteller; I spent many an evening growing up listening intently to tales of her childhood on the farm in Custer, Ohio, and adulthood in the “big city” (Toledo), where she worked as a beautician, nanny and caterer, married my grandfather and had two children. I realized that contributors to the story would also feel strongly about someone or something in their lives, so I encouraged them to dedicate their writing to that someone or something, too.
The results have been heartening. Since the story began in July, it has attracted contributors ranging in age from 19 to 49 in every corner of the world: New York, London, San Francisco, Minneapolis, Vancouver, Karachi, Manila, Bangkok, Berlin, Beirut, Bombay, Buenos Aires, Bogotá, Dubai, Vienna, Tokyo, Sri Lanka, São Paulo, Stockholm, Dhaka and more. And that isn’t counting those who wrote in anonymously. People have dedicated their sentences to their grandmothers, grandfathers, spouses, children, siblings, friends and others who are dear to them. They have dedicated their contributions to “unspoken desires,” “all those who want to go beyond whispering,” “another day of living” and “the rest of my life.”
I think of this story as a technology-fueled social experiment that is tapping into the collective conscious. It’s open-source innovation on steroids—the creation process in the hands of people of many different nationalities, cultures and backgrounds. The link has been posted all over LinkedIn, MySpace and Facebook, where a group numbers nearly 200.
As one member of the Facebook group observed, “The story appears to be taking on a life of its own. ... I could see me getting quite involved in it.” I agree. It’s been quite a thrill to watch the story unfold day by day. Purposefully, I did not designate a theme or tonality. It’s up to contributors to develop the plot, one person and one sentence at a time.
I have to admit, though, that this has been difficult at times for me (as a type A personality and writer by trade) and the agents and publishers whom I have approached. Decentralizing the authorship means relinquishing control, which can be understandably trying for those in the literary world. The story requires the reader to be open-minded and willing to disavow preconceived notions of how a book should read or a plot should progress. The word I use to describe it is “dreamscape.” (To play into the dreamscape nature of the book, I envision asking artists to donate illustrations and images to help tell the story visually.)
I have come to embrace the unstructured form the book has taken and see it for what it truly is: a demonstration that people of all ages, races, ethnicities and socioeconomic backgrounds can come together when mobilized for a common cause. What a powerful message that is!
So I will continue to encourage people to contribute until my imposed deadline for the story’s conclusion (midnight EST on World Aids Day, December 1, 2007), and I will continue in my efforts to secure a publisher. I will be like my grandmother—one of those headstrong people to whom Juan, a 23-year-old from Bogotá, Colombia, dedicated his sentence: “Those who never see that ‘but’ word in their lives.”
It will be fascinating to see the form this eventually takes - I hope it's well executed. If it's a success, and sells lots of copies, then it really will be some achievement. Good luck to Ann and her team.
Write a sentence to help save lives is an attempt to write a book 'virally', the proceeds of which will be used in the fight against AIDS, tuberculosis and malaria. Clearly form and content is joining up neatly here. Or not so neatly as the case may be: it's a complete mess, the narrative lurching all over the place, much of it utterly inane. Every attempt anyone makes to pin the story down is undone within a few posts, as someone comes in and starts on something completely disconnected. Except the story does move on: there are tiny successes - passages that sparkle with energy, lucid moments that make it all worthwhile.
How very like a virus.
The project's creator, Ann M. Mack, writes:
"Picture this: Hundreds of people from around the world co-authoring a book in the name of a good cause, the fight against AIDS, tuberculosis and malaria.
The idea started out simply enough. As I was walking home from work one sunny Friday afternoon this past June, my mind wandered back to the two and a half hour car ride to my parent’s home in Cleveland following my grandmother’s funeral across the state in Toledo. My brother Jeff and I were trying to entertain his antsy 6-year-old daughter, Frances. I suggested a storytelling game my siblings and I had played as children on car trips—a game where one started a story by coming up with a sentence, another would continue it with another sentence, and a third would say another line and so on.
There it is, I thought. That’s the answer. You see, I had been struggling to figure out what I could do in my grandmother’s memory after her passing in May at age 95. I wanted to do something big. It needed to be something that would do justice to her exemplary life of selflessness.
Though Frances had fallen asleep before our story even began, I wanted to have a go at another one. This time the story would be global and virtual. It would take on a life of its own, and its end product would reflect its countless contributors.
