The Faces of Occupy: Elijah

 Elijah.
Click to enlarge
©2012 Paul Davey

I met Elijah a couple of weeks back when I started shooting images at the Occupy LSX camp at St Paul’s Cathedral. I was photographing Indigo, his girlfriend as she sat in the entrance of their tent. Elijah was inside, in the shadows, embellishing some of Indigo’s answers to my questions, as I took shot after shot of her. He was like a colour commentator, allowing Indigo to do most of the talking, to tell their version of the truth. Eventually, he emerged into the daylight and we chatted together for a while. I was more interested in getting pictures than what we spoke about. I photographed them together and separately, but had no real idea of exactly what I was going to do with the images.

  Elijah and Indigo.
Click to enlarge
©2012 Paul Davey

I visited the camp several more times and on occasion spotted Elijah or Indigo in the distance, but I was busy with other photographs and didn’t approach them. Clearly they were long-term residents in the camp.

Finally having decided to do a series, The Faces of Occupy, I came back to the camp with the intention to photograph and interview my subjects. I arrived at the camp to find residents dismantling the kitchen and parts of the “Tech Tent” and loading their precious, mismatched, disparate components that most people would classify as junk, into a van.

The day before, February 22^nd, the camp had lost its High Court appeal against eviction and were packing up some of their more valuable items and moving them offsite.

I wandered around the camp snapping off the occasional image – there are rich photographic pickings to be had.  I came across Elijah and Indigo sitting beside the Tea Tent in camping chairs.  They remembered me – and greeted me warmly – as warmly as eighteen year-olds greet any forty-something from the same generation as their parents.

Elijah obliged and agreed to my five-minute interview. 

First name: Elijah.

Age: 18

How long have you been in the camp?

Since day one.

What were you doing before you joined the Occupy camp?

I was travelling in Germany and joined the Occupy Berlin camp. Before that, I was studying in Australia.

Do you have a specialist role in the camp?

I help facilitate camp-related meetings.

What compelled you to become an Occupier?

The tyranny of the rich over the working class, and the impoverishment of the third world by the powerful.

How will you as an individual make a difference?

Through honesty. Through speaking my mind, as a spokesperson for the oppressed and sharing my personal views.

Who is your Enemy Number One?

The greedy upper class

Why?

They hoard wealth whilst their workers are impoverished.

Who do you admire?

Jeff Buckley

Why?

Too many cat stealing all the bread

What is the best part of being in Occupy?

It’s the all-encompassing work experience. You meet anyone and everyone. I’ve learnt a lot of lessons – we all have – and there are mistakes we’ve made that won’t be repeated.

What is the worst part of being in Occupy?

Fighting within the community.

Is Occupy making a noticeable difference?

Yes.

How so?

It has sparked hundreds of conversations. Issues are being discussed.

Anything Else?

People need to communicate more.  We need more honest conversations. We lack the willingness to communicate.

Elijah, like any good young revolutionary, plays guitar. His song was obscene but funny, about being in love with a crack whore.

Click to enlarge
©2012 Paul Davey

Copyright © 2009 Paul R Davey. All photographs, text and artworks in this portfolio are copyrighted and owned by the artist, Paul R Davey unless otherwise stated. Any reproduction, modification, publication, transmission, transfer, or exploitation of any of the content, for personal or commercial use, whether in whole or in part, without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.

More faces from Occupy London

Bombadil.
Photographed at Occupy London's Finnsbury Square camp. Click to enlarge.
© 2012 Paul Davey Creative

I have been making progress as a portrait photographer. Or should I say, a reportage-style portrait photographer. In my previous post, I told you how I "had to overcome a secret fear that I have: photographing people". Perhaps I should have been clearer. I have made quite a large proportion of my income from photographing people - particularly people at work - in what I call "Industrial Portraiture".  I have no fear of photographing them, because I know that they have been prewarned of my arrival. I also think I am good at getting them to relax and to do exactly as I ask, posing them and carefully building the shot. I get some pleasing results.

With street shooting, like the work I have been doing at Occupy, I take people by surprise. They are not really expecting me and are certainly not expecting me to stop them and ask them to allow me to make the images. It is that initial encounter where I am uncomfortable, but I'm getting used to it now and will soon have enough experience of working amongst people who sort of know they might get photographed as part of a news event, to taking things a step further and working with people who will be taken completely by surprise.

Around the Fire.
Left to right: Joseph, Leo, Paul
Photographed at Occupy London's Finsbury Square camp. Click to enlarge.
© 2012 Paul Davey Creative

So: Occupy London Finnsbury Square.
I arrived at the camp just after lunchtime on a freezing afternoon.  The first person I encountered was Joseph, who was building his shelater out of scrap wood. I asked him if I could take some photographs and he was kind enough to say, sure.  He was a bit shy, but I clicked a few of him - fairly wide shots - sawing a piece of board. It always takes a few shots to get my mojo up and running, so I decided I'd come back to Joseph later and walked around the perimiter of the camp taking (mostly bad) general shots of the tents and shelters.

The camp has a lot of tents but there weren't a lot of people in evidence, save for a group of three around a fire in a metal bucket. I asked their permission to take some pics and Leo, an Irishman with a gift for swearing that only an Celt can have, was most welcoming. "Take all the fecking pictures you want. Who are you working for?" I explained I was working for myself and was still a bit in the dark as to what I would eventually do with the Occupy images.

Leo

Photographed at Occupy London's Finnsbury Square camp. Click to enlarge.
© 2012 Paul Davey Creative

With Leo were Bombadil, a (retired, I think?) English teacher and and other bloke, a jobless Engineer, also called Paul. "Croist! All the feckin' Pauls in this feckin place! This feckin' camp should be Called St Paul's! Feckin' hundreds of you c**ts!" Leo helpfully pointed out.

Paul

Photographed at Occupy London's Finnsbury Square camp. Click to enlarge.
© 2012 Paul Davey Creative

I got down to shooting and as the boys relaxed, started listening to their banter and joining in. Topics were wide ranging, from the trivial to the intellectual. Bombadill was talking about sonnets, in particular Shakespear's genius with them and Leo was talking about feckin' Saabs which he feckin' loves. Paul recounted an anecdote that had something to do with helium-filled blow-up sheep attached to a scaffold, attached to the church in his village in Linconshire.

What they weren't talking about was any sort of activism. I got the impression that they're just hanging out, ready to take part in any protests (for whatever cause) should they arise in the future. They were camping. With their mates.  I don't doubt for a minute that they all have deeply held convictions, but once again, Occupy's lack of any concrete core message seems to have taken away any chance of them really doing something. When I pointed this out to Leo, he said something about "at last someone who's fecking honest enough to say what they think".

