This is a story of how I created and produced a particular project, one that both delighted and challenged me; one that let me trust my instincts, benefit from my experiences and take some calculated risks. I’m happy with the results, yet it may or may not be some of my best work. Hopefully this story will be interesting, even instructional, to some.

Here’s an outline:

• Contact
• Prologue
• Acceptance
• Hello, anyone home?
• What are the criteria?
• Never mind the criteria
• Trust me
• This is fun
• This is scary
• This is tedious
• This is done

Contact

It started innocently enough with an email.

Are you up for doing a poster for my neighbor’s concert/block party. its Sept 12. He asked if you would be willing. Joan.

Which is how last year’s poster pretty much started out.

Prologue

The venue is a little neighborhood in the West [Greenwich] Village in New York City. One short street named Cornelia, with a handful of restaurants and shops, would be closed to automobiles for a late summer evening, and a stage with a giant tarp angled behind it, tied to trees and fire escapes would be the backdrop. Very casual yet professional. Trumpeter Leif Arntzen, a Cornelia Street resident would not only headline the event, but initiate it, put up the stage and the money for all of it – after convincing the locals it’d be worth it. As he did last year, Leif would take the broadside file to a local repro shop and make 50 or so laser prints on 11 x 17, then find homes for them in storefront windows and on lamp posts.

Acceptance

I was fairly busy when the request came in, but really craved an assignment where some expression would likely be expected. This would be my second time helping Leif and my friend Joan (another Cornelia resident) – at no charge – and would be a chance to cut loose and outdo last year’s edition. An added bonus: I’d have a bit more than the one week I had last year to turn it around.

Hello, anyone home?

Sure I was eager, but this was a freebie and I was busy, so it had to get started. I tossed out a few emails to Leif, cc’d Joan, even hoping to meet with Leif when I’d soon be driving into Manhattan for an after-hours tour of Pentagram (yes, that Pentagram) from Joan, a project manager there (another story) at the time. I lazily awaited word of what might be any different than last year. But no direct, helpful replies came. And the studio tour fell through, so…

What are the criteria?

A week or so had gone by. I now asked more pointed questions via email regarding what was important to communicate with this poster.

Never mind the criteria

The reply from Leif (the musician client) was not the tidy outline of salient points I’d hoped for but a rather poetic rambling, an imagining of the stage being set up, with him taking to the stage… The email concluded with

You can edit or expand as needed, or toss it and tell me ‘Leif, that makes no sense whatsoever – it’s a *&^(*&^ poster, man!’

Hmmm. First impulse was “Oh, great…thanks a lot” but then I made a decision to roll with it, take inspiration from his nebulous-but-energetic missive and get to work.

Trust me

I took a calculated gamble (remembering that my quickly-turned 2008 poster was well received) by attempting a translation of the spirit in Leif’s email, knowing that would be the backbone of a solution. My emailed response back was

Thanks for the feedback. I get it; I’ll interpret all you said in a strictly positive manner, and forge ahead with something that should be fun for us all.

This is fun

My good friends Paper and Pencil begged me to begin. I wanted to see energy. I wanted to hear music. Recalling how enjoyable last year’s street concert was, germs of ideas sprouted. Bing! Bam! One rough idea after another, as quickly as possible, trying to rope the elusive essence of a screaming, but melodic, free-form trumpet and pin it to paper, over and over. Take chances. Cast that straight line out and snap it into a curve! I didn’t necessarily decide then that an illustration was coming. Rather, I was simply imagining on paper what kind of happened-upon poster would seduce my senses and provide me some window into what the music was about. Included below are 3 pages of sketches, most involving a trumpet with either swirling or zig-zagging lines See if you can find the “chosen” one.

My wife took a peek at these and liked a few ideas, but time felt tight, so going on gut instinct was my decision. At this point, an illustration was inevitable. Able to create and to enjoy doing illustration, I don’t really call myself an illustrator. Mine need to be within certain parameters, and have, oh, let’s call it a wide margin of error. My love of drawing goes back to childhood, and messing up sheets of paper is a real pleasure, but a finished, polished product is a bit intimidating. But an executive decisions was needed, and this designer blurted out “I can do that!” and away we went.