I launched a blog (http://writeasentence.blogspot.com/), posted the first sentence and sent the link to friends, family members and colleagues, asking them to write a sentence of their own and pass the link on to others. The incentive: I envision publishing this as a book and directing the proceeds to the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Tuberculosis and Malaria. My rallying cry has been “Write a sentence to help save lives.” It can’t get any more blunt than that.
What a perfect vehicle for my grandmother’s memory, I thought. Not only did she selflessly care for people throughout her life, but she was a born storyteller; I spent many an evening growing up listening intently to tales of her childhood on the farm in Custer, Ohio, and adulthood in the “big city” (Toledo), where she worked as a beautician, nanny and caterer, married my grandfather and had two children. I realized that contributors to the story would also feel strongly about someone or something in their lives, so I encouraged them to dedicate their writing to that someone or something, too.
The results have been heartening. Since the story began in July, it has attracted contributors ranging in age from 19 to 49 in every corner of the world: New York, London, San Francisco, Minneapolis, Vancouver, Karachi, Manila, Bangkok, Berlin, Beirut, Bombay, Buenos Aires, Bogotá, Dubai, Vienna, Tokyo, Sri Lanka, São Paulo, Stockholm, Dhaka and more. And that isn’t counting those who wrote in anonymously. People have dedicated their sentences to their grandmothers, grandfathers, spouses, children, siblings, friends and others who are dear to them. They have dedicated their contributions to “unspoken desires,” “all those who want to go beyond whispering,” “another day of living” and “the rest of my life.”
I think of this story as a technology-fueled social experiment that is tapping into the collective conscious. It’s open-source innovation on steroids—the creation process in the hands of people of many different nationalities, cultures and backgrounds. The link has been posted all over LinkedIn, MySpace and Facebook, where a group numbers nearly 200.
As one member of the Facebook group observed, “The story appears to be taking on a life of its own. ... I could see me getting quite involved in it.” I agree. It’s been quite a thrill to watch the story unfold day by day. Purposefully, I did not designate a theme or tonality. It’s up to contributors to develop the plot, one person and one sentence at a time.
I have to admit, though, that this has been difficult at times for me (as a type A personality and writer by trade) and the agents and publishers whom I have approached. Decentralizing the authorship means relinquishing control, which can be understandably trying for those in the literary world. The story requires the reader to be open-minded and willing to disavow preconceived notions of how a book should read or a plot should progress. The word I use to describe it is “dreamscape.” (To play into the dreamscape nature of the book, I envision asking artists to donate illustrations and images to help tell the story visually.)
I have come to embrace the unstructured form the book has taken and see it for what it truly is: a demonstration that people of all ages, races, ethnicities and socioeconomic backgrounds can come together when mobilized for a common cause. What a powerful message that is!
So I will continue to encourage people to contribute until my imposed deadline for the story’s conclusion (midnight EST on World Aids Day, December 1, 2007), and I will continue in my efforts to secure a publisher. I will be like my grandmother—one of those headstrong people to whom Juan, a 23-year-old from Bogotá, Colombia, dedicated his sentence: “Those who never see that ‘but’ word in their lives.”
It will be fascinating to see the form this eventually takes - I hope it's well executed. If it's a success, and sells lots of copies, then it really will be some achievement. Good luck to Ann and her team.
Friday, 30 November 2007
Wow
This is way beyond celebrity endorsement. Branded content gets its blockbuster, and I'm reminded why I'm in this industry.
www.scorsesefilmfreixenet.com
Find out more about the project here
www.scorsesefilmfreixenet.com
Find out more about the project here
Tuesday, 27 November 2007
Interactive simplicity
I really like Arcade Fire's new video
The whole interactive thing could be gimmicky but the execution is so beautifully simple that it avoids it. Somehow the control / not control dynamic feels right. One of the challenges of interactive is get around the limitations of digital, the suspension of disbelief the medium demands, and the fact that it can never be quite as interactive as you'd like it to be. (I'd like to be proved wrong on that, but I haven't yet.)
But here, the limitations of the experience (you can't make him do a lot) seems to be part of the creative idea - which lifts this into the category of 'things that are what they are' rather than 'things that attempt to simulate what they depict'. Good creative is always the former.
The whole interactive thing could be gimmicky but the execution is so beautifully simple that it avoids it. Somehow the control / not control dynamic feels right. One of the challenges of interactive is get around the limitations of digital, the suspension of disbelief the medium demands, and the fact that it can never be quite as interactive as you'd like it to be. (I'd like to be proved wrong on that, but I haven't yet.)
