Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

November 16, 2009

life isn’t fucked

life0911

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November 15, 2009

with porn, all things are possible

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[Ori­gi­nally published Novem­ber 29, 2005:]

I was having a long con­ver­sa­tion with a friend last night about “Busi­ness Porn”:

Busi­ness Porn is just like Ordi­nary Porn or Real Estate Porn, except ins­tead of it being about the women we wished we could sleep with, or the hou­ses we wish we owned, it’s about all those cool, luc­ra­tive, exci­ting jobs and busi­nes­ses that we wish we had, ins­tead of the nor­mal, tedious, sch­leppy crap most of us end up doing to pay the bills.

Does your blog suf­fer from low traf­fic? It’s pro­bably because there’s not enough porn on it. Sex Porn, Real Estate Porn, Wine Porn, Biz Porn, Emo­tio­nal Porn, it doesn’t matter.

Porn = Traf­fic.
Porn = Mar­ke­ting.
Porn = Sales.

With Porn, all things are possible.

So now you know.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­viewEssen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

November 14, 2009

the killer app

killerapp0911

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grim reaper

grimreaper0911

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November 9, 2009

the miracle of creation

0911miracle

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November 8, 2009

faq’s

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When I set up gapingvoid.com back in May, 2001, I drew this car­toon for the FAQ page.

As you can see, I still wasn’t quite over my crazy-ass New York life yet… even if that had ended over a year before.

I fore­see my work get­ting quie­ter and more lyri­cal over the next few years. Less rock and roll, more Phi­llip Glass, to use a musi­cal allegory.

Yes, I’m really loo­king for­ward to it. Can’t wait!

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­viewEssen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

fat dumb happy

fatdumbhappy0911

I drew this car­toon this mor­ning, while thin­king about a con­ver­sa­tion I had a cou­ple of years ago:

I was on the phone to an old friend of mine, a guy in his late for­ties, who was born and bred in Michi­gan, and is living there now. He was telling me about his uncle, who, about four deca­des ago, got his highschool sweetheart preg­nant. So ins­tead of going off to college, he found him­self with a new wife, a child on the way, and an assembly-line job at Gene­ral Motors. But even though this situa­tion clip­ped his wings con­si­de­rably, he still ended up having a nice life in the end, with a home, a big yard, two cars, a steady paycheck, wee­kends fishing or hun­ting deer, and vaca­tions in Hawaii every year or so. “The days where a blue collar guy like my uncle could have a nice life without doing much,” my friend said, “those days are gone. Gone forever.”

And in the back of my mind, I’m thin­king the same is star­ting to hap­pen to white collar guys more and more, as well. But it’s not quite out in the open yet. Society’s not quite ready to have that conversation.

I also heard a sta­tis­tic a cou­ple of weeks ago that there are at least thirty million chil­dren in China currently taking piano les­sons. Thirty. Million.

We live in inte­res­ting times…

[Update: ]“Thou­san­dists”: My long-time Spa­nish blog buddy, Nia left an inte­res­ting com­ment below:

That con­ver­sa­tion about white-collar jobs is four years old in Spain.

This is the short ver­sion: The peo­ple who were in their 20-30s in the 1970s saw that a Uni­ver­sity degree made a big dif­fe­rence in your job and salary. They made their kids (anyone born 1970  –  1985) study, and that young gene­ra­tion belie­ved for a while that we could do the same trick as our parents. Get a degree. The job will follow.

We now have a word for peo­ple of my gene­ra­tion with a hand­ful of degrees: mileu­ris­tas. Thou­san­dists. As in, someone who makes around 1,000 euros a month. There’s so many of us, no one’s willing to pay us more than a (barely) living wage.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­viewEssen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

untitled 091108

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November 7, 2009

worship ye…

0911worshipy

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November 6, 2009

lifestyle refugee

0911liefestylerefugee

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­viewEssen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

November 2, 2009

the daily beatings don’t stop. ever.

0911eric

Mark has a fun post over on The Late­ral Action Blog, “Lose Touch With Your Inner Whi­ning Artist”:

Your Inner Whi­ning Artist (IWA) is the part of you that tells you you’re a genius wai­ting to be dis­co­ve­red. If only the big bad world would sit up and recog­nise your talent, the IWA tells you, all your pro­blems would be over. Audien­ces and cri­tics would bow at your feet, agents would queue up to repre­sent you, and all the peo­ple who’d ever rejec­ted your work would be gor­ging them­sel­ves on hum­ble pie. You just need to get your break, to be dis­co­ve­red. It can only be a mat­ter of time …

It’s quite sim­ple, really: Peo­ple who spend a lot of time lis­te­ning to their Inner Whi­ning Artist get the shit bea­ten out of them by the world in gene­ral on a daily basis.

And as long as IWA plays a plays a sig­ni­fi­cant role in your life, the daily bea­tings don’t stop. Ever.