My favorite doodle, the tiny bird-in-trumpet one, got slapped onto the scanner, greatly enlarged, and framed up to see what sort of room I’d have for accompanying text. The illustration would be relatively tall on an 11×17 inch broadside, and I saw two choices: the art needed to be small enough, allowing a reasonably large rectangle, above or below, for text, or the art could sit comfortably in the middle and – somehow – the text could surround it. How am I going to fit all this different text about the event into this weird, uneven shape? Very little type will fit above or below the center art… last year’s was similar; I used the really brief info like time and date in the narrow side areas… hmmm…

Right here was probably my biggest thrill in this whole dragged out story. Deciding, at this very point, to commit to the idea of me creating a ‘finished’ illustration somehow surrounded by text. And to go boldly and move swiftly…

The scanned thumbnail went into Illustrator and drawing… brushing… whatever… commenced. I use the app enough but don’t freehand illustrate a lot with it, so I kept things simple with a uniform line weight. Progress needed to be made; not a lot of time to experiment. With my Wacom tablet and some Bezier curves, I captured a good amount of the doodle’s spontaneity. Next phase was building up shapes of color, starting with yellow and adding progressively darker warm tones. Part of me said “refer to a photo and “add some white to the reflections”. The other part of me simply pushed on. A similar process followed for rendering the bird. The original doodled fowl looked a bit tentative, even anxious, so his personality got a tweaking and ended up more relaxed, even aloof?

Perhaps the second biggest thrill in the process, and certainly the most meditative-yet-fun aspect was the surrounding lettering itself. I had no doubt it could be done, somehow, and that’s a great feeling, one worth getting lost in. So the .AI illustration file, with its thin gray border was opened in Acrobat and printed from my color inkjet. Into the cabinet for my trusty pad of tracing paper, and with some white artist’s tape I hinged a sheet to the print, for easily peeking at will under the vellum.

This is scary

As confident as I was, this was a lettering-to-fit project and as such was a high-wire juggling act of sorts, constant planning and adjusting; leaping ahead and returning to compensate; always looking ahead, around and under the vellum. And let’s hope that when it’s finished, there’s not either a typo or a text change! Note the eraser along with my mechanical pencil. It and it’s larger rectangular cousin got a decent workout along the way. But I worked carefully and methodically, always striving for that elusive liquid look. Challenging too was treating priority and not-so-priority information respectively. Even though color would eventually help to organize the presentation of all this amorphous text, you really have to avoid burying key info in such a stew. Again, constant planning and adjusting…

This is hard

When completed, the penciled-tracing-and-inkjet sandwich was scanned, the penciled area’s levels adjusted for readability, and this rough pdf proof was emailed to the client. Who I didn’t hear from for a day or two, but happily he loved it. And it had to work… I’d invested a decent amount of work in it. My friend Joan, advising the client, asked about a rain date – D’oh! Overlooked that whole notion (sure enough, it was on last year’s version)!

An area needed to be found to add this and quick. I erased about a third of the lettering in the right/lower right and got to work. The image of a dripping poncho seemed like a good idea for a containing shape for the rain date, but it had to be positioned and sized to be among the last items a viewer would focus on – and still allow room for the critical date/time and other key text.

Once those repairs were made it was time to ink all the lettering. Not all that familiar with autotracing in Illustrator CS3, I aimed to be as detailed, neat and precise as possible, so that the tracing would go smoothly. A rather painstaking operation, I carefully outlined each letter with various widths of fine black markers. Some letters were left rather ambiguous in the pencil stage, so I had to make confident and careful strokes to avoid the hesitation wiggles I sometimes suffer when trying to follow a precise guide line with ink. After outlining each character, a slightly thicker pen was used to make an inner-stroke of sorts. So it was akin to outlining every letter a second time, with only slightly less precision. The purpose of all that fine-lining was to allow each character’s final interior inking to be done more quickly, with a fatter marker.

