Hugh MacLeod Cartoons drawn on the back of business cards
Hugh MacLeod
I’m Hugh MacLeod. I’m a cartoonist. Occasionally I write books. gapingvoid is interested in start-up culture, because changing business for the better is what we’re about; that’s what Social Object Factory is about. We live and breathe it; we help everyone from lone entrepreneurs, to mid-sizers, to Fortune 500’s do the same. Check out our work here.
We create art that helps companies kick ass, end of story.
If you want to talk business, then it’s probably best to please contact my business partner, gapingvoid CEO Jason Korman, here. We look forward to working with you. Thanks!
Simon Thornhill is a good friend of mine. He and his lovely wife own The Troubadour in London, the legendary restaurant and nightclub. Jimi Hendrix and Bob Dylan played there, back when they were still unknown. The Thornhills bought the place from the previous owners a few years ago.
Before that, Simon was an officer in The Scots Guards, a highly respected Scottish regiment in the British Army. He’s tough as nails, but a bit of a hippie, too. If you ever visit Earl’s Court, look him up. He’s terrific company.
I don’t know what we were were talking about that night in The Shackleton Room, but somehow the conversation got on to the subject of young Army officers. Some of the kids I went to high school in Edinburgh with ended up joining Regiments straight after finishing their exams, so Simon’s previous life wasn’t a world completely unknown to me. These kids sign up at age seventeen or eighteen, take their two-year training at Sandhurst, and the next thing you know, they’re in the field, armed to the teeth, and giving orders to experienced Sargeants and Corporals twice their age.
I don’t know about you, but I would find that REALLY intimidating. Those young kids must have cojones, I’ll tell you that. I was telling Simon how terrifying I thought it it must be, to be a kid barely out of school, with all the men FAR more experienced than you under your command, holding you in the traditional squaddies’ contempt reserved for all new, young officers.
“Yes, that certainly happens,” said Simon. “But then you finally have what they call in the Army, ‘The Moment’. The Moment when you stop trying to be your men’s new best friend, and actually start to lead them. That’s when you REALLY become an officer– not before, when you receive your commission.
“That happened to me when we were on a night exercise. I had only received my commission a few months previously. Things were going terribly wrong, nobody was doing their jobs. Everything was in shambles. Finally I had my ‘Moment’. I just pulled my finger out, and firmly said to the men, ‘I’m in command, you’re not, you will do as I say or I will have you all up on charges, Boys. Now fucking go do your jobs.’ Somehow they knew I wasn’t joking.
“And so they went off and obeyed their orders, without any fuss. A few of them were easily ten or fifteen years older than me… The thing is, they might not think much of the young kid giving them orders at first, but at the same time, soldiers do want to be led.”
As with Simon, I think we all need to have that “Moment”, eventually. That moment when we stop futzing around and actually start behaving like proper adults. That moment when we actually start acting like “Officers” commanding our own lives.
I remember mine. I didn’t think too much about it at the time, but over the years I realized just how key it ended up being.
I was a young freelance advertising creative, living in London, meeting a friend for a drink at my regular Soho watering hole, The Coach & Horses.
The bar was crowded and noisy that evening. The barmaid was a young, pretty Chinese lass, who’d only been in the country a short while, who spoke pretty good English, but not great.
I asked the barmaid for a glass of wine for my friend, and for me, a gin & tonic with FOUR slices of lime. I even held up four fingers to help make it clear to her.
So the poor barmaid ended up bringing me back five drinks– my friend’s glass of wine, with FOUR gin & tonics, each with a SINGLE slice of lime. Oops. We’re talking a round that I suppose easily exceeded thirty or forty dollars.
A simple misunderstanding, I guess, plus like I said, her English wasn’t very good. I told the barmaid about the mix-up. “No, I asked for a SINGLE gin & tonic with FOUR slices of lime” etc.
Up until that moment, like any young pub drinker, I probably would then have just asked the barmaid to take the surplus three drinks away, and add more lime slices to the remaining gin. Easy. But I didn’t.
Instead, I asked her, “Will this mistake be coming out of your wages?”
“Yes,” she replied. I already knew enough about the bar’s owner to know that she wasn’t lying.
The thing is, unlike here in the US, the people working in London pubs don’t work for tips, mainly because nobody really tips there. You might get five or ten dollars a night if you’re lucky. They get paid by the hour, usually minimum wage, in one of the most expensive cities in the world. Hence London bartenders tend to be really, really poor. The mistake the barmaid made would be, for her, extremely expensive. Two-three hours’ wages or so, maybe even more.
“Never mind,” I said. “Just put three more limes in one of the glasses, and I’ll pay for the other three gins as well.” Which I did.