Thank Christ for that.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­viewEssen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

November 1, 2009

don’t worry about being an artist. just worry about getting the work made.

icarus287B

A very res­pec­ted jour­na­list once told me, “I’m always telling stu­dents, if you want to be a jour­na­list, for God’s sake don’t be a Jour­na­lism Major. Study something else, like The Clas­sics or Archi­tec­ture. That means when you start loo­king for work, you’ll be brin­ging something to the table besi­des ‘Shop Talk’.”

Great, great advice. And what’s true for aspi­ring jour­na­lists is also true for artists. We get so fixa­ted on our own shtick– and the shtick of our peers, and whoe­ver is in fashion that week– that we close our­sel­ves up to the very kinds of expe­rience that will make our work dee­per, richer and more inte­res­ting in the long run, and “Talk Shop” ins­tead [And blog­gers are the worst. Why? Because it’s so much easier for a blog­ger to write about social media than it to write about something more ori­gi­nal. I’ve been as guilty as anyone.].

Then again, it’s hard to make a sig­ni­fi­cant body of work long-term, unless you’re totally obses­sed and single-focused. Besi­des eating, drin­king and scre­wing, Picasso didn’t do much else with his time, except make art.

On this sub­ject, the best thing I’ve heard recently came from the com­po­ser, Phi­llip Glass, who my Twit­ter buddy, Hazel Doo­ney quo­ted recently: “I have one sec­ret. You get up early in the mor­ning and you work all day. That’s the only secret.”

My advice? Don’t worry about being an artist. Worry about get­ting the work made. If you’re any good, the rest will follow. Rock on.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­viewEssen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

turning down the volume…

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Recently I did  something dra­ma­tic: I got rid of my Black­berry, and I star­ted lea­ving my com­pu­ter at the office.

So now I am without (GASP!) Inter­net access 12 – 16 hours a day!

The “Always-On Cul­ture” had been fee­ling oppres­sive for a while now. Finally I deci­ded to do something about it. Basta.

The big­gest bene­fit so far is; I’m dra­wing a hell of a lot more. This is, after all, what I get paid to do, and what I’ll be remem­be­red for. Nobody will ever care how many Twit­ter follo­wers I had or how SEO-optimized my blog was.

The Inter­net libe­ra­tes us from so much; it’s our duty not to become again ens­la­ved by something else.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­viewEssen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

October 30, 2009

new moleskine drawing: “tried meaningful”

moleskine tried meaningful 2

Just finished this new Moles­kine dra­wing: “Tried Mea­ning­ful”. You can see the enlar­ged image here. Let me know what you think!

[See more like this over at the Moles­kine archive.]

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­viewEssen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

October 28, 2009

“the moment”

yak7778

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 Black Watch, perhaps the most 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).

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­viewEssen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

October 27, 2009

more thoughts on “evil plans”

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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.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Work with Hugh. Twit­ter. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Essen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

October 26, 2009

rudy’s “sause”: social object case study

rudys091026Rudy’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.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Work with Hugh. Twit­ter. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Essen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

October 25, 2009

back from toronto: “passion is social”

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[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:

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Work with Hugh. Twit­ter. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Essen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

October 16, 2009

portfolio number three: pre-order

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[“Ignore Every­body”: Lar­ger ver­sion here.]

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[“New York”. Lar­ger ver­sion here.]

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[“We Need To Talk”. Lar­ger ver­sion here.]

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[“Corinthians”. Lar­ger ver­sion here.]

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[“Port­fo­lio Num­ber One”, han­ging in a collector’s office in Germany.]

After the suc­cess of Port­fo­lio Num­ber One and Port­fo­lio Num­ber Two, we’ll be publishing Port­fo­lio Num­ber Three in about a month.

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.]

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Work with Hugh. Twit­ter. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Essen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

October 12, 2009

“continuity”

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Back in July, I inter­vie­wed Hazel 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…

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Work with Hugh. Twit­ter. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Essen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

gapingvoid gallery gets a facelift

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The gaping­void Gallery has a new look. Go see…

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Work with Hugh. Twit­ter. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Essen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

October 9, 2009

party aftermath…


[The You­Tube video, cour­tesy of Sandi Bachom.]

[GREAT Flickr sli­deshow cour­tesy of David Par­met].

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[Seth and I sig­ning some Pur­ple Cow prints, with Desert­Manhat­tan in the back­ground. Photo cour­tesy of Ceci­lia.]

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[Peo­ple having fun etc.]

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[David Par­met: “When I saw this print last night, I knew I had to have it. And I knew exactly who it was for.”]

After weeks of pre­pa­ra­tion, some of it quite nerve-racking, the Pur­ple Cow print party is finally over.

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…

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Work with Hugh. Twit­ter. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Essen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

October 7, 2009

the “commitment” cartoon, 1998

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“Com­mit­ment” [First published here.]

