All the news we could fit in print.
The last time a state government asked an illustrator to help announce a social program, the strategy probably involved a pamphlet and a post office.
Continue reading →The advertising industry has long prided itself on its ability to measure things — reach, frequency, brand lift, purchase intent — with the kind of precision that used to be reserved for actuaries and people who count cards in Las Vegas.
There was a time when the phrase "text me" meant something personal — a friend, a spouse, perhaps a teenager asking for money.
There is a certain kind of marketing asset that gets invited to every party all year long, only to discover that the Christmas party has a different guest list entirely.
The phrase "reunion tour" typically conjures images of aging rock bands, but in advertising, it more often means a pair of comedians from a beloved television era climbing into a sport utility vehicle and pretending to be surprised by the legroom.
The residents of Maine have grown accustomed to certain things: lobster, fog, and the quiet satisfaction of living in a state most Americans cannot locate on a map.
The technology industry has long insisted that its competitors are fundamentally different from one another, each occupying a unique position in the digital firmament.
The line between personal assistant and advertising vehicle has always been a thin one, but Amazon has now erased it entirely — or at least reduced it to the width of a text message.
The scalloped edge, it seems, has found a permanent seat at advertising's most expensive table.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that an advertising agency in possession of a good client must be in want of a percentage.