Then it was just a matter of finding three random people in the bar who were not above accepting free gin & tonics from a total stranger with an American accent. This being The Coach & Horses, that took all of twenty seconds. “Cheers, Mate!”
A year or two before that, I would’ve just probably allowed the young barmaid to take the hit. “You made the mistake, not me, not my problem” etc.
London was being kind to me at the time; life was good. Whereas this young Chinese girl was living thousands of miles away from her family, and probably doing so very close to the poverty line. So I chose to take the hit instead of her. I know I didn’t have to, I was perfectly within my rights, but…
I didn’t want to be that kind of person anymore. I really didn’t. So that was my “Moment”.
And every enterprise I’ve ever started or been involved with, had its Moment as well. That moment where you finally decide not to cut corners, not to make excuses, even if you can get away with it. Even if 99% of other businesses wouldn’t have bothered.
These moments are gold dust, they really are.
Has your business had its “Moment” yet? If not, what can you do to make it happen sooner? Serious question.
[Update: Molly made a lovely point in the comments:]
The Moment is a confluence of empathy, understanding and clarity that enables you to elevate yourself to your next stage of development. I have a true Moment about once a year, and it falls within a different category each time (ie. Parenting, personal, professional).
Now that my October travels are over, I’m sitting at my desk again, working on my second book, EVIL PLANS. Here are some notes:
1. The definition of an “EVIL PLAN” is, quite simply, a great idea that the world isn’t quite ready for yet, or at least, doesn’t think it is. Think of all the world-changing ideas that met resistance when they first came out. The motor car (“What’s wrong with a good horse?”). The telephone (“Hey, if someone wants to speak to me, they can damn well come and visit me at my office, or write me a letter.”). Universal Education (“We can’t have commoners learning how to read– it’ll give them all these fancy ideas they have no business thinking!”). Personal Computers (“The world is perfectly happy with $5 million mainframes, Laddie.”). Women’s Suffrage (“Women? Voting? But they’re not mentally stable enough to choose a good leader!”).
2. Everybody needs their own EVIL PLAN. Because that’s our ticket off the treadmill, the nine-to-five, the working for The Man. Being a wage slave in the post-industrial world sucks. Besides, the latter doesn’t pay very well.
3. Everyone needs to find meaning in the brief time they’re living on this planet. Besides Love– friends, family, babies, your fellow man etc– I believe the best way to achieve that is to find a way of making a living that (A) pays the bills and (B) creates something that you can believe in. We are happiest when the work we do fulfills a sense of purpose. This isn’t rocket science. This is just an EVIL PLAN to get our sorry asses out of the salt mine and on to doing something that matters.
4. EVIL PLANS are not really “Evil”, of course. Maybe “Impish” would be a more accurate term. But calling it “Evil” is really pretty “Impish”, so hey, it works. There is something rather mischievous about having something up your sleeve that will surprise everybody eventually– something that will carry “the joyfully unexpected” to a place it wasn’t before.
5. My good friend, John T Unger once said, “Probably the easiest way to create good in this world, is by starting a small business that makes cool stuff.” I totally agree. That’s how I’ve chosen to spend my life; the point of EVIL PLANS is to reach out to those who have done the same. There are MILLIONS of us. It’s damn exciting.
6. “It’s not just enough to make money. One needs Personal Sovereignty as well.” My Scottish grandfather was poor as dirt his whole life. But he died a free and proud man, and loved by countless many. One thing Grandpa didn’t like, was being told what to do by other people. Especially bureaucrats. “Wee Mannies”, he called them. Small men who used their State-given authority to push bigger men around. They never really pushed Grandpa around, though– frankly, they weren’t that dumb. As I get older, the more I realize how much I take after Grandpa MacLeod. Which is why I own my own business, which is why I would never do well in a large corporation. I don’t like having bosses. I don’t like being told what to do. Again, there are millions of people out there who feel the same. Again, it’s exciting.
7. I’m not writing a “How-To” book. A library of How-To books won’t tell you as much as the following sentence: “Work your ass off for twenty years and THEN, JUST MAYBE you’ll finally get a frickin’ clue.” Like my first book, IGNORE EVERYBODY, I’m just compiling a list of all the stuff that has helped me over the years. But it’s true– a little talent & a good work ethic goes a lot farther than a lot of talent & a poor work ethic. As a lot of my hapless, talented-but-lazy friends found out far too late.