This is tedious

As pleasurable as losing myself in this technique was, there was other paying work to complete! I soon found myself wondering, complaining and ultimately regretting this path. So much detail work (sometimes while wearing two pairs of reading glasses for comfortable magnification) and cussing each time a line ever-so-slightly wobbled, was not time well spent, with regard to the goal of bringing the art into Illustrator. I now think autotracing could have easily ignored the interior aspects of each character, or could have been used to efficiently deal with these un-filled spaces. But I must admit the different types of satisfaction – aesthetic and technical – in seeing the finished inking, with all characters filled solid black, before laying in on the scanner glass.

Once the inked art was in Illustrator, I toyed with the idea of making the tracing super-precise; I did after all want the hand-crafted nuance (not to mention all the time I burned) to be captured precisely. But the thought of then editing a hundred or so paths, with thousands of anchor points, times two control handles each, made me groan with dread. I just couldn’t afford another lengthy phase of detail work on a free job with only days left to deliver.

I instead opted for a looser, more forgiving fit of the traced contours. Minor fiddling with the options gave me a surprisingly acceptable (or as my dad would often say, “perfectly good”) result which fit in well with the intended character of the overall design. Because there was no real color strategy, I new there would be experimenting with the text coloring in the actual file. I have to admit here that color strategy is not a strength of mine. Perhaps a real illustrator would have worked out some ideas ahead of time on paper? Maybe. But I already had the central illustration, colored, in the file, so in the file seemed like a natural and efficient place to determine color. Settled. It was now time to assemble individual characters into composite paths, based on my improvised decisions regarding how colors and words would be split.

Here’s where I fast-forward through scores of separate color choices I made. It was fun, but a lot of work. At times, 75 percent of the color seemed to be worked out, but then something wouldn’t make sense, or a color used in another area was now needed over here which of course had a ripple effect and undermined earlier progress. But that’s the stuff of creativity and improvisation in particular – confidence in one’s ability to pull a rabbit out of a hat, built upon year after year of successes.

This is done

The finished broadside design

Epilogue

The nighttime event itself was enjoyable to be sure, but because the blocked-off, narrow street was lined with mostly brick buildings, and because the simple stage was backdropped by a large, dark brown-looking tarp (all nicely done, mind you!) I was struck with an overall impression of warmth and warm colors versus the somewhat more festive colors of my broadside’s palette. Although it was open to all, and was a truly inspired and energetic event, it was really a neighborhood event. And the neighbors, including the restaurant patrons – arriving, departing and loitering – were not rowdy, with only few dancing briefly. It was perhaps a more intimate affair than what my design suggested. I’m not at all unhappy with my work; just something to note for next year.

Thanks for hanging on to the end, dear reader!

The last, last word

Just received some photos (very top and below) from the event (photos by Nick Daddazio, a long time Cornelia Street resident and sculptural artist). I think you’ll see what I meant in my epilogue. What a great time with great music, all thanks to Mr. Leif Arntzen.

Who let you people in here!?

This is in reply to a blog post by Judy Dunn at Cat’s Eye Marketing regarding the folly of spam as a marketing tool for small business – or most businesses for that matter. You won’t find any controversy between us though; I agree with her. I’m just building on her position.

Spam in sheep’s clothing is still spam.

Many many small businesses and micro-businesses are naively or knowingly generators of uninvited and unwelcome e-marketing and e-sales “content”. Lured by the extremely low cost of email marketing, these stressed out, downsized (and desperate?) businesses assume that more is better! “Send our message, pitch, special-of-the-week or news out to anyone and everyone!”

This buck shot approach is not only annoying to the recipients, but is also a careless approach to relationship building. The senders are playing a transparent numbers game, one that counts on a response rate upwards of 3 percent, but one that gambles with, and usually squanders, a potential dialog. Odds are that any future conversation has been forfeited once the reader dispatches these intrusions to Hades’ basement.

But wait you ask, what exactly are you labeling spam?

And how’s an novice e-marketer supposed to know who treats what as spam. Isn’t this all a rather subjective greased pig? I began my previous paragraph naming “uninvited” and “unwelcome” as traits you don’t want associated with your emails. Think of emails you’ve received that prompted “I didn’t ask for this” or “I could care less about this” or simply “*&#@‡‹> SPAM!”

But it gets worse.

