Old Friends. "A Guest Post by Rich Wallace. (An Old Friend.)

RichWallace and I have been friends for a long time, at least by advertising standards. We sat next to each other and worked alongside each other for five years while at Ogilvy on IBM. Here's a link to Rich's site.

 

Since that agency went ersatz belly-up, Rich and I have gone our separate ways. Making our livings doing what we do. For the last five years for a variety of agencies and a variety of clients--without the long halls of Kafkaesque holding company parsimony. We've even gotten a couple of chances during that time to work together. It's nice to work with a pro--especially a pro like Rich, who has a work ethic like a sodbuster.

Last week, I sent Rich a note. I had an in-design question and I knew Rich could help. Within seconds, he and I were talking on the phone and in just a few more seconds, Rich sent me the ads below and told me the story of how they came to be.

 

Wow.

 

Here's the story in Rich's own words. The thing about work that so many people miss--not just people in what used to be the ad business--is that there are some practitioners, like Rich, who love it.

They love the stresses. The challenges. The entirety of the mishegoss. I think above and beyond that, they love winning. Taking something--a lump of clay in Biblical parlance--and molding something wonderful and inspiring out of it.

 

That's what the best ad people do. And when advertising works, that passion is reflected in the brands we work for. That passion attracts views, customers, advocates for our clients. 

 

All that is pretty basic. But I think too easily forgotten by too many people who are allegedly in the ad business. Too many are complying with a checklist of demands--not trying to do something they can be proud of, and their clients, too. 

Pride matters.
That's why people like Rich matter.

Here's Rich's post:

Old Friends.

I’ve been friends with Edward Boches for around 25 years. I worked with him when we were both at Mullen together. Okay fine, he was the CCO and I worked for him. But over the years we have become friends. And while this is advertising and relationships are fleeting, Edward and I have stayed in touch. I’ve even stayed in touch with George. Which shows you, I’m not discriminating.

Now among many other things, Edward is a prolific documentary photographer and seeing as I've always vacationed with my family in Brewster and Wellfleet on Cape Cod, I am a huge fan of the series he's been shooting on the Wellfleet Oyster fishermen and women. I just loved the shots. The feeling that he captured is part of what I’ve always loved about the Cape. So much in fact, that I reached out and asked if he would mind if I played with his images.

He told me he had no problem with me playing with the photos. But I couldn’t put them online or in a portfolio without approval. He also told me, if I ended up with something that we both liked, maybe they could be used on social media or as posters to promote events for the Wellfleet Oyster Alliance. 

So I went to work, tapped into my blue collar brain (which is the only brain I have) and tried to write what it must be like to be a passionate, hard working Oysterman or woman. What it must be like to have your life dictated by the tide, the lashing wind, blistering cold or blazing heat. Eventually, I had a nice collection of lines that seemed like they’d resonate with those that grow oysters, those that eat the oysters and everyone else that chooses to visit this magical place, on the bay-side of the Cape.

Once I had the headlines I liked I shared them with Edward. We ended up settling on several, one of which he wrote. Which is admittedly, a parody of an old Perdue ad. That ad might be a little "inside-baseball," or "inside oyster," but it might also be a pearl.

 

Soon, Edward and I had some ads that we were both liking. 

 

Initially the ads featured Edward's black and white photos on paper texture and a ghosted tidal chart of the bayside in the background.

 

We both thought the ads looked great, but I still felt like something was missing. So I fiddled with the ads some more, adding patina and a weathered-distressed look. I wanted the work to look as rough and weather-beaten as the people and environment that they were depicting. The photos already had a look. I wanted them to have a feel.

Editor's note: "The ads already had a look. I wanted them to have a feel." That might be the best description of "craft" that I've ever heard.

When I finished, I absolutely loved how they turned out, but to be honest, I didn’t know how Edward would feel. Would he think I pushed them too far and denigrated his beautiful photos?

 

I shared the revision with Edward and he said “They looked fucking awesome!”. Which is what I hoped he’d say.

Edward shared them with the Wellfleet Oyster Alliance, they loved the work. The ads were used on social media to promote Oysterfest, as out of home at the event, as well as posters that were sold and auctioned off.

 

Yesterday I saw one roughly the size of a movie-theater screen. You know, huge. I've been in the business a long time--but seeing my work in situ always excites me.

 

Like so much of the work I’ve tried to do over my three decades in advertising, the best work is work that has your heart in it. Work that comes not just from your brain but from your heart. That’s what the best work always does.

That’s why I love advertising.

And why I’m not afraid of being replaced by AI.

Or a crew of oystermen or women.

By the way, this next part might be TMI, but since George asked, this is why I did what I did--design-wise:

One thing I struggled with was that I didn’t want the headlines to overpower the photography. I wanted the viewer to see Edward's shots and absorb them first. Then I wanted viewers to read the headlines and, I hoped, feel something.

 

I tried the layouts sixty ways to Sunday. Bigger type. Smaller type. Flush this way and that. But always I wanted the lines to take a back seat to the photography. Finally, I added a patina--almost water seeping through a ceiling. I felt it added to the sweat and the sinew of the overall effect. Edward agreed. I hope you do too.

 

In real life, you don't always get to work on projects as inherently cool and emotional as this one. But I think you always have to bring your head and your heart and your fearlessness to them--to try to push them. To try to make something special out of them. To try to make them relatable and visceral--even if you're ten thousand miles from the nearest oyster.

--

Thanks, Rich.

Thanks, Edward.

Thanks, bivalves!