8. I’ve been an artist, I’ve been an entrepreneur. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference– they’re far more similar than the popular myths would have us believe. A fortysomething musician sent me an email recently. He told me that, although his life for the most part has been a happy one– good health, lovely wife, great kids, good friends, nice house, etc– his career has always been a bit foggy for him, like he was never sure what would happen next. I replied, “No worries, your situation happens A LOT with creative people, even among the super-creative-successful types. The never-ending fog of being an artist.” Whether we’re talking art or being an entrepreneur, “The Fog” is always with us. There is no cure, there is only building up a tolerance. And a good sense of humor helps, as well.
9. I think human beings inherently want to do “Something That Matters”. I think it’s in our DNA. I think the people who say they don’t want do something that matters are liars. I also think having an EVIL PLAN constantly in the back of our minds– quitting our day job and opening a bar, writing the Great American Novel, whatever– is also in our DNA. EVIL PLANS is a meditation about finally waking the hell up and going off to do something meaningful.
10. Life is an adventure. EVIL PLANS is my way of proving the preceding sentence correct. And the people who want to prove me wrong? They’re welcome to try– even if they’ll probably fail. Screw ‘em anyway.
Rudy’s BBQ, my favorite restaurant chain in Texas, serves REALLY good “Sause”, which they also sell by the bottle.
Being the total “Social Object” geek, I’ll say it again– It’s not the sauce in the bottle which makes the Rudy’s “Sause” brand interesting– it’s the social interaction that happens around it that’s interesting.
It’s fun to go to Rudy’s with your friends to talk and eat. It’s fun to buy some ribs at the supermarket, get the smoker in the back yard fired up, douse the meat with Rudy’s Sause, fill up the cooler with beer, crank up the Willie Nelson and invite some friends over.
And yes, if Rudy’s sucked, if Rudy’s BBQ sauce sucked, it would be less fun. And so we wouldn’t buy it; we’d go with something else. It’s the friends and fun we’re actually paying for– the human interaction– not the red stuff in the bottle.
Too many brand managers ask the question, “What message do I have to craft in order to get people to buy my product?” It’s a dead end. A far more useful and profitable question would be, “What can I do to make my customers’ lives more interesting and meaningful?”
And “Meaningful” always has a social dynamic. We find meaning via our relationships with our fellow creatures. “People matter. Objects don’t.”
A bottle of barbecue sauce isn’t going to instantly change anyone’s life for the better. But that 4-hour-long conversation with an old friend, sharing a plate of ribs and brisket, with some Shiner Bock… Well, that might. So you want your product to be there when it happens; you want your product to be around during your customers’ significant moments.
Rudy’s understands this. How about you?
P.S. If that latter “Interesting & Meaningful” question sounds like a hard one to answer, that’s because it is. There’s a reason why the companies who manage to pull it off on a fairly consistent basis –Apple, Nike etc– are worth tens of billions.
But the important thing — and the really revolutionary stuff at play here — is that this kind of (Internet) technology destroys many of the cultural, economic and politic brakes on our fundamentally social nature.
[Outside the venue, 6pm: John St., Toronto, 22nd October, 2008.]
Just got back from a brief, 2-night stay in Toronto. I was there for Mesh, where I gave the keynote. Here are some notes:
1. I talked a lot abut social objects, and the fact that I think “Passion Is Social”. It was a good crowd, with lot of corporate PR and advertising types. When dealing with corporate types, I always run up against the same question at least once or twice: “I work in a corporate environment, I get paid to pull levers on behalf of my client. Please show me where the lever is in the Web 2.0 space”. To which I always answer, “I can’t tell you where the lever is, because it doesn’t exist.” Then I tell them, “You don’t create social objects by pulling levers; you create social objects by creating social gestures.” Then I tell them, “Virals don’t start life out as virals, they start life out as gifts. And gifts are always in conflict with their own value.” Then I tell them, it’s a brand’s job to be interesting. And what makes a brand interesting is the human interaction around the brand, not the inherent qualities of the brand itself. Some people get it, some people don’t, some people kinda get it, even if they’d rather not.
I said a lot more than that, of course, but this is what I came away with. All in all, it was a lovely little conference, and I REALLY appreciate being invited.
2. At the event we had some of my prints on display, which I ended up selling more than a few of. Big Thanks to Amrita Chandra for helping me out with that.
3. I really like Toronto. Hard to believe a city that big, diverse and culturally vibrant could be that laid back.
4. On Friday I had breakfast in Toronto, lunch in Manhattan, dinner in DFW airport, and a nightcap in my hotel in El Paso, Texas. A long day, to say the least. I had to pop in to my printer’s in New York quickly to sign the Portfolio Number Two prints, which will be starting to ship out next week. Manhattan added an extra half-day to my travels, but it saved a lot of time and hassle in the long run.