It’s bad enough when spammers are from some towering corporate giant, or from a zip code in another time zone, or worse – anonymous, hunkered down in their clandestine spam factories somewhere east of Warsaw. It’s quite another thing receiving junk from people who are members of a local organization you belong to! My local chamber of commerce is perhaps the biggest and most successful in Northern NJ. And they hold appropriately frequent networking – and other – events, etc. etc. They really do a great job. But apparently the easy-to-access list of member businesses on the web site is just too tempting for the business-lead deprived. I’m getting more and more unsolicited e-newsletters, brimming with paragraph after paragraph of technically specific information. Estate planning, hiring, accounting, co-location, office relocation, yoga, chiropractic, cross-country moving specials, reverse mortgages and promotional products, to name a few. Some lead-off with “Dear Fellow Chamber Member” (or words to that effect); others don’t.

What most all have in common is a lack of manners coupled with an assumption that I’m intensely interested in their business (perhaps I should add uninteresting to my spam definition?). I even gave these fellow chamber members the benefit of the doubt, and checked if I had accepted a business card from them at some meeting (which is still no license to spam me). Nope. They just found me on the chamber site’s listing and mailed away.

I’m not a good prospect… but you should know that.

:: The Mark ::

My graphic design business is a one-man shop, perched in a home office above my garage. Not to disparage my setup by any means – it’s downright enviable – but I’m small time. I don’t have a lot of business overhead. Point is, if a marketer took a moment to a) research me or b) engage me in a simple conversation before talking at me, he/she would not have alienated me with uninvited and unwelcome (and uninteresting) “news.” One recent “Introduction Message” email worked very hard through its copywriting to talk to [at] me about the economy, followed by, “That is why I have just added your name to my address book. I will be sending you periodic e-briefs…blah blah blah” It then signed off with “Thanks for allowing me to include you in my address book…” GUFFAW! As if! I don’t want to pick on just that one case. Tactics vary. Nearly all fail. And yes, because my first impressions were negative, I’m unlikely to recommend them to anyone else, let alone do business with them… or remain on their mailing list. Spammer please!

Conversely, had they sent me an invitation to converse, with the stated or unstated goal of “training” me to recommend them (and ideally, encouraging me to do the same) I’d have formed a whole different impression, which would have paid off for them in the long run. I’ll admit that approach takes some work, certainly involving more effort than carpet-bombing the regional business community with newsletters. But that’s where a strategy of engagement trounces mindless tactics. I suggest you resolve to do better with your mailing list. If you scoff at doing a few minutes’ research for each lead, at least work with a writer and romance your leads a bit! Talk to us like human beings and not at us like compliant little pieces of data.

Rant over. Perhaps next time I’ll highlight relationship strategies that I think worked.

Update, July 2nd:

I’m considering updating this post when I’m struck by exquisite examples of mindless spam from my local chamber of commerce or other networking colleagues.

In today’s example, I get two identical emails, one minute apart, from the same local business. That alone is plenty irksome, but the subject read, “something interesting from XYZ LLC” [name substituted of course]. Fine. I open it to read “Happy 4th of July” in red text. That’s it! Oh, except for the closing, “Thank you for being part of my day,” followed by the eight-line signature, followed by the 80-word confidentiality notice, finished off with the microsoft.com text advertisement at very bottom.

I’ve never had a meaningful conversation with this business, certainly nothing more than a brief introduction. This seemingly harmless holiday wish implies that we have a relationship beyond me receiving their sporadic emails, but trust me we don’t. The worst offense though has to be the teaser subject, “something interesting…” First of all, I’ll be the judge of how interesting any of your emails are; and secondly it’s classic bait-and-switch – much better to wish me a happy 4th in the subject, and let it go at that. Time for me to get off the soapbox now and start up some meaningful conversations with my colleagues about appropriate uses of email.

With a little bit of effort, you can create or improve your online image.

Regardless of which networking sites you frequent, your avatar or profile photo says something about you. We both know how you get when you choose your clothing prior to meeting a client or a heading out for a date – you may have pulled out the killer shirt or blouse, but if it’s been wrinkled or is missing a button, you’re not going to just throw it on, right? This calls for sprucing-up, repairing… or even tossing in favor of a better option. Same process applies to your virtual self, the face you present to the online world.

