Alan Parker, the film director, was being interviewed by Arte, the cultural TV channel that plays across all Europe.
He’d started off as a copywriter at CDP.
He was now Sir Alan Parker, the head of The British Film Institute.
He’d won lots of awards when he was Creative Director at CDP.
He’d won many, many more awards as a commercial’s director.
Then he’d made feature films, which were massive critical and box-office successes on both sides of the Atlantic.
He was one of the main influences in transforming British advertising and British cinema.
He was being interviewed by a typically earnest cultural guru.
The interviewer wanted to start by finding out about Alan’s early influences.
He asked him, “What did your father do?”
Alan said, “My dad was a painter.”
Aha, this was clearly the clue to Alan’s creativity.
The interviewer asked “What sort of painter, how did he use the medium of paint?”
Alan said, “He only ever used one colour really.”
The interviewer was impressed.
He said, “Ah, so he was an avante garde artist?”
Alan said, “No, he painted the railings for British Rail.”
That interviewer didn’t know what to say.
He was expecting a long pretentious answer, citing impressive cultural credentials.
He looked puzzled.
There were clearly no cultural influences there.
No reasons why Alan should be better at mass media than anyone else.
So he moved on to another line of questioning.
Delving and looking for reasons why Alan was great.
But I think the interviewer was wrong.
I think he had the answer to what made Alan great right there.
His dad painted the railings for British Rail.
I think that was Alan’s advantage.
He didn’t grow up treating mass-media seriously.
As the be-all and end-all.
For him it was a bit of fun that went on around real life.
But it wasn’t real life.
Painting the railings for British Rail was real life.
Leaving home every morning at 6.00am to start work outdoors, in the cold and the dark.
That was real life.
Advertising, films, music, photography, books, paintings, stage shows.
That was just what you noticed after you’d handled the real stuff.
Nice but not essential.
If it was good you paid attention to it.
But most of it was crap so you didn’t.
That was the advantage Alan had over people who’d been brought up to take mass media too seriously.
They assumed everyone paid attention to everything that was done in those mediums.
They thought the public was watching what was happening in our world like kids with their noses pressed against a toy-shop window.
Alan knew that wasn’t true.
Over 90% of it wasn’t even noticed.
It was wallpaper.
If it wasn’t different, unusual, if it didn’t have impact, it didn’t even get on the radar.
So that became Alan’s brief.
Not ‘how to do it the right way’.
But ‘how to do it so it gets noticed’.
Big difference.
Big advantage.
He hadn’t learned the rules that everyone gets taught by reading all the case studies.
The case studies that are written after the event and turned into principles for students to learn.
And what have we learned from studying the case studies?
All we’ve learned is how not to have fun.
To take it all too seriously.
Alan didn’t read the case studies because he was too busy actually doing the work.
He was too busy having fun.
Making ads that he knew would make people in the real world watch and laugh.
And if they laughed, they’d notice it.
And if they laughed and noticed it and remembered it, it had a better chance of working than if they didn’t.
You don’t need years of study and a degree to work that out.
That’s what you learn that in the real world.
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I once worked with a really cheerful and light-hearted older man (not in advertising) who every day came to work, greeted us and said:
“Guys, what game shall we play today?”
and went on with this kind of energy every single day. there was no problem for him, just “a game”
lately I was told this was his favourite song (by Chick Corea).
big influence on me.
I’ve enjoyed your post “BUILD YOUR OWN CREATIVE DIRECTOR” as well as this. There seems to be a common thread of not conforming to the expectations of correctness in order to make your point heard and I can’t help but nod my head in agreement and repeat this with a mantra like chant in my head.
Hi Riki,
I listened to the Chick Corea track.
Not nuts about the sound, but I like the sentiment.
hi Dave!
I agree. it’s not the sound, it’s the message.
and the way this guy lived it.
gave whole new context to it.
for me it’s impossible to listen to that song without counting in all the experience I had with that guy.
it’s similar to what somebody else here said about musical context from “Made to Stick” book.
If you want to be treated differently you need to act differently.
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You have to wonder why the interviwer didn’t just ask a direct question too? Where do you think your creativity came from Alan?
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Why are ad agencies packed full of the same people, same back grounds, same education, believe the same things, look the same (you know what I mean), give the same answers to questions, same age groups etc.
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I am doing a session with 6 agency new business managers today about business development and I bet I know what I am going to find already.