5. October has been a very busy month for me for traveling. Drove back and forth from the airport three times this month already (a 440 mile round trip from Alpine, Texas). Now that’s the current traveling phase is pretty much over, I’m hunkering down to get on with the Cube Grenade project. That, and the second book to get finished. No rest for the wicked etc.
[Bonus Link:] A WONDERFUL slideshow re. The Internet & The Advertising Business from Toronto’s David Gillespie:
11“x14”, Rives-Arches French made paper, hand-printed, limited-edition serigraphs, hand-signed and numbered by me, i.e. the exact same format as before.
This portfolio will be smaller versions of prints we have already published on the gallery. People like the bigger prints (“Purple Cow”, for example, is 39“x28”), but small ones have their place, too (especially if you like hanging art in downstairs bathrooms etc.).
Also, with the Holiday Season coming up, these wee “Cube Grenades” will make a lovely gift for people. Because of their relatively small size, you don’t have to worry so much about where the person receiving it is going to find room to hang it etc.
You can buy the entire portfolio of four prints, framed, for $495 plus Shipping & Handling. Or you can buy them individually, framed, for $150 each, plus Shipping & Handling.
I’ll announce when the Portfolio is up on the gallery site and ready to go, or you can reserve yours now by clicking on one of the two PayPal Deposit buttons below (one for the portfolio of four, one for buying a print individually etc.), and we’ll put you first on the list. The other advantage of using the PayPal button instead of waiting for the offering to go live on the gallery website is, the earlier you place the deposit, the easier it is to reserve a certain number of an edition you may care to have.
The plan is to have these printed, signed and shipped out within the month, so plenty of time before Christmas and Hannuka.
I hope you like what you see, this going to be a great little series. If you have any questions, please feel free to leave a comment below. Thank You.
[TO PURCHASE PORTFOLIO #3 — $75.00 DEPOSIT]
[TO PURCHASE AN INDIVIDUAL “PORTFOLIO # 3″ PRINT — $50.00 DEPOSIT: Once the prints are up on the gallery site, we’ll e-mail you to confirm which one of the four you want specifically etc.]
Back in July, I interviewedHazel Dooney, a very successful Australian artist. Asking her about how she manages her business, she made a very lucid point, one that has really stuck with me:
But none of it works without discipline. Early on in my career, I was told that success demanded one thing above all others: turning up. Turning up every bloody day, regardless of everything.
Besides the famous Woody Allen quote, this reminds me of when I wash about 18, living in Edinburgh. I was talking to the cartoonist, Hugh Dodd, who was a regular in the bar I worked in at the time. I asked him what was the secret of being a successful cartoonist, in his opinion.
“Continuity,” he said. “Anyone can draw a good cartoon… ONCE. But not everyone can draw a good cartoon, every day, day-in-day-out. It’s something you have to work VERY HARD at for many years before you even get close…”
Heh. Many years later, and I still don’t feel anywhere near “close”. Does anybody? But that’s what keeps us going, I suppose…
What can I say? It was a blast. Everybody seemed to have a great time. More than one person came up to me and said it was a lot more fun than any art opening they’d ever been to. You can see what people are saying on Twitter (for the time being, anyway) by following the #purplecow hashtag…
Thanks to Seth Godin for being such a gracious co-host, thanks to everybody who helped out, thanks to everybody who came along for it.
A special big thanks to Martha Burzynski, Carlo Balistrieri, and Cecilia Feret for volunteering their time to help us out at the door. That was so kind of you, seriously. Thanks to David Parmet and Sandi Bachom for the great photos and videos [posted above].
And a final thank-you to my business colleagues, Jason and Laura, who worked tirelessly for SO LONG behind the scenes to make sure the evening was nothing short of a massive success. You guys rock. Ok, I’m going to go off and sleep for a week…
Within 1 week of meeting this person you realize that not only have you found your soulmate, but you’ve found your soulmate who likes to have sex 4 times a day in the bed, on the dining table, on the kitchen floor, in the changing rooms at Bloomingdale’s etc.
Within 2 weeks you’re already talking about moving in together.
Within 3 weeks you’re talking about having babies together.
Within 4 weeks you realize this person is a complete psychopath.
Within 5 weeks this person also thinks you’re a complete psychopath.
Within 6 weeks you’re sitting at a restaurant with an old friend who is giving you the “How come you only call me when you’re single” speech.
Last night I was in the West Village bar I drew that cartoon in, back in 1998. The cartoon ended up in the book…
I’m in The Big Apple, running around like a tormented lunatic, getting all the last-minute-stuff done for the Purple Cow print party on Thursday [Tomorrow night!]. So far it hasn’t been too stressful, he lied…
As a working artist, I divide my day into two parts. “Bleed and Feed”.