 Ash
Photographed at Occupy London's Finnsbury Square camp. Click to enlarge.
© 2012 Paul Davey Creative

Men came and went, sharing the warmth of the fire, taking turns at splitting scrap timber with a hatchet for the fire, joking and telling me about various scrapes with the law, the bailiffs etc. I was having a good time, constantly shooting, listening, trying to keep track of my notes (I failed in the end) and being introduced to new feckin' people. There was Raffy, a skinny young bloke with the world's most unruly hair, apparently the camp's accommodation bloke. Ash, an artist whose shelter was brightly painted, festooned with found objects and decorated with stenciled art. He showed me inside his place - his "dreamspace" where he had further atworks and carefully collected items. It was pin neat. There was another feckin' Paul whose role I wasn't sure of - he's a very pleasant Scotsman.

Raffy

Photographed at Occupy London's Finnsbury Square camp. Click to enlarge.
© 2012 Paul Davey Creative

Every now and then Leo would disappear inside his shelter to check on his feckin' wife. Loud violent shouting, thudding and crashing would ensue from within as he "disciplined" his "wife" - a carboard cut-out of (I think) Cheryl Cole. "Where's me feckin' tea, ya lazy fecker?" Clearly the camp clown, but equally, no one's fool. These protestors are not the mindless ne'er-do-wells many would like to imagine them to be.

I shot until my camera shutter button started showing signs of its age again, refusing to allow me to autofucus or check exposures, so, with the light befginning to fade, stinking of woodsmoke and frozen to the bone, I headed back to Old Street tube station, Lightroom bound.

Another Feckin' Paul

Photographed at Occupy London's Finnsbury Square camp. Click to enlarge.
© 2012 Paul Davey Creative

Say what you like about Occupy as a movement. But once again, I found the individuals to be fascinating, kind, obliging and excellent, willing photographic subjects.

Copyright © 2009 Paul R Davey. All photographs, text and artworks in this portfolio are copyrighted and owned by the artist, Paul R Davey unless otherwise stated. Any reproduction, modification, publication, transmission, transfer, or exploitation of any of the content, for personal or commercial use, whether in whole or in part, without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.

The Faces of Occupy

Click images to enlarge.

Having trudged countless miles around London photographing streetscapes, back alleys, construction sites, dereliction, the Thames, bridges and beloved landmarks, my eye has grown jaded. I have stopped seeing; little seems worthy of a shot. Yes, in this vast city of 7 million people, with its streets and housing estates, its grit, grime and grandeur I, astonishingly, had become creatively blind.

One of the speakers at Saturday's event. He spoke about Julian Assange, about getting him freed, about sinister machinations. Real or imagined?

Photograph © Copyright Paul Davey 2012

Something had to be done.  I also had to overcome a secret fear that I have: photographing people. In the past, I have had confrontations with not-so-unwitting subjects catching me trying to create candid images and to be honest, I have always felt uncomfortable with "taking" photographs as opposed to "making" photographs. I had a long talk with myself and decided that to grab the bull by the horns was the best move. I was going to go and do some street photography of people. Not only was I going to do it, I was going to master it.  It turns out that I am a long way from the mastering objective, but I have taken the first steps.

A couple of weeks back, I headed into Camden, got busted by an old Italian guy in the market when I took a quick snapshot of him and was very sternly asked to delete the image. I did so. I felt bad. I should have asked first and explained what I wanted to do. He would, most likely, have cooperated.  I felt like a thief. Just a few moments later, in another part of the market, I met King. King, like me, is a Zimbabwean. We struck up a conversation and I asked him to let me take some photographs, explained what I wanted and he was only too happy - and I got some great images. Images that honour what he does, and, I hope, honour what I do too.

King. He creates mobiles  from drinks cans and jewellery from cutlery.

Photograph © Copyright Paul Davey 2012

Fast forward to this weekend just gone and penniless (so no fuel to go on my usual countryside walk/landscape shoots) I headed into town. Arriving at Euston with no real plan I wandered through Bloomsbury and eventually found myself in The City. Paternoster Square to be more precise. I noticed it was clogged with barriers and a heavy security presence; Occupy had tried to set up camp there in October. I though I'd go and have a look at the camp surrounding the steps of St Paul's Cathedral, and get some photographs - of people.  Which is what I did - all of them candid, all of them of people who, as media-hungry protesters, were quite happy to be photographed. It was a rich feeding ground and I got several reasonable candid reportage-style shots.  I headed home cold, but satisfied.

 Smoke break. 

Photograph © Copyright Paul Davey 2012

When I got home, I downloaded the images in Lightroom and was after looking at them all, a little less satisfied. It was clear that I had rushed some of the shots I initially thought were good and they were flawed in some way - not sharp, not properly exposed (I always under-expose deliberately by a stop to preserve highlight details - but these were all over the show) and some were poorly composed - I would have to crop them - something I don't like to do because it lowers the resolution of the already low (6.2 Mpx) images. Sigh. They'll be fine for online and small prints.

 Sheila. She was recording the St Paul's bells with a dictaphone and writing notes.

Photograph © Copyright Paul Davey 2012

I published a few of the images on Facebook and was flattered by a few of the comments I received. But I knew I could do better. I also knew that I could have been more honest about the images.  I had photographed them with my current opinion of left wing activists, and had commented about them with the same mindset. I still felt like a thief. And like a bombasitic, opinionated, narrow-minded right wing fascist. Indeed, someone for who I have a lot of respect for even told me I was a fascist - albeit a loveable one.

 Mark. A homeless man with a wild range of conflicting opinions.

Photograph © Copyright Paul Davey 2012 

I had to do better. I knew I could do better and I knew I could be fairer. I would go back. I would engage directly with individuals in the camp, explaining what I wanted to do, asking them their names, asking why they were there, asking, asking, asking. And listening. I took my notebook. I took down names and frame numbers. I had conversations and best of all, I began to understand. And when I got home, I was less disappointed than the previous evening. I had a small number of what I consider to be good, honest portraits of strangers I had gotten to know a little.

 Aaron

Photograph © Copyright Paul Davey 2012

My throw-away rate was still far too high.  Shooting landscapes is a far more considered, methodical task than shooting portraits. You can take your time with landscapes. With portraits, shot during a conversation, things happen a lot quicker. The subject flits in and out of focus as they move and gesticulate - far too fast for my ancient lenses to cope with. Add to this the low light levels thanks to heavy cloud, a flashgun that takes its own sweet time recharging, no image stabilisisng and my still-to-be-cured mixture of fear, timidity and guilt and the overiding ingredient needed for the images was luck.  Fortunately, I did, to some extent, get lucky.

 Indigo.

Photograph © Copyright Paul Davey 2012

I published a few images on Facebook and once again, got some very kind, positive comments. I also felt a lot more credible with hese images. They were not stolen. I can vouch for them. They have a back story. The people (mostly) have names. They are more intimate. They are kind.

 Indigo and Elijah. Indigo is eighteen, first came to the camp with her parents who wanted her to see how the other half live. She stayed. She told me she does go home for baths as home is just ten minutes away. Elijah is an Aussie, arrived in London after spending time at Occupy Berlin.