But here, the limitations of the experience (you can't make him do a lot) seems to be part of the creative idea - which lifts this into the category of 'things that are what they are' rather than 'things that attempt to simulate what they depict'. Good creative is always the former.
Monday, 26 November 2007
Bata-ville
Wildly inspired by this:
'Bata-ville is a bittersweet record of a coach trip to the origins of the Bata shoe empire in Zlin in the Czech Republic. Against the backdrop of regeneration in their local communities, former employees of the now-closed UK shoe factories in East Tilbury (Essex) and Maryport (Cumbria) are led on a journey that begins as a free holiday but soon becomes an opportunity for a collective imagining of what entrepreneur Tomas Bata's maxim "We are not afraid of the future" means for them in 21st century Britain. Inspired by the contrast between the idealism of Bata and the more recent industrial decline of East Tilbury and Maryport, host / directors Pope & Guthrie lead this unorthodox coach party on a journey through Bata's legacy.'
The artists, Karen Guthrie and Nina Pope, are shortlisted for the Northern Art Prize and have created an installation (centered around an extraordinary film).
Armed with no prior knowledge of the project (and having never heard of Tomas Bata), as I was pouring over all this carefully collated memorabilia and watching this charming documentary, I began to doubt whether it was real. The thought crossed my mind that Tomas Bata could just be a character the artists had invented; an expression of that moment in time, before utopias became something to be afraid of, and optimism something to be scorned. Interestingly, the person I went with had independently arrived at a similar position of distrust.
We were completely wrong of course, but I'm fascinated by my reaction. I loved the piece when I thought it might be pure fiction. It didn't feel insincere, but it felt too...idealistic yet knowing, to be real. Which of course is down to the way Guthrie and Pope have dealt with their subject. The fact that we have such doubts and suspicions seems to say a lot about where we are now - and the importance of context. If it hadn't been a art gallery then I very much doubt I would have gone off on this bizarre sceptical journey. So does that mean I expect art to spin untruths?
So many questions about this that I can't even frame. I mean, how unrealistic was the Bata's vision? And if it was reasonable then how do we cope with the failure - our failure....?
And the funniest thing? My instant 'check' for 'proof' and reassurance was to tap the name into Google. Because if it doesn't show up in google then it's not real...
'Bata-ville is a bittersweet record of a coach trip to the origins of the Bata shoe empire in Zlin in the Czech Republic. Against the backdrop of regeneration in their local communities, former employees of the now-closed UK shoe factories in East Tilbury (Essex) and Maryport (Cumbria) are led on a journey that begins as a free holiday but soon becomes an opportunity for a collective imagining of what entrepreneur Tomas Bata's maxim "We are not afraid of the future" means for them in 21st century Britain. Inspired by the contrast between the idealism of Bata and the more recent industrial decline of East Tilbury and Maryport, host / directors Pope & Guthrie lead this unorthodox coach party on a journey through Bata's legacy.'
The artists, Karen Guthrie and Nina Pope, are shortlisted for the Northern Art Prize and have created an installation (centered around an extraordinary film).
Armed with no prior knowledge of the project (and having never heard of Tomas Bata), as I was pouring over all this carefully collated memorabilia and watching this charming documentary, I began to doubt whether it was real. The thought crossed my mind that Tomas Bata could just be a character the artists had invented; an expression of that moment in time, before utopias became something to be afraid of, and optimism something to be scorned. Interestingly, the person I went with had independently arrived at a similar position of distrust.
We were completely wrong of course, but I'm fascinated by my reaction. I loved the piece when I thought it might be pure fiction. It didn't feel insincere, but it felt too...idealistic yet knowing, to be real. Which of course is down to the way Guthrie and Pope have dealt with their subject. The fact that we have such doubts and suspicions seems to say a lot about where we are now - and the importance of context. If it hadn't been a art gallery then I very much doubt I would have gone off on this bizarre sceptical journey. So does that mean I expect art to spin untruths?
So many questions about this that I can't even frame. I mean, how unrealistic was the Bata's vision? And if it was reasonable then how do we cope with the failure - our failure....?
And the funniest thing? My instant 'check' for 'proof' and reassurance was to tap the name into Google. Because if it doesn't show up in google then it's not real...
Saturday, 17 November 2007
audience participation like.no.other
http://www.walkmanproject.com/
Except everyone has been trying to do something like this (I presented something similar last year for a social networking start-up I was working on and I'm sure im not the only one). It will be interesting to see if they can generate the users. The execution is good, and I spent a good 10 minutes exploring the site. But it feels like a lot of effort to contribute. They're relying on the geeks to get it going. I'd be interested in the research they presumably carried out to get this through. I enjoyed the interactive banner, too (but I can't locate a link for it now - if anyone can, please do).