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I have a feeling they wont like everything I have to say, but they will nod and say yes and be polite and tell me that my ideas may work for some but not for them because thay are unique, when really they are the same.
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Insanity - doing the same thing and expecting different results
http://ex-blank-page.blogspot.com/2009/11/in-reply-to-daves-great-posts-94-95-96.html
Hi Dave,
Advertising used to be bristling with colourful people. However, reading some of the comments above, it seems to be going through a grey phase in many places. Christmas Parties were insane events and December used to be the month to try and survive hangovers, but I’m sure you guys are going to have a good time. I certainly hope so.
I’ve got an old friend Tom McNally, who used to be Marketing Director at Xerox NY. He’d come over on the QE2 and fly back. Every Summer he’d come to England and we’d go for a meal outside a restaurant in Leicester Square. He told me he loved to “People watch”. It was his favourite pastime. I can see why now. We used to discuss everything and nothing.
A day at Heathrow or Gatwick Airport is full of scenarios. Those little things that make or break a bit of film. The glance of a stranger, weird wigglings of limbs when people become impatient waiting for someone to arrive, or the total boredom or surprise on people’s faces.
It’s amazing what you see when you make yourself become invisible. I even saw a man in Thailand once handing over a set of printing plates to another guy in a boat. They were counterfeiting Dollars.
Another time I just decided to lay down on the sea bed 30 feet down on a sandy shelf in the Red Sea. After 5 minutes, fish curiously came up to me to see why I wasn’t moving. Some of them even tapped their noses on my mask just to see if I was awake like a family dog would. Often the answers are staring us in the face if we just pause for a moment and look. That’s what my old friend taught me… and fish? Swimming around ike people who do everyday jobs, many are more interesting than we think if we just stop to look.
I’ve been picking up wet leaves and painting outdoors all day. My back aches, my head is tired. I tune into the telly and the ads are bollocks. “I want my MTV!”.
Dave
Would say that advertising in this country should exclusively deploy the Socratic method? Asking open questions that allows the intended audience to make their own leap to enlightenment thus giving them a sense of empowerment? Is it known as channelling in everyday parlance or is that something else entirely? Is it a case of “What do we want them to think and/or do?” and then work backwards from there?
Hi John,
I certainly think agencies should employ the Socratic method.
And if the planners/account men/ clients aren’t doing it, then the creatives need to.
Every interaction in life starts with ‘what do I want them to think and/or do’.
Conciously or unconciously.
We want something, that’s why we’re doing it.
Advertising is no different to the rest of life.
David
I think it would be true to say, that Alan Parker, like a lot of U.K. creatives in the sixties and early seventies, did have case studies of great advertising to hand when learning his craft both as a writer and a director. These ‘studies’ were clearly presented, exquisitely written with charm and humour and always guaranteed to be beautifully art directed or skilfully directed and were on every page of the Art Directors club of New York annual.
Just for the record Dave, Alan Parker was never creative director of CDP. He very much wanted to be, but John Pierce (the ‘P’ of ‘CDP’.) had other ideas.
When Alan was told that John Salmon was to be the new CD, Mr Pierce (He was rarely addressed by his first name.) informed him that the agency was setting Alan up in his own production company for him to become a full time film director and was also, I believe, told by John Pierce, that Alan was on his way to Hollywood. Whether that was said in jest or foresight he certainly got it right.
John O’D
John,
I bow to your superior knowledge: you were there, I wasn’t, I was in New York at the time.
But from outside, reading the annuals, it felt like Parker was the spiritual creative leader.
Geoff Seymour told me, as a youngster, he admired the way Parker had a sign at his end of the corridor saying ‘The Creative Departnment Starts Here’.
Although everyone, Webster included, tells me it was always Colin Milward as far as London was concerned.
Gordon agrees with you but says, as it was always Frank everyone was most frightened of, maybe spititually it should be him.
To be fair, it was John Salmon when I was in London.
But I was only ever at BMP, so it’s all hearsay m’lud.
(Anyway, you still haven’t told the Tim Delaney story.)
Yes, it was always Colin Milward.
And no, Alan was never creative director.
And wouldn’t you think that Mr. O’Dri-skull
might be able to spell, correctly, the surname
of one of the founders of an agency he allegedly
worked for.
Ciaran
Hallo John o’Driscoll and Dave Trott, I wasn’t in CDP when they were at the top. By the time I was in London, they were at Euston Road. The fist words John Salmon said to me when I went to show my book was. “we just lost a huge account (think was Barclay’s) so we won’t be hiring and if you don’t want to show your book, that’s fine”.