Obviously, you’re a good-looking person – there’s no disputing that you’re a unique and one-in-a-million personality. Hey, there’s been no violent backlash to your picture, so you know you’re doing something right.

Let me just interject here and say that I was in an online community this morning. I was reviewing a few people who were recommended to the community at large, as worthy of connecting with. I recoiled when I clicked on the link to a certain woman’s profile! One hyphenated phrase screamed inside my head: zombie-vampire! Now that sounds really unfair, I know. But I’ve seen many, many online avatars and none had scared (or scarred) me until today. Jeesh!

But let’s move on. The first part of your strategy you should be to think ahead. You’ll want to display a consistent image across different networks – even if you’re just starting out – because you’ll soon learn that no one site will give you universal reach and presence. In time, you’ll want to be quickly recognized, even before your name is read. People are comforted by the immediate visual phenomenon of “I know that person..!” even before they confirm your identity. Congratulations! In a split second, you’ll have taken one of many small steps to to reinforce your “personal brand” by presenting yourself consistently. And of course, with each viewing the recognition only builds.

Your next step should be a great photo. If you’re serious about your business presence, then invest in a professional photo – make some calls. You don’t have to go to a high-priced studio; there may be neighborhood photo service businesses that also will take decently-lit portraits.  Another option is to have a friend (preferably with a tripod) shoot you (with a camera). The last resort for most of you is to shoot yourself (again, with a camera). But the whole reason I‘m writing this is that I suspect most online portraits are self-induced.

In any case, here’s a big secret. Ready? Shoot lots – and I mean lots – of photos! I can’t stress this one tip enough. No matter who’s pulling the trigger, insist on many choices. And assuming the lighting is decent, change your approach to each shot – smile, turn your head, tilt your head, poke your own cheek, laugh (yes, laugh!), tilt the camera, etc. I’m not a photographer, but there’s plenty of do-it-yourself advice online about basic portraiture, inexpensive studio set ups, taking advantage of natural light, etc. I’m willing to bet you’ll even have fun.

Now… here’s where we talk about kicking it up a notch, by making your image even more unique, to elevate your visage above those of others… the other brunettes, the other bald guys (count me as one) the other posing couples… you get the idea.

Surprise yourself. I know I surprised myself when I settled on an image from my pocket video camera! Wandering around an outdoor flea market one sunny Sunday, I had just bought a pair of reflective blue shades. Aiming the camera at myself, I commented about the new purchase, or the mountain of olive oil cans stacked in the sun, or the ugly glass sculptures on display…who knows). I later took a single frame from that footage and messed with it in Photoshop, tweaking colors, etc.

But the single best action I took was to crop! Cropping is the secret weapon of the photo editor. It can completely transform a pleasant picture into an irresistibly interesting one! The magic of “zooming in” on the subject is that the edges of the photo now become activated and play a huge role. The main subject becomes more important, while background details become insignificant. In this case, your face, your personality, your intention is what’s important. What we’re after is capturing your elusive essence. No portrait says everything about you, but an appropriately cropped (and lit) image will say more about you than most casual snapshots.

Finally, let me add that you don’t have to stop there. In my case, I added my logo in the corner. Not all logos are conducive to this kind of placement, but if you sell fish, maybe a few bubbles, or a tiny corner fish would make your photo complete. On your computer you might experiment with making you image black-and-white. Or sepia-toned. Or over-exposed. Or colorized. The point is, marketing relies on differentiation, which leads to recognition, which enables preference, and if you’re doing other things right, hopefully trust follows. Before you know it, you’re fostering meaningful relationships… and that’s what commerce in this new age is all about.

Are you a non-profit, not-for-profit, charity, community organization or cause that desires more exposure, new outreach ideas and more networking opportunities? You may or may not be aware of so-called social media, where you have the opportunity to make your voice heard, reach new people, and learn from a larger community.

One such social media outlet, growing by huge numbers of new participants each day, is Twitter, the “microblogging” platform. Forgive me if you’re already an active and savvy user, but the truth is that many worthwhile organizations are not using it. To get started, there is nothing to download – just sign up with a catchy name, a brief profile, a password and join the conversation and meet new people.