Photograph © Copyright Paul Davey 2012

I also came away with much more of my own opinion of the whole Occupy movement. Was I impressed by them? Not very. Did I gain new respect? For some individuals, yes, for others, no. Occupy is a loose assembly of disparate agendas. Many of them are loopy, many of them want to wipe out one system and replace it with another, founded on ideals that ignore such immovables as human nature. A small corner of the camp had the "Tent City University" where workshops and talks were being held; active activism. But the rest of the camp was largely peopled by people who were just "there". Cohesion seems not to exist at anything more than a superficial level and there are clealy several factions within the camp whose regard for the current leadership is low. There is an undercurrent of jealousy. There is a plethora of mixed messsages, of diluted and uncompromising positions, of militant and pacifist ideals.

 Mada. A lovely bloke. A full time activist who has lived in the camp from day one.

Photograph © Copyright Paul Davey 2012

But there is also hope. Some small miracles. Homeless people feel for he first time in a long time, that they belong. They have a shred of identity, a little scrap of dignity, of feeling that they are part of something good, even if some of them may have misinterpreted the mixed messages at the core of Occupy. I can live with that and I respect that. There is Joey, a long haired, bearded, bespectacled homeless character who has appointed himself the camp's bin man. He has a position, a responsibility.

The camp itself is filthy. Cooking smells mix with powerful body odour and the stench of portaloos. The ground is stained with spillages of indeterminate origin (the smell of urine pervades) and there are cigarette ends, the odd condom package, styrofoam food punnets, water bottles and Starbucks coffee cups. There are banners and posters with various messages, requests and dubious "facts" relating to the haves and have-nots. Bewildering.

Photograph © Copyright Paul Davey 2012

I am gald I visted the camp. I am glad I listened. I am no closer to a grounded opinion of my own, other than to say, they are a mess. A blight, that on the one hand, demands attention on the landscape of the current system, and on the other is self harming, thanks to the idealogical free-for-all that accepts almost any agenda that goes against the "system". Whatever that is.

Copyright © 2009 Paul R Davey. All photographs, text and artworks in this portfolio are copyrighted and owned by the artist, Paul R Davey unless otherwise stated. Any reproduction, modification, publication, transmission, transfer, or exploitation of any of the content, for personal or commercial use, whether in whole or in part, without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.

Good, Cheap, Quick

Small businesses and start-ups taking their enterprise to market usually have two things in limited supply: money and time. They need to get selling fast, but they also need to establish their credibility in the market place. They need good, relevant, creative marketing collateral quickly at the lowest possible cost.

That's all very good, but the reality is, you can have good and cheap but you can't have quick. You can have quick and good but you can't have cheap. Of course this observation is relative to the type of service you engage. If you use a freelance such as me, you'll pay a lot less than if you were using a mid-sized agency with its additional overheads.  They'll quite possibly take you to lunch. But with a freelance, you will miss out on the added services and sometimes unnecessary trimmings (that "free" lunch?) that a mid-sized agency can provide. They have not only designers, but marketing experts. People who will help you with strategy, a team of copywriters and designers who will spend time brainstorming your brief. Often they will have two or more teams working on different approaches to your brief. But the time mounts up... and to some extent (remember, it's relative), cheap and quick go out the window.

At the other end of the scale, you can log onto whichever crowdsourcing site takes your fancy and get hundreds of pitches from creative freelances around the world. You could quite possibly end up with good, cheap and quick. Or not. I have previously written about crowdsourcing and have also written about what really goes into a professional design process. Professional design with due process takes time. Time is money. Ignore the due process and you could end up with a lovely (or not) looking piece of design that does nothing for your business.

Good: How to get it.
The ingredients for a good job are many, but the basics are this:

1. Talent. Much like owning a pen does not make you Shakespeare, owning a computer and all the necessary software does NOT give someone talent. You need to be able to see the genuine creative talent shining through.
2. Due process. I can if I wish, knock out an acceptable brochure or flier within an hour or two; buy a couple of stock photos for a few quid, bang out some text, add a drop shadow or two and Bob's your uncle. But I don't. I have a process that ensures what I create does the job it is supposed to. Which costs money. I spend time working on a strategy, then a concept. I spend time crafting the copy. And before I even do that, I endeavour to properly understand your business and your market, because how on earth am I going to effectively communicate otherwise?

Cheap: How to get it
You want to save money, not throw it away:

1. Prepare a decent, detailed brief. If you don't know how to do this, a good freelance will help you prepare one with all the salient points and objectives clearly expressed. Understand what you are buying: the freelance's time, so don't waste it. Have your ducks in a row.
2. Be realisitc. You will not get the same level of service from a freelance as you will from an agency. You will not have an account manager, you will not have a team beavering away in the studio for you. Instead, you will have one hungry, experienced individual who will be in direct contact with you. Don't expect long boozy lunches, though!
3. Pay on time. If you pay late, your next job will be likely to cost more or you'll maybe have to find another freelance, which is time consuming and wasteful of the legacy of knowledge regarding your business your designer will have built up.

Quick: How to get it
You want it fast, so smooth the way

1. Adhere to the above points
2. Become a favourite client. Freelances have to sometimes juggle jobs. Make sure that the guy doing your work wants to make your job a priority.

Copyright © 2009 Paul R Davey. All photographs, text and artworks in this portfolio are copyrighted and owned by the artist, Paul R Davey unless otherwise stated. Any reproduction, modification, publication, transmission, transfer, or exploitation of any of the content, for personal or commercial use, whether in whole or in part, without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.

The Process and Gestation of a Logo Design

"I need a logo for my sportswear company. It must be really classy and like Nike and adidas but not exactly the same lol. I can pay between £40 - 60. I need a top job done and if your good enough you can do my website :-)" [sic, sic, sic, sicety-sic]

Okaaaaaaaay...

The above is a fairly typical example of a new business putting the word out that they want a logo designed for their brand which will take on the world. One look at the budget and I will do one of two things: Message the client and with withering sarcasm tell him his budget is ridiculous; or, ignore the ad completely because there is no way I will attempt to compete against youngsters who live at home with mum and dad, or far eastern designers who can make a good living by undercutting us designers here in the UK.  I usually ignore these sort of ads - there's no point in engaging with someone who is that ignorant or unrealistic.

But hold on. "Ignorant". Surely that is not the guy's fault. He maybe just doesn't know what goes into a logo design and with a better understanding he will adjust his budget accordingly. I'm an optimist, so perhaps I should educate him. Education separates the once ignorant, now educated, from the terminally pig-ignorant.

Here is my reply to the above client. Lets hope he reads it and isn't dazzled by the rock-bottom prices of Mario DeCunha in the Phillipines:

Dear Andy (for that is his name)
I am very interested in quoting for the design of your sportswear brand identity, but I fear my price will be a fair distance beyond your £40-60 budget.  There is a good reason for this as the actual design process takes many hours of hard work and will use a lot of my hard-won experience to achieve a professional, well conceived design that will win the respect of your market.