The Bleed Part. Taking care of business. Doing work for my clients. Working on new Cube Grenade ideas etc. Trying to find new clients etc. Trying to get my bills paid etc etc.
The Feed Part. I go and make drawings for myself. Completely non-commercial. Often no more than doodling in my sketchbook. Just me and a pen, trying to feed my well. Often accompanied by a nice glass of red.
I try to do both every day. “Bleed” gets my morning and afternoons. “Feed” happens mostly after dinner, before bedtime.
All successful artists “Bleed and Feed”, in their own way. The ones who don’t– who just try to do one or the other– tend to burn out rather quickly. That’s just Reality.
Somebody just emailed me to ask, why did I use red and gray for the New York print?
Besides aesthetic reasons [Red & Gray gives the piece a sort of retro-hipster Ben Shahn vibe, which I like], here’s a little more insight.
I have a thing I call “The Red Zone”. The Red Zone is the state of consciousness when you are fully alive– when you are creating something, making art, making love, watching the sun set, whatever. When all your synapses are firing.
I have a thing I call “The Gray Zone”. The Gray Zone is the state of consciousness when you are NOT fully alive– when you’re just bumbling along, half-awake, sleepwalking through life. We’ve all been there, probably a lot more often than we’d care to admit.
“New York” is not just a geographical place to me. It is also a metaphor for the archetypal urban experience.
And I find with this archetypal experience, the battle between the Red Zone and The Gray Zone to dominate one’s mind is at its most intense.
I’ve been playing around with this line a lot recently: “Art For The Real World”.
I’m interested in how art affects what some people call “The Real World”- the workplace, the world of work, the world of business. That’s what the Cube Grenade idea is all about.
My advertising buddy, Vinny Warren, grew up in a Roman Catholic household in Ireland. He was telling me that his parents would always have a few religious icons hanging on the wall somewhere. Pictures of Saints, Mary & Baby Jesus, that kind of thing.
Why? Says Vinny, “To remind us who we were.”
Art that reminds you who you are. Exactly. What applies in Catholic households also applies in places of business. Shared Meaning. Exactly. Social Objects. Exactly.
I think surrounding ourselves with icons, art, books and such to remind ourselves of who we are, where we have been and where we hope to go is essential to keeping our hearts alive. It is too easy to lose our way. My office is full of these things.
As a cartoon, it works. As a piece of advertising, it works. As a piece of communication, it works. As a Cube Grenade, it works. As a social object, it works. As a conversation starter, it REALLY works. I was happy; so was the client.
Like a lot of bloggers with an advertising background, I have spent a lot of time over the years asking the question, “What is the future of advertising?”
Sure, in the last decade there’s been a lot of speculation about how Web 2.0 is going to change EVERYTHING in the industry– everything from putting mainstream agencies out of business, to Google ruling the world with an iron fist. But in spite of all the talk out there, a definitive answer has always remained somewhat elusive.
I think I may have FINALLY had a major breakthrough:
These last few weeks, while I have been VERY busy working on some new Cube Grenade business, it occurs to me that the Cube Grenade concept somehow manages to get both my backgrounds in cartooning and advertising working seamlessly together.
The Cube Grenades aren’t really designed to “sell”, like traditional advertising. They’re designed to hit a nerve and start conversations. Maybe that will help lead to sales down the road, but it’s not the primary purpose. Its primary purpose takes a more indirect, perhaps more disruptive path.
So what is the future of advertising? Well, I don’t know what yours is, but mine is The Cube Grenade. If that’s what you want, you come to me. If you want something different, go elsewhere.
Some people will get this, some people won’t, but that’s probably a good thing. Rock on.
[If you think the Cube Grenade idea could help your business, as always, feel free to e-mail me, Thanks.]
In a rather random moment of clarity, I wrote this line on Twitter a couple of weeks ago:
“A good customer base is the best marketing department there is.”
One thing I remember fondly about my college buddies, back in the day: Not only did they all spend a lot of time and energy listening to Grateful Dead records and attending Grateful Dead concerts, they also spent a lot of time and energy trying to get me to do the same.
Though I never became much of a Dead fan in the end, it sure wasn’t for my friends’ lack of trying. Their mojo may not have worked on me, but hey, it worked on plenty other impressionable young people, so it’s all good.
My college buddies were self-appointed team members of one of the greatest marketing departments in history: The Deadheads.
So who are your customers? Are they your marketing department? If they’re not, they should be, yes?
[This reminds me: Seth Godin cited The Deadheads in his wonderful book, “Tribes”. I interviewed him here about the book etc.]