The purpose of this post is not to delve into the details and benefits of Twitter. There are countless articles and blog posts about the benefits of Twitter, just as there are many online and offline applications that enhance your Twitter experience.

This post is to offer “visual branding” help to a deserving, Twitter-using organization. Once you create your Twitter account, you’re given a Twitter page where you’ll read and send messages from. That page comes with standard decorated background. But that background may be changed, customized and even replaced with an image. And the replacement image should not only be attractive, it should properly reflect your organization and contain key information. Here are some examples.

By using a savvy designer for your background, your Twitter page will visually compliment your other online outreach efforts and reflect your organization’s brand. Visitors to your page will see your brief profile in the upper right as well as whatever info you want to appear in the upper left [as part of the background image].

Now let’s cut to the chase.

I’m offering to create such a background, at no charge, for an organization that would appreciate the donation. Assuming more than one request will come in, I’ll need to choose who I can help, hence I will need a “pitch” from you describing your organization’s work, its goals and its plans.

To request this donation, leave a comment here with any relevant links (including your Twitter contact info – mine is http://twitter.com/bccreative) so I may understand you mission. My choice will be subjective, certainly. By the middle of January, I will have chosen which organization(s) I’d like to help and will contact you with questions and a time line.

Update / February 16, 2009:
I’m happy to announce that – tada! – Jamie Vijayaraghavan’s organization, Saving Sheltered Pets, now has a new Twitter background. Jamie is passionate about animals (read more here ) so I was happy to help her. Jamie’s also a designer, but luckily for me, she was happy to let me mess with her hard-earned reputation and brand equity. Thanks for trusting me Jamie!

I’ve digressed. Speaking as a team, Jennifer and I would rather make merry at holiday time; give and attend parties, hang out and play board games while consuming fatty foods and tasty wines, and generally enjoy this allegedly family/loved ones-focused time of year. But we’ve managed to always focus on the stress our expectations have created.

This year was different. After deciding we were giving our boys one substantial gift each (a keyboard for one, and car money for the older one), and already having given the boys inexpensive ideas for parental gifts, Jennifer was determined to keep Christmas fun for everyone – on the cheap and with a minimum of running around. Sitting down with our two teenage boys, we powowed on a stocking-stuffers scavenger hunt type strategy. She envisioned six categories of gifts: Audio-related; Visual; Fun/Funny; Edible, Wearable and Nostalgic. Because we have a Five Below store nearby (like a dollar store, but items can cost upwards of five dollars), a $30.00 per head stocking stuffer budget meant we’d each buy a minimum of six, $5 gifts or several more at lesser prices.

Twenty four little pieces of paper later, my name was on six of them, paired with each category (Bruce/Audio; Bruce/Visual, etc.) just as it was for the other 3 “players.” Drawing from a tacky red fedora, we each drew six slips at random and headed for Five Below.

Just days before Christmas, with the store pretty crazy, and the checkout line snaking through the store, we each furtively scoured the crap stuff in bins and on shelves, looking for something to fit the categories, while hiding our chosen items from relatives crisscrossing the store. Part of the genius of my wife’s idea was that two or three of us would ocassionally consult with each other about ideas. Is this appropriate? (“Who cares?”) Does it fit this category? (“Again, who cares?”) Though we were each on our mission, it was fun to bump into each other and talk or to zig, zag and avoid each other.

I won’t bore you (too late?) with what I bought that day or recieved on Christmas morning. What I take away from it all was a fun morning, with good natured teasing and marveling at how categories were fulfilled. Most likely the gifts will be forgotten, lost, broken or just chucked with age, but the low-stress, low-cost, high-return model will certainly be remembered.
As a print designer, I’m a self-described visual creative. But I don’t own the creative title around my house. What I’ve described above is but one example of my wife’s problem-solving abilities. But that’s exactly what creativity is, don’t you think?

Only a few Posterous posts so far. The latest is What I learned from emptying my dishwasher, which I almost didn’t publicize. But thanks to a few keen Twitterers who I shared it with, it grew a couple of legs and showed up on at least one site. Anyway, perhaps it’s just a more informal version of this blog. Perhaps it’s just a “fat Twitter post.” It feels a little different, and that’s good enough. For now anyway.