Here is my process. Times include local travel time to and from meetings

1. Client interview. 2 Hours. This is a meeting where we can both get to know each other and more importantly, we can discuss exactly what you wish to achieve with your brand. I ask a lot of questions such as:

• What sportswear do you make? Shoes? Clothes? Football strips? Golf wear?
• What is your target market? Men? Women? Serious athletes? Casual exercisers? etc.
• Are you intending to create a premium brand or something for the lower end of the market - if your brand were a car, what would it be? A Rolls Royce? A ferrari? A BMW 3 series? A Nissan Micra?
• Are your designs original or are you simply overprinting ready made garments?
• Where do you see your brand in one/two/five/ten years?
• How do you plan to get your brand into the shops?
• Will you be selling online?
• Which brands do you admire - and why?
• Which brands do you not admire - and why?
• What colours do you want to use?
• Have you established your brand name yet?
• Have you registered your domain names?
• Have you checked to see whether there are similar brand names already in the market?
• Is there a unique selling proposition?
• Are you confident that you are not breaching anyone's copyright or registered trade mark?
• Is your business in a position to trade - are you properly capitalised?
• Can you abide by my payment terms?

In this interview, I also expect a grilling from you, Andy. You need to know that I'm a professional and not a chancer - after all, I'm about to send your original budget into the scuppers.

2. Quote and Establish the brief. 1 hour. Based on the information and notes made in the interview, I write up a brief and prepare a quote.  I submit this to the client and if you're happy that we're both (forgive me) on the same page you sign it off and pay the deposit.

3. Due Diligence. 3 hours. Before I start designing a logo, I look at what's around in the market. I look at the websites, ads and whatever else I can find belonging to competitors and brands to which your business aspires. I do my own checks on domain names to see what's close to yours and to build a list of suggestions for alternatives.  I copy logos of competing brands and put them on a single sheet, so I can get a true picture of what I'm up against.

4. Sketch and doodle. 3 hours. Before I start working on my computer, I get my pen and a sketch pad and start playing about with ideas for the typography and the accompanying symbol. Several pages later, I might have three to five different ideas that I can then start drafting up on the computer.

5. Create 3-5 options. 4 hours. Based on my sketches and doodles, I create three to five different designs, often (but not always) only in black and white. Colours come later, because the first thing to get right is the basic typography and its relationship to the symbol, if any.

Five initial designs  - well, four and a half, actually, as one was derived directly from another.

  6. Present the options. 2 hours. This is best done in a meeting so that I can properly discuss each option and get the required amount of feedback from you, Andy.

7. Refine the selected option (colours). 3 hours. Assuming you have selected one of the five options (if not, we go back to stage 4) I then refine the design.  The first thing to do is look at colours, bearing in mind the information picked up in the initial meeting. This is an incredibly important stage as the  brand colours will need to work effectively in many different situations - with the logo on a photograph, with the logo on a dark background, on a light background, on the web, in print, cut out of vinyl, embroidered on garments etc. etc. I usually end up creating another two or three colourway options for you to choose from, showing them in situ on ads, garments etc.

Yet more options. The client had established which basic design he liked, and just wanted to see variants of the design.
As most of these were simple colour changes, it took about 2 hours.

8. Final refining. 2 hours. With the colours sorted, it is now time for final micro detailing. I blow up the design to fit on an A3 page and get stuck in to getting the typography perfect, kerning the individual glyphs, altering the shape of certain elements and making sure that the shape of the symbol is perfect.

9. Presentation for sign-off. 2 hours. I take my finished design, beautifully printed on photographic paper and mounted on board for your approval and sign-off. Upon sign-off, I present my invoice for the balance owing.

A final three variants. The design took a lot of back and forth between me and the client as we homed in on what he wanted.

10. Creation of master files and brand guidelines sheet. 4 hours. Upon receipt of the final balance payment I create a series of master files in various formats, as well as a brand guidelines sheet to show correct use of the design in various applications, for you to pass on to other suppliers.

So there you have it. At least 24 hours of work is required if you want a professionally designed logo that has been properly briefed, researched, conceived and designed to help your brand compete in your market.

The final design. Note that even at the last stage there was a change when the client decided to reposition as a nursery rather than a daycare centre. These things happen, but add to the cost.

Do you need to go to all this fuss?

That is a question which only you can answer, but in my experience, the most successful brands are those that are properly conceived in the beginning.  If you are serious about your business, have excellent products or services to offer a very fickle market, then don't you want to get things done absolutely right? A brand identity is not an expense. It is an investment in your business that helps to define you, that helps set you apart, that helps make you appealing to your market.

I hope this gives you a clear understanding of my process, Andy, and shows you how it would be impossible for me to do anything of substance for you for the price of your original budgeted amount.

Kind regards

Paul




Copyright © 2009 Paul R Davey. All photographs, text and artworks in this portfolio are copyrighted and owned by the artist, Paul R Davey unless otherwise stated. Any reproduction, modification, publication, transmission, transfer, or exploitation of any of the content, for personal or commercial use, whether in whole or in part, without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.

Crowdsourcing: How to abuse a Freelance Designer

For many small businesses there has opened up a new and exciting opportunity for getting work done at a price that fits your budget. Crowdsourcing.

Crowdsourcing is a simple concept. You register what you want done on a website and freelances like me quote to do your work. You choose the designer who best fits your budget and he delivers your work a few days later. Brilliant.

The problem is, when you source from the crowd of designers who pitch for your work, you get to see some ridiculously low quotes - and being the small business owner that you are, you are mighty tempted to go for the unbelievably low prices on offer.

I have a word of caution: If the price seems too good to be true, it probably is.

I regularly lose work to "designers" who quote so low that it is impossible that they are working above - or in fact anywhere near the minimum wage. The client - that might be you - then forks out a pittance to the successful designer and two days later gets his logo or whatever. Well, you get what you pay for. It can be argued that a logo design for instance, is a bit of type with a symbol. Fair enough, it is. But that's a bit like saying a cake is a bit of flour with some eggs, sugar and butter. That doesn't mean it will be a good cake or a memorable cake. It might in fact mean it will be a tremendously yukky cake.

A genuine designer - such as me - is similar to a master baker; a craftsman. A genuine designer designs logos. We know our ingredients - fonts, colours, printing processes etc. We understand markets and we know about things such as brand personality, character etc. We can make our ingredients work properly so that when, after lots of agonsing over microscopic details in letter spacing, shapes and line widths as part of our careful preparation, we pull our finished design from the oven it is not only pretty to look at but appropriate to your business and your market. Most of all though, we know bad design when we see it. And there's an awful lot of it about these days as unskilled, inexperienced owners of DTP systems brand themselves "Graphic Designers" and jump on the crowdsourcing bandwagon.

Not one of the above designs was completed in under two days. Each was subject to countless sketches, doodles and tweaks before being selected as good enough to present to my clients.