Except everyone has been trying to do something like this (I presented something similar last year for a social networking start-up I was working on and I'm sure im not the only one). It will be interesting to see if they can generate the users. The execution is good, and I spent a good 10 minutes exploring the site. But it feels like a lot of effort to contribute. They're relying on the geeks to get it going. I'd be interested in the research they presumably carried out to get this through. I enjoyed the interactive banner, too (but I can't locate a link for it now - if anyone can, please do).
Berlin
Berlin is fun, in a soggy sort of way. We're staying miles out (in the forest) but the hostel is nice and we have free web access. Yesterday we went exploring and saw lots of lovely brutal GDR housing, as well as Norman Foster's silly Reichstag.Went to a vegan anarchist hangout for lunch. A couple sat down at the table next to us and I heard a familiar voice, and...fuck-me-it's-MIMI-what-the-fuck-are-you-doing-here??
We live in a crazy world. Neither of us knew each other was even in Berlin!
Later, we were trying to get back to our hostel, struggling, and realising that it was miles away -about 3 tube lines and 2 buses...and this guy on the tube was smirking at us, so we got chatting, and ended up getting off the tube with him to meet his brother at this crazy wine bar. It's a mad set up - you pay 1 euro and get a glass, then you just help yourself and give a donation for each glass.
Trashed, we left and went off to a party at Tyler Durden's squat.
Tonight we go dancing. Berlin is good.
We live in a crazy world. Neither of us knew each other was even in Berlin!
Later, we were trying to get back to our hostel, struggling, and realising that it was miles away -about 3 tube lines and 2 buses...and this guy on the tube was smirking at us, so we got chatting, and ended up getting off the tube with him to meet his brother at this crazy wine bar. It's a mad set up - you pay 1 euro and get a glass, then you just help yourself and give a donation for each glass.
Trashed, we left and went off to a party at Tyler Durden's squat.
Tonight we go dancing. Berlin is good.
audio
Stumbled on this recently - my old band, Shima. We were 18 and listening to far too much Slint and Mogwai. It's long and rambling but there's an incredible bit at the end when I hit a pre-set beat on my keyboard. The Fuck It Button is born.
‘Feel The Fear’ recorded live at the Cavern Exeter 2000
Produced and released by Satellites and Clouds recordings. Taken from wordsforthedisillusioned EP (final track) by Shima - released April 04SATC004Copyright Satellites and Clouds
Little adults
Every time I go to the Farmer's Market in Stoke Newington, I'm haunted by an old Community Centre Moog song. Uncomfortably, I'm beginning to realise that I'll probably send my kids to Woodcraft Folk. The ghost of the Exeter I fled is tapping.
Little Adults have already learned self control, so bigger adults don't need to control. Little Adults know they only live once, so they save themselves for someone else. Little Adults will practice to leave home; leave the youth group, say goodbye to good ol' Big Chris - and say goodbye to the pet that was to teach them of death. And the tennis ball goes round and round connected to the piece of string in the garden.
Little Adults have already learned self control, so bigger adults don't need to control. Little Adults know they only live once, so they save themselves for someone else. Little Adults will practice to leave home; leave the youth group, say goodbye to good ol' Big Chris - and say goodbye to the pet that was to teach them of death. And the tennis ball goes round and round connected to the piece of string in the garden.
Kasms @ Ryan's Bar, Stoke Newington 09.11.07 (a review)
A review.
He appears; careless and dominant
Like Sid Viscious minus the insecurity.
Worming his way to the stage
(Bathing in the gaze, the space)
The grace
As he starts to bang
Out a patriarchal pounding
Rhythm, driven, with him
And her
Purring into her microphone.
A peak of red suspender belt
Beneath the cocktail dress - rising
She groans
Snared by the ride:
His.
He fucks; we watch.
Her?
The cunt.
Find out more at www.myspace.com/kasmskasms
He appears; careless and dominant
Like Sid Viscious minus the insecurity.
Worming his way to the stage
(Bathing in the gaze, the space)
The grace
As he starts to bang
Out a patriarchal pounding
Rhythm, driven, with him
And her
Purring into her microphone.
A peak of red suspender belt
Beneath the cocktail dress - rising
She groans
Snared by the ride:
His.
He fucks; we watch.
Her?
The cunt.
Find out more at www.myspace.com/kasmskasms
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