“Don’t “Bury The Lead”

Don’t bury the key information of a story somewhere in the body of the article — put it first. Newspaper reporters learn quickly not to ‘bury the lead’ and it’s at least equally important for bloggers.” – bloggingforbusinessbook.com

[Caution: buried lead ahead...]

Saturday, 7:55 am.

Ratchet down the baseball cap below the eye line. Take a mildly cleansing breath and breach the thin veneer separating you from the morning sun’s gentle wash. Casually glance in either direction and receive reassuring optical-neural confirmation. The maiden steps forward seem mildly wobbled…or is that just the overstretched sweatpants in centrifugal motion? With hands jammed deeply in pockets, gaze locked onto the twinkling wisps of sand that separate the warming asphalt from the lazy sea grass, your egress appears successful. Considering your coffee-deprived state, the bipedaling is remarkably smooth. As the seaside bungalow recedes in your virtual rear view, your morning fix, housed in a bay side convenience store, reassuringly approaches.

“But wait…cash. Did I forget the godda… ooh, good…a loose twenty! Oops, dropped a quarter…”

Your temples throb slightly as you hunch, then squat and ultimately corner and capture the shiny fugitive. You’re [literally] a big time movie star, but you still aren’t going to let someone else happen upon your coin collection. You continue on, barely noticing a car’s sudden acceleration behind you…

A week later, repeating a similar morning ritual, you deftly take a cautious sip while mumbling your first thank-you of the day to a smirking cashier. But the scalding, inbound coffee abruptly changes direction at the site of a horrific visage — there on the cover of a celebrity rag, in full gory glory, is a spectacular full-moon butt cleavage fit only for a lonely mountain ape. A second glance delivers the blood-draining blow – that’s your lovely lunar moment, captured for all to see.

* * * * * * * * * *

Okay, I’ve just led you down a rabbit hole that ends in a place we’ll call what the hell is he talking about. What I’ve done is over exaggerate the effect of being caught with your pants down, seen in a less than ideal light, ungroomed, overly casual, without regard for appearance… you get the idea. I’m not necessarily passing judgment on those who eschew typical western [world], developed nation, middle-to-upper class urban dress codes. Nor am I suggesting that you don formal wear when getting your morning coffee… on a weekend… while on a beach vacation. And I’m most definitely not recommending you monitor celebrity tabloids. Rather, I’m positing that if you’re going to play the game, any game, do so properly. And by properly, I mean with intent and observance of the game’s rules and pitfalls.

In our fame-laden protagonist’s case above, the omnipresence of the paparazzi is an occupational hazard. Now, should these ersatz photojournalists be lurking, stalking, waiting for your [fill in your color here] ass to emerge from its terry-lined cozy? Perhaps not. Is our victim entitled to some privacy and respite from his established image, his carefully cultivated reputation…his brand? I’d say yes… but if I were the star’s hired handler, I’d maybe have suggested that a pair of tighty whiteys (or boxers, but no thongs…please!) would have been a small style/comfort sacrifice to minimize this sort of exposure, and to protect the breadwinner.

Now you may care nary a whit for the plight of actors, but you’re probably right to assume that hey, these things just…happen, and that they can’t be helped. True, many celebs’ – mostly female it seems – fleshy misproportions are caught on film, ready to evoke a good cringe from idlers in grocery checkout lines. But there’s a good many entertainers who’ve managed to steer clear of such calamity, too. And that’s probably by design (and the luck of being a little less popular) sometimes known as good sense – avoidance of trendy restaurants and nightclubs, maybe the occasional bodyguard or body double. In some cases, an attentive parent can make all the difference. The point is, there’s no free passes or guarantees of immunity in life, and the only thing really standing between your honor and your disgrace is preparedness.

This roundabout rant of mine was brought on by a recent audio/video industry newsletter article. A former employer of mine, (Company A) threatened legal action against another venerable industry player (Company B). A letter prepared by and sent from Company A’s Corporate Intellectual Property Counsel (see Exhibit A) details the offenses.