Look, you could get precisely the right thing for less than a hundred quid if you're lucky, but there's also a good chance that you will have spent a hundred quid on something you hate. Or worse still, something that gives your competitors an undeserved advantage, because in the eyes of your potential customers, your brand is unappealing or sending the wrong message.

There's an old adage about cream always rising to the top. Cream costs more than milk. And really good organic cream from a good dairy costs more still. You get the picture.

As a small business and start-up specialist, I know only too well the constraints of your budget. I know that every penny counts. A brand design or flier, brochure or website has a job of work to do. Make sure it does what it is supposed to do, because there's a good chance it could be undoing what it is supposed to do, turning people away, sending them off to your competitors.

So: Abusing a freelance designer. How to do it.

1. Set a ridiculous budget. A good, professional brand identity designer will take at least a couple of days to establish a proper brief, diligently research your competitors and your market, create design options and then refine and deliver a final, signed-off design. Three or more days is likely because a good designer has processes that he will follow. Processes that ensure you get a good result. So there is no way that a good designer is going to do you a logo design for £50. Look at £300 - £500 as about the minimum you should budget.

2. Make the designer do a free pitch. Many people think it is a sensible idea to ask a shortlist of designers to submit ideas before making a decision. I agree. But pay them for it! You don't wander from restaurant to restaurant enjoying free starters before making a decision where to have your dinner, so why do this to a freelance? We are people who have to eat, feed families, pay mortgages etc. just like you.

3. Act like Mr Big. Freelances are just like you. We are small business owners. We too are conscious of how precious our time is, so be considerate of our time. If we say something isn't going to work, don't expect us to waste time to proving we are right. Accept what we say and move on. You want a new logo, not to win a pissing contest.

4. Lie to your freelance. Every single client I have is trying to grow their business. I know this and I understand it. Telling your freelance to keep his costs down "this time" on the promise of future work is something we hear day in, day out. And we don't believe it. Pay the full whack and once you've established yourself as a loyal, lucrative client, you might be in a position to negotiate a better rate.

5. Expect credit. Forget it. At least not in the beginning. You are a stranger. Would you lend money to someone you hardly know? Many freelances go bust on the back of unpaid bills. I've been there and I know many others. Pay at least 50% up front (Some of the better crowdsourcing websites hold the money in escrow) and the balance on completion of your work (I never release any usable files until the money's in my bank). No ifs, no buts.

6. Second guess your freelance. Sure, you're the client and all that, but more often than I like I have clients showing me someone else's solution to the brief I'm working on. Again, I will use the restaurant analogy: Would you carry one of Gordon Ramsay's dishes into another (possibly better) restaurant expecting the chef there to be happy?

7. Keep your freelance in the dark. You are looking for strong results, right? Well, you need to keep your designer informed and up to date with what you are doing. You should consider your designer as part of your inner circle - after all, he's the one creating your public face. Too much "need-to-know-basis" is a bad thing. If you are unhappy with your freelance, talk to him. If you are happy, tell him too - better still, say it with work. We love work and love to be loved, just like real people.

8. Be unfaithful. If your designer is doing good work for you, be loyal. Build a relationship - an alliance. Sometimes small business owners are tempted into shopping around for every new project to save a few pennies. This is a bad idea on several fronts. You will lose the continuity of design and your messages will start getting mixed when clarity is key. Your freelance will feel more like a whore and less like a partner - and will quite likely act accordingly. Quality will be inconsistent - sure you may get some genius work from elsewhere, but the lack of consitency will drive a bulldozer through your corporate image.

9. Be impatient. Freelances are one-man-bands. As such, we are not always in a position to immediately start work on your project. From time to time you may have to wait a couple of days before your work can begin. Explain the urgency of your project and if it is indeed time-critical there's a likelihood that your freelance will shuffle his schedule to accommodate you. When this is not possible, don't just run off to the next designer you can find. Give the known quantity - your current freelance - a chance to pull in some help of his own - we're all part of networks and have trusted, quality-assured buddies who can help us out when the pressure's on and you'll find that your consistency is maintained.

10. Undervalue what has been done. It's not just a logo. It's not just a brochure. It's not just a website. These are all business-critical components that help make up the engine of your brand. Sure, some components might only have taken a couple of hours to produce, but you wanted the work done, now recognise its value.

11. Forget your manners. Freelances have to be super polite to win business, and to keep the relationship sweet. We like earning the money you pay and we are always grateful for the work., but nothing is as sweet as the moment a client calls to say thank you, well done. Us creative types are just like everyone else - sensitive little sausages who will work harder for the people who we like the most.


Copyright © 2009 Paul R Davey. All photographs, text and artworks in this portfolio are copyrighted and owned by the artist, Paul R Davey unless otherwise stated. Any reproduction, modification, publication, transmission, transfer, or exploitation of any of the content, for personal or commercial use, whether in whole or in part, without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.

I want to become a Government supplier: X = 5,000,000

I have decided that I no longer care whether doing government work is boring. It is not. Nothing that makes you rich is boring - and becoming a supplier to HM Government or to Boris's London will make you very, very rich.

How rich? Well for painting a big "X" on a busy intersection you get five million quids. Yes, Five million quids.

Today saw the launch (or do I call it an opening?) of the new "Tokyo Style" intersection of Oxford and Regent Streets in London. These two very busy streets are at the epicentre of what must be Europe's busiest shopping district. The Tokyo style intersection will hold traffic going in all directions so that pedestrians can cross in all directions, including diagonally.

Judging from the aerial camera angles on tonight's London news, those people crossing diagonally all meet in the middle and dance with each other. Well, most dance. Others headbutt each other. Very curious. To help choreograph this new dance, the powers that be have paid five million quid to some people to come down with their lorries and surface the road with a special high grip substance, in the pattern of an "X" in a box.

My question is, why didn't they pay me just four million? Hell, for four million quid I would have made a much prettier design. There'd still be an "X" for that is what they would have asked for, but it would be a magnificent "X". It would have been an "X" with character, with flair. It would have been an ironic "X". It would have been slightly post modern with a twist of pre Raphaelite about it. I would have used a subtle palette of colours to help relax those who are stressed, yet also to excite the shoppers into spending money. I would have submitted a few carefully drawn options first and shown them to Boris over a long, boozy lunch, which I would have paid for. Hell, I would have done this job naked whilst smacking myself on my bottom with a rolled up copy of The Spectator if they wanted. I, for just four million quid, would give exceptional value for money. I would give my best.

Seriously though, where did five million quid go? The launch do?

I've been noticing this sort of ridiculous spending a lot lately. The Air Force decides it wants to give Flight Lieutenant Jim Jimminy McJimble a shiny new Eurofighter, so they go to the Ministry of defence who in turn go to Messers Thrust and Lift who quote a price of Some sixty eight million of her Majesty's shiniest sterling pounds. Yes, they pay sixty-eight million pounds for a single seater plane that doesn't even have room for a hostess and a drinks trolley.