I thought that was classy. He could have cancelled and never gotten back or not told me the truth.
Anyway, there’s that great “Inside CDP” book and what was different was they got the luminaries to each write a page or two. Seymour, Lowe, Finkie, Brignull, Saatchi (although his piece was typically short).
It’s still in print, I think but what’s really sad is, the price keeps falling. Say this not because I paid 90 quid for it but rather, seems history doesn’t have much of a place for CDP. And weren’t those wonderful days and ads, before the bean counters took over.
@Mr McCabe
Quite common - folks used to confuse Davidson Pearce with CDP Pierce or was it Davidson Pierce and CP Pearce? Anyway, they were both great agencies. Shame they’re no more. For that reason, while I’ve donated my other annuals, I stopped at D&AD.
Hi Ciaran,
I thought it was Pearce not Pierce too.
But as John worked there and I didn’t I figured he’d know better than me.
Since reading your comment however I realise never trust an art director with words and letters.
For the record, my comment on O’D was a tease.
John is a friend (one of two I can claim).
Yes, John Salmon was (is) a class act.
Most people who passed through CDP were.
Ciaran
CDP and class-act are synonymous Ciaran.
So that goes for anyone who worked there.
‘Although everyone, Webster included, tells me it was always Colin Milward as far as London was concerned.’
(Dave. ‘Millward’ is spelt with two ‘L’s.)
John Webster was right Colin WAS the guvnor’. Even now, Alan Parker, David Puttnam and Charlie Saatchi still invoke his name when they talk about their successful careers. In my book he invented it all as far as London is concerned. Nearly all paths of good work in this town lead back to Colin one way or another.
Colin was a very good painter and I think that’s what he always wanted to do instead of being in advertising. I get the feeling he had no respect for it as it was in his opinion, full of fools.
I never worked under Colin, only John Salmon, but I am always told that he had impeccable taste and judgement. Colin set a standard for all to follow and even today old CDP press ads, posters and showreel still bare that out. (The reel is worth a watch Dave if you get a chance. It’ll make you weep but more out of frustration with today’s work rather than any sentimentality in the advertising.)
If you ever get to meet anyone who knew Colin they will always do the same impression of him. (Gordon must know it.) He spoke in a slow Yorkshire accent, (not unlike Brian Clough,) out the side of his mouth and always seemed to be biting a nail.
I found Colin more frightening than Frank. John Kelley and I met up with both Frank and Colin while in New York. (He had retired at this stage but was still a board member and was held in high esteem by the agency, especially by Frank.) We were doing voice-overs for Heineken with Victor Borge (I thought I would chuck that in to show how times have changed,) and Colin and Frank were on their way to Arizona to watch the filming of the Mike Cozens and Alan Waldie’s classic Benson and Hedges ‘Iguana’ commercial. We were all having a drink in the Twin Towers when Frank asked me a question about some casting we were doing on another job. I unfortunately gave a flippant answer like ‘I don’t know Frank?’ Colin jumped in and said “You should do young man, your paid enough” I thought he was joking but the look on his face said he wasn’t. Frank sniggered and turned his face away. (He loved it of course.) This was after spending a very convivial and entertaining lunch and afternoon with Colin. We had spent it wandering around the streets of Manhattan, visiting art galleries, discussing art and other highbrow things that I pretended to know about. I thought he was my mate. No way. Perhaps he saw through me and decided to give me a verbal slap. It worked. It kept me on my guard for the rest of the evening I can tell you. There is another story that Frank tells about how Colin would pretend not to remember your name. Apparently he always insisted on calling Judy Smith ‘Joyce’ even when he was by others and Judy.
One more. (There are loads.) Colin is also is reputedly to have responded to a client’s charge about an ad not being in good taste by pointing out “How can you talk about taste when you are wearing a tie like that!”
Despite the effect and influence Colin Millward had on advertising he never made a bean from the business. From what I know of the man he was quite a frugal and careful with the penny’s. (Remind you of anybody Dave?) I imagine that didn’t bother him much.
John O’D
(Dave. My Tim Delaney story I will tell when you write a blog that is relevant. I can assure it will be even longer than this one!)
I love your stories John.
Give me a clue, what sort of post do I have to write that would provoke your Tim Delaney anecdote?
try murder.
jo’dp