The details are (yawn) unimportant. But interestingly, Company B handled the complaint with aplomb, calmly addressing point-by point the letter’s key grievances publicly, on the Company B web site (a public relations coup worthy of reportage). At the end of the address, the Company B president provided a PDF scan of Company A’s letter (see Exhibit A, above).

OMG! There, onscreen was letterhead I designed for Company A about 12 years ago, as the backdrop for the legal document in question! For starters, the design itself had been altered over the years. Now, another designer may have been charmed by seeing an old flame on the big ol’ Interweb, but not I! Secondly, the abuse that this letter took at the hands of a word-processing, in-house lawyer was close to what our Oscar-aspiring thespian’s (see beginning of this saga/post) mother must have felt seeing her baby defiled by the media. I’m not saying that my letterhead was beautiful, but it was lovingly conceived once upon a time. This “treatment” however was sloppy – narrow margins that ignore the obvious alignment cues, huge paragraph indents used in conjunction with extra paragraph spacing, bullets a gaping 2 or 3 ems from the text… Times New Roman!! Aaarghh!

I wonder… if Company A knew that one of its own letters was going to be on display for the entire industry (and industry media) to scrutinize, would the organization have treated it more seriously? Could a little preparedness in the form of simple stationery usage guidelines have prevented one team member from embarrassing them all? I mean come on, Company A… you’re a big time player, right? Play the game! You wouldn’t meet the public with your pants falling off or with cream cheese on your tie, would you? Surely your marketing and PR managers — your trusted handlers — should have better shielded you from such a tarnishing of your visual brand, your image and your reputation.

You as a businessperson may speculate that only a designer cares about such [insignificant] details. Maybe you’re right. If that’s true, what else are you not caring about? What other customer, industry and media touch points are you simply leaving to chance? I tell business people that customers or prospects aren’t usually conscious of good design, but they will take notice of poor design or appearance, and vote with their feet. They’ll abandon you in the middle of your pitch. And they most likely won’t give you a second chance, at least not one that’s cost-effective for you.

So choose to work closely with a designer, one whose passion is to care about such things. Let him/her audit your visual branding efforts. Learn about the proper treatment of your visual brand. You may yet close some truly serious loopholes before your public looks through them or your competitors exploit them.

All that said, LinkedIn Answers is a great, free benefit of LinkedIn membership! I’ve posted two questions recently; one of them receiving more than 25 replies; another resulting in an offer to chat with a business development pro on Skype next week for 10 minutes (plus all that he’d already wrote in his first reply to my answer).

I wrote sincere thank-yous to those respondents whose answers I really did find useful, often adding a good bit of additional opinion or clarification. I got further replies from some via email. It was a great community experience, and it has me thinking of my next business-related questions, and how I can then post some of the replies on my blog like Julius did.

If you haven’t tried it yet, and if you’re a [free] member like me, give it a shot. I’m getting better at crafting questions that aren’t overly self-promotional and might actually have value to others, again, contributing to the community and the grand idea of networking.

Months ago, I posted this about an animated infographic video I’d come across. That was nearly one hundred percent infographic! While still an excellent specimen in its own right, these 3 web films from Superfad seem to breathe life into data and successfully layer data onto a story. The net result is a helpful, welcome, humanistic and accessible message that’s perfectly stylized and visually branded for Sprint.

See all three here (this is the link I got when searching by client for “Sprint;” you can always conduct the same easy search if this link fails).

This series of three web films are excellent examples of the power of design and animation (and writing and production and the full boat of disciplines that go into such deceptively simple – aka elegant – work). The narration is perfect – talking to you and not at you – and the elements of humor are appropriate and just enough to make you smile.

I’m trying hard not to be subjective here – to me, this is great storytelling (please write and tell me if you found them boring!). The plot is steadily illuminated by the art, which is 3D, but humbly so. The art is also “soft edged,” adding to its non-threatening and helpful, neighborly tone. While the art is attractive and worthy of study, the medium does not interfere with the message. Forgive me for saying so, but I’m reminded of children’s books or graphic novel, in that the story and the visuals complement each other rather effortlessly. But with the addition of dynamic illustrated data, especially in the example of the hurricane Katrina film, this is a unique and successful breed of storytelling.