At the same time as the Ministry of Defence is shelling out, actually, hosing away, £68 million per plane, British Airways decides Captain John Johnathan Johnstone is deserving of a new Airbus A320. That will cost between £40 and 50 million, depending on the layout configuration. And it carries lots of people and it has hostesses and a drinks trolley. And a kitchen - of which I approve.

It might be argued that the Eurofighter is hellish clever and pretty damn supersonic and all, and maybe it is, but I think that much of its cost lies in the fact that the government is the customer. I have a strong feeling that the makers would be able to sharpen their pencils a whole lot.

You hear it time and time again from government how this costs thousands and that costs millions if the government is paying, but if its private enterprise paying, see the magic as thousands turn into hundreds and millions into thousands.

America's not immune to this either. I read today that they are getting tired of the bicycles they provide as part of their free public transport initiative, getting stolen. The bikes cost $3,500 each. Each!!! Now, I know a thing or two about bicycles and I can tell you that a very, very good mountain bike can cost that amount, but there are very few of them about. I can also tell you that the commuter scheme's bikes are simple, uncomplicated and tough, but certainly not worth anything near even $500. It is ridiculous. Someone got rich.

Anyway, enough bitching. If you are Tony Brown or Gordon Blair or whoever is running the country, give me a ring and tell me what you want done. By the way, I have some military grade toilet seats, tested by genuine military bottoms in a simulated combat situation, that I can let you have for just £9,999 each. Military grade, I repeat.

Copyright © 2009 Paul R Davey. All photographs, text and artworks in this portfolio are copyrighted and owned by the artist, Paul R Davey unless otherwise stated. Any reproduction, modification, publication, transmission, transfer, or exploitation of any of the content, for personal or commercial use, whether in whole or in part, without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.

I Deserve a Prize

Dear Mr Nobel and Co.

Thank you so much for giving my friend Mr Obama a Peace Prize. One of the reasons I would have voted for Mr Obama, had I been allowed to vote in the American elections, is that he sure looked like a peaceful kinda guy. Anyhow, well done.

Now I'd like to apply for one of your prizes too. I'm mainly interested in a Peace Prize as I'm not very good at mathematics or science. I am quite good at writing (and spelling), so I'll let you decide on that one. My heart though, is definitely set on a Peace Prize, and here's why I deserve one:

I don't shout at anyone anymore. I have retired from that game. Neither do I get into fights. I was always getting knocked out and to be honest, I'm now just too fat and old. I am still feisty and I still get into arguments, but that's because I like to pit my wits (such as they are) against others. Also because I'm always right (not that I'm boasting, its a burden I have to live with).

The reason I am so desperate to get a Peace Prize is that just like Mr Obama, I, one day in the future, plan to be REALLY peaceful. Yep, I'm going to lock myself in a white painted room with nothing to distract me or annoy me. I am going to think peaceful thoughts and and not even argue with myself. I know that sounds difficult but it isn't. You see, to argue with myself means I have to provoke myself - and if I'm being peaceful, I can't do that. Win-win!

Regarding dates, well, I'll let you decide that - although the sooner I get my Peace Prize, the sooner I can get on with carrying out my intentions.

Kind regards and expectant thanks

Paul

PS Do you do bank transfers or cheque for the prize money? Only I prefer a transfer because cheques still take a while to clear.

PPS Do I get a trophy too? It would look good next to my 2nd place (veterans) Enduro trophy that I won in 1999. I also won a (dead, plucked) chicken and a bottle of Zimbabwean wine (Mukuyu Cabernet) at that enduro and saw a dead python on the way home.

PPPS Do I get to attend a glitzy awards ceremony with a red carpet and all? I want to get papparazzied and go in a posh magazine like OK or Hello.

Copyright © 2009 Paul R Davey. All photographs, text and artworks in this portfolio are copyrighted and owned by the artist, Paul R Davey unless otherwise stated. Any reproduction, modification, publication, transmission, transfer, or exploitation of any of the content, for personal or commercial use, whether in whole or in part, without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.

The Abominable Works of Zerx and His Friends

In 2012 London will be hosting the Olympic Games. Splendid! I am fully in support of the games as I do believe that there will be a permanent, useful legacy left behind in the form of stadia, housing and sporting facilities. I have no fear that the Olympic park will fall into a state of disuse as has happened in several cities.

Where I have a problem with the London Olympics is in its branding. Now I don't want to go into a rant about how horrible the logo is (it is awful), I want to go into a rant about its origins: Graffiti. Yes, the design agency that birthed this horrible piece of graphic art chose to celebrate the territory-marking piss dribbles of taggers. They, in their wisdom decided to, celebrate gang culture. Knife crime. Gun crime. Drugs. They decided to celebrate the lonely, dispiriting, expensive, ongoing battle a very nice, elderly Italian gentleman from my neighbourhood has with a graffiti tagger, who defaces his home on a weekly basis. Is graffiti what sums up London??

The 2012 Olympic Logo

Nearly all towns and cities suffer from the hideous scarring of graffiti. Some of it is a genuine attempt at making art - and on rare occasions it adds a positive, interesting detail to the cityscape. Most of the time it definitely does not. Some tagging is gang related – marking out territories. Most of it though, is simply the pointless, thoughtless handiwork of bored "youths" (some are well into their twenties) who just like to show the world where they have been. Quite why we would want to know where these pointless vandals have been beats me, but there is at least one valuable dimension to their 'work': We get to keep count. And each instance of their tags is (well, they bloody should be) one count of vandalism added to their charge sheet.

This tag "Zerx", is seen all over north west London in quite literally, thousands of places. I would be unsurprised if the cost of professionally repairing/removing the damage doesn't run into several millions.

What we need to be very clear about is that tagging is in no way a legitimate form of self expression. Tagging has no wit. It has no merit. It destroys the work of much better artists and architects. Near my home is a body shop and panelbeating business. The owner of the property commissioned a proper, bona fide graffiti artist to create some stencil paintings on his external walls. I liked them. My son's band even had their publicity shots taken in front of them. They were pretty clever. Simple black on white. They had wit - he'd created characters with cameras for heads and named them Mr FFFFFF etc. (after HTML colours). Whilst not being everyone's cup of tea, they were indeed art; the visual expression of someone's talent and imagination.

So there we are, a small body shop having added in its own little way to the artistic value of London. What happens next? I will tell you. "Zerx" whose many thousands of acts of vandalism litter north west London scrawled his tag in flourescent pink paint over the artwork, ruining it in just seconds.

In London, graffiti is considered to be if a crime at all, a minor crime. The police it seems, believe they are too busy to have to deal with it. (I challenge the police to arrest and charge this criminal - there is no question as to his identity) They have come to accept that our buildings, our architecture, our street furniture, graves (yes, graves), trees, shopfonts etc. are continually covered in ugly tags and obscenities. They appear to have given up. And why not? The courts merely treat taggers as naughty little scamps. They might be sentenced at worst to a little bit of community service (almost certainly NOT cleaning up the mess they created). They might be ordered to go for counseling (the poor little dears are releasing their pent up angst by defacing peoples' property). Bullshit!

The punishment does not fit the crime. There is no connection between the crime and the consequence. I can understand that the courts would not want to impose the death penalty on a tagger (Its been abolished, apparently) but to sentence them to a hug and a nice chat? That is just not justice.

It is my belief that if someone is convicted of tagging then they should be made to pay for the costs of having their work removed. Any of their victims should be allowed to pursue them for the costs of repairs. Obviously most of these idiots could never in a million lifetimes earn enough to properly pay for the damage they have created, but I believe that there should be a way of having for the next few years (depending on the severity of the damage), a deduction from either their benefits or their wages - when and if they ever bother to work.


Copyright © 2009 Paul R Davey. All photographs, text and artworks in this portfolio are copyrighted and owned by the artist, Paul R Davey unless otherwise stated. Any reproduction, modification, publication, transmission, transfer, or exploitation of any of the content, for personal or commercial use, whether in whole or in part, without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.

Afflicted

This blog was originally to be about graphic design and marketing for small businesses, but from the off its been about that and just about anything else that enters my head. One day I will set up another blog for the other stuff and this can return to its original purpose. Perhaps...

Today, I want to write about something that has for the past 12 - 13 years been a part of my life. An unwelcome part, but a component that nevertheless interlocks with all the others that make me who I am: Cluster Headaches. We call them "The Beast".

As I write today, I am drained of almost all of my energy. My right eye is half shut - indeed, the right side of my face is drooping a little. I am short of breath, exhausted. My back aches and may arms feel far too heavy to be mine. They are someone else's, surely. I have to concentrate just to pick up a glass of water. Its heavy. I am utterly, totally and completely drained. I have the shakes and am mistyping every second word. Essentially, I have been beaten up again and again since yesterday afternoon. I am badly hurt and in shock.

Every few weeks (sometimes its several months) I get a visit from the Beast. Sometimes the attacks never amount to much as I catch them early and can prevent them going out of control - either that or the Beast chooses not to torment me this time, saving its vicious bile for another day.

When the headaches strike, its as though a thick, oozing, red-black poison is slowly flowing through my brain, invading and infecting its billions of vessels, cracks and crevices. I can almost taste it - coppery, acid, yet thick and cloying. My right eye aches horribly and sharp bolts of pain start arcing and flickering through my brain, increasing in intensity and frequency until they join together in a tangled knot of deep, black, Satanic agony that totally overwhelms me.

The pain is beyond breathtaking. Its like a whole bunch of those sharp, short "ice cream" headaches at once, yet with more depth, as though you've been hit on the head with a hammer. I pant. I try to walk away from it, I try to transfer it by pinching myself, by punching things. I have deliberately smashed my head hard against the wall before (Head 0, Wall 1). I try to hold my head, but that can be difficult too - I feel as though my hands could flay the skin from my skull. And then it gets worse. You never remember the pain until you get it again. "Stay calm!" I try, but my rational thoughts are attacked and overrun by the poison and I thrash about and gasp, and moan, a 100Kg, forty seven year old man reduced to a sobbing, gasping, helpless wreck calling for my mum.

They say that Cluster Headaches are supposed to be the most painful medical condition known; that a cluster headache is more painful than childbirth. Well, I don't know about that but if that is true, last night between the hours of 5pm and 11pm I had sextuplets. Fortunately, I had the Lovely Anna who knows how to help me calm down and regain control. Control is everything when dealing with pain. The few times I have properly lost control were not pretty - and to be frank, are dangerous to me as rationale goes out the window and madness creeps in. The pain is so vicious, so emotionally destabilising that self harm and indeed suicide seem perfectly acceptable options. That's the other name for Cluster headaches: "Suicide Head".

Little is known about Cluster headaches. Many doctors never come across a sufferer and so misdiagnosis is common (I self diagnosed after scouring the internet). They are not migraines. Migraine sufferers have different symptoms and exhibit different behaviour when suffering. Clusters are thought to be precipitated by something misfiring in the brain's hypothalamus, triggering a severe reaction in the trigeminal nerve - that's the huge nerve that controls our faces. I won't go into details because there are so many theories surrounding the condition, but if you want to know more, have a look here.

So, there I am twisting and writhing as the Beast invades me. What do I do? Well, to start, if I can get in quick enough, a can of Red Bull (a taste which I truly detest!) can abort an attack, but seeing as my headaches can go from nothing to full strength in less than a minute, this doesn't often work. I also have oxygen tanks that dispense O2 at 15 litres a minute and I breathe that. Not sure if it works, but having run out last night without a resupply until tomorrow, I am feeling quite vulnerable. I also take a "beta blocker", Verapamil in, according the pharmacist, dangerous quantities. This time they appear not to be working. And, I religeously take Nurofen "Migraine Strength" every four hours. I have several times managed to terminate a bout by just sticking to the Veraps and the Nurofens for a couple of days. Not so this time. If that's not enough medication, I have Imigran injections on standby too, but I hate them and they seem to have little to no effect.

(At this point I stopped writing as another attack with peaks and troughs between strength 5 and strength 9-10 commenced, lasting from 10.30am till about midnight.)

So here I am again. Another morning feeling exhausted. I actually managed to sleep a little last night, but woke up at 4. 30 without a headache but hungry. Ate a tiny bit of chicken pie and two new potatoes. Couldn't stomach more. Had a fruit salad instead. I am addicted. The sharp, sweet-sourness seems cleansing to me. Is it a craving similar to those experienced by pregnant women? (Well, it seems only fair that as a man, if I'm allowed to experience the pain of childbirth, surely I can have cravings too? Where will it end? ) Is my body demanding something that is in fruit salad?

I'm hoping that today I will not be subjected to another bout like yesterday which was particularly nasty but already the signs are not that hopeful - I have shadows - low-grade headaches that twitch and swirl through my brain - they are more a sensation than pain, but they can be the overture to the main event. They can (and lets all hold thumbs at this point) be the worst that can happen as the Verapamil gains the upper hand and the Beast is wrestled to the ground, rendered pretty much ineffective.

The other bit of good news is that at some point today I get replacement oxygen tanks and this neatly brings me to the most important part of this blog post: The pure, shining, glowing beauty of the NHS.

Right now, there are many, many people in the United States who also suffer from Cluster headaches. And they simply cannot afford to have them treated. I on the other hand, here in Britain have access to all the treatment I need. I don't pay for doctor's appointments. I don't pay for prescription renewals. Out of O2? I simply call the oxygen people and they deliver. For FREE! I pay just £7.60 for a month's supply of Verapamil. And I pay the same amount for Imigran Injections. Peanuts! If I had to pay for the Imigran, well, I wouldn't be able to - or I'd be too scared to use it in case I 'wasted' it when a greater need was lurking round the corner.

I do accept that in the States its not going to be simple to introduce a system similar to the NHS, and that there are many large and powerful organisations that make a killing (literally?) from selling health insurance, but come on America, you are not the Third World. Provide healthcare to your many, many people who have not benefited from your capitalist land of dreams. Use your imaginations. Your people have to use theirs - there are some sufferers who buy welding oxygen to help themselves. Sort it!

I count myself fortunate - beyond fortunate that I live in the UK. Back home in my beloved Zimbabwe I'd have to grin and bear it. In the States, I'd have to hand over all my earnings for relief. Most of all though, I am extremely lucky that my headaches are episodic. There are people who live day-in and day-out without a break for years with this awful condition. Even worse, there are a few children who have this mainly adult disease. How on earth does a child cope with these vicious, evil attacks? God protect them!

If you've read this far, well done. I'm unsure of whether I'm seeking pity or whether I'm just wanting to spread awareness of this disease. Lets go for spreading awareness. Its more gallant. Sure, I could always use a little sympathy, but then so could just about anybody - and if you have any, save it for the children and the chronic sufferers.

Have a look at this.


Copyright © 2009 Paul R Davey. All photographs, text and artworks in this portfolio are copyrighted and owned by the artist, Paul R Davey unless otherwise stated. Any reproduction, modification, publication, transmission, transfer, or exploitation of any of the content, for personal or commercial use, whether in whole or in part, without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.

Jumping through hoops

Okay, I'm now getting grumpy. A lot grumpy.

After having my bank card stopped by my bank because some cretin nicked the details and went on a spending spree in the Philippines, I am expecting after ten days to get my new card sometime today. This means I will be able to spend money again – and make up for a weekend lost to being cashless.

My plan is to invite myself out for dinner. I am not sure where I will go yet, but it will be good. I like to treat myself well occasionally and I have narrowed my choices down to a few places, each of which I am sure will provide me with an excellent meal in a fine atmosphere. Wine will be drunk and I'll have a truly fascinating conversation with myself. Who knows, I might even take myself home and ask me in for a cup of coffee...

When I get to my chosen restaurant, it is my plan to have a look at the menu, select a dish and ask (via the maitre'd) for the chef to cook it for me to see if its what I would like to order. If it is not what I want, I will ask him to cook something else instead and I will, when it arrives, see if its a better option. I might, being an Olympic-level procrastinator, then ask for dish number one to be brought back so I can compare the two side by side. Hell, you know what? I think I'll take both dishes home so that the Lovely Anna can give me her opinion.

Then, because I want a really good dining experience, I will take both dishes back and summon the chef. We'll sit around the table and I'll tell the chef where the Lovely Anna thinks he went wrong. I'll also make some suggestions on how he can improve the dish. The chef, at this stage, should become quite tetchy. Lets christen him, "Tetchy Chef". I will ask him to humour me and once he has altered the two dishes as per the Lovely Anna's suggestions, I'll take them home again and ask her opinion.

Fresh from receiving the Lovely Anna's opinion, I will return to the restaurant and will summon the Tetchy Chef and the Maitre'd and suggest that perhaps the original version of the dish is after all, the better option. The Tetchy Chef will disappear into the kitchen and will reappear after some time carrying the dish that I and the Lovely Anna have so helpfully perfected for him. As he and the maitre'd prepare to unveil the dish, I will beckon a recently arrived young gentleman over and ask him to reveal the contents of his satchel: A Domino's pizza.

Placing the pizza next to the Tetchy Chef's dish, I will then invite all the other diners to "tell me what they think". I am of course, deeply aware of the value of market research. When the Tetchy Chef's dish is declared the better, I will then agree to have that dish served to me. (Me allow personal preferences to override market consensus? Heaven forbid!)

But:

I want it for the same price as the pizza! And I'd like to have the sauce from Tetchy Chef's first offering. And the chips too. Also, would the Tetchy Chef mind awfully if he used the same pepperoni's from the Domino's pizza? You see, I want Duck a la'orange with chips, cheese sauce and pepperoni. And can it all be organic please. Organic's very "in" these days.

When my meal eventually arrives at my table, I will begin the long, laborious and not altogether pleasant task of chewing my way through the hideous concoction of clashing, lukewarm flavours. My witty and erudite conversation with myself will dry up as I try to look like I'm enjoying the results of my intervention in the Tetchy Chef's efforts. With the ingredients of the meal curdling in the boiling cauldron of my stomach I'd order more wine to try and soothe the heartburn. I'd glug down a huge draft, failing to notice the little raft of saliva floating on its surface...

Eventually, like most nightmares, the meal will come to an end. The Maitre'd will present the bill along with a mint. Of course, I will then take great umbrage. "What??? Twelve pounds??? Are you bloody mad? Hell, I've never had such a disgusting meal in my life! I have heartburn, a belly ache, and the wine to be quite honest, was bloody awful. Tasted like a smoker's spittle! Lets make things quite clear", I'd continue, "I have had to help you here. I have had to get my Lovely Anna to help. And I had to get all the other customers in the restaurant to help. You are supposed to be professionals! And you wanted to charge me two times as much as the cost of the pizza? I am not prepared to pay for this."

Now, I'm sure there are only a very few people on the earth who would torment a Maitre'd and a Tetchy Chef in such a way, but let me tell you, that if the Maitre'd and the Tetchy Chef worked in marketing, such mistreatment is rather more common. Common enough for me to feel bound to blog about it.

It is truly staggering the amount of "free meals" that are cooked in various creative studios around the world. Clients expect their agencies to offer a range of options and to be fair, agencies have gone along with this. Hell, I know I do. We have to jump through the most ridiculous number of hoops to satisfy clients that they are getting their money's worth. We have to endure "spouse input" ("she's done a course in interior design and is quite arty") and we have to be good natured about shoehorning the ideas of the client's "niece at art college" into our work.

I have lost count of the number of times I have had to explain to an incredulous client that because he wanted this, this and this added to his job he has to pay more. ("But you quoted me!") I have also been told so many times that "I could get it done cheaper in India" that I now wholeheartedly recommend the client takes his brief and fucks off to India.

Clients demand cleverness. They demand clarity. The need ideas that are crystalline and pure yet so many insist on amateurishly mixing awkward, ugly cocktails of ideas and influences. They work against, not with their agency and they make us try stuff we know will fail ("oh please just humour me...")

As agencies or lone "guns for hire" we have portfolios of work. Most of us have websites where the work can be seen. Clients or potential clients should be able to see quite clearly whether we meet their expectations. They don't need us to re-prove ourselves by doing expensive (to us, free for them) pitches for their business. Go by reputation. Go by track record. And then when you've selected us, don't try and change the way we work. Don't interfere unnecessarily, you'll usually end up muddying the water.


Copyright © 2009 Paul R Davey. All photographs, text and artworks in this portfolio are copyrighted and owned by the artist, Paul R Davey unless otherwise stated. Any reproduction, modification, publication, transmission, transfer, or exploitation of any of the content, for personal or commercial use, whether in whole or in part, without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.