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

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Work with Hugh. Twit­ter. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Essen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

greetings from new york

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[Bill San­ders over at Real Bran­ding in San Fran­cisco just sent me this photo of his “Create or Die” print, han­ging in his office, right next to his Ansel Adams photo. Thanks, Bill! #cube­gre­na­des]

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…

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Work with Hugh. Twit­ter. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Essen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

October 4, 2009

today i spent most of the morning working on “gapingvoid’s big monster pimping page”…

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Yeah, well, a man’s got a living to make…

P.S. I drew the above car­toon in 1998. Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose etc.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Work with Hugh. Twit­ter. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Essen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

“bleed and feed”: hey, it works for me.

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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.

Yeah, I guess this is a varia­tion on The Sex & Cash Theory. It’s all good.

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.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Work with Hugh. Twit­ter. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Essen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

October 3, 2009

the red zone and the gray zone

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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.

Art Class over for today, Kid­dies! Rock on.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Work with Hugh. Twit­ter. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Essen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

“art for the real world”

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[“Port­fo­lio Num­ber One”, han­ging in a collector’s office in Germany.]

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 don’t think any of this is roc­ket science…

[Update:] John lea­ves a good com­ment below:

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.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Work with Hugh. Twit­ter. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Essen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

October 1, 2009

“a good customer base is the best marketing department there is”

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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.]

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Work with Hugh. Twit­ter. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Essen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

September 30, 2009

[pre-publication print offer:] love matters. people matter. everything else is secondary. amen to that.

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[$50 Pay­Pal Depo­sit But­ton etc.]

The “A Story [Blue]” print is now avai­la­ble as a pre-publication offer: $245.00

This print is dif­fe­rent than the ones I’ve done to date. It has a sort of Abstract-Expressionist feel to it, as I felt that was more in kee­ping with the sen­ti­ment. It’s a beau­ti­ful thought, one of my favo­ri­tes. “A story without Love is not worth telling.” Like Saint Paul wrote to The Corinthians, “Without Love, I am nothing.” The best sto­ries are about things we care about, told to the peo­ple we care about. This is true whether we’re tal­king fic­tion, fact, peo­ple, ideas or yes, the story about the busi­ness you’re trying to get off the ground.
Love mat­ters. Peo­ple mat­ter. Everything else is secon­dary. Amen to that.

With many peo­ple saying that small is beau­ti­ful, we will be edi­tio­ning this in a slightly sma­ller for­mat. Still a hand-pulled seri­graph, by Mas­ter Print­ma­ker, Jamie, prin­ted on heavy French Rives Arche Paper. Hand-signed and num­be­red by me. We won’t know the actual size until we proof the image, but I’d esti­mate it will be 18“x24” or so.

The print will be pos­ted on the gallery page soon enough, selling at $450.00, but for now, it’s only avai­la­ble here exc­lu­si­vely on my blog for the spe­cial pre-order price of $275.00.

Just click on the $50 Pay­Pal Depo­sit but­ton above to secure your order. We’ll invoice you for the rest once they’re prin­ted and ready to ship, which should be late October.

We’re now also offe­ring a lovely fra­ming deal, where we frame it pro­perly for you for an extra $125, so you can hang it right out of the box. We’ll post the details on the gallery once the print is up on there, and also e-mail you the details along with the invoice etc.

Any­way, I hope you like it. As always, I love recei­ving the pic­tu­res of the han­ging art in people’s homes and offi­ces, so please keep them coming, Thanks!

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Work with Hugh. Twit­ter. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Essen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

September 29, 2009

random book sighting in japan

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I was quite amu­sed by this, in a weird kinda way.

A few days ago, some groovy cat in Japan spot­ted my book in a bookshop in some town I’d never heard of before.

And he went and took this pic­ture of Page Sixty Four. Why Page Sixty Four? I have no idea. I guess that’s what intri­gued me.

[I saved the photo right then, I went back to try to find the link a few days later but couldn’t find it, sorry…]

Some ran­dom dude in a Japa­nese books­tore. Some ran­dom car­too­nist in West Texas, with an equally ran­dom book ser­ving as a social object in a now hyper-connected world.

I told a fellow author the other day, “If your book isn’t a social object, your book isn’t selling. End of story.”

He scratched his head for a minute, so then I filled him in all about “Baked-In Socia­lity.” He got it, then.

And the Inter­net makes all this far more appa­rent than it ever was before, of course.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Work with Hugh. Twit­ter. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Essen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

September 28, 2009

“and if only one percent of those people…”

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I got this story from Derek Sivers, about a musi­cian who bought a quarter-page ad in a big maga­zine. The maga­zine had a cir­cu­la­tion of a million readers:

The musi­cian had pres­sed up 10,000 copies of his CD in anti­ci­pa­tion of 10,000 orders that were sure to come through that week.

He kept saying, “If only one per­cent of the peo­ple rea­ding this maga­zine buy my CD… that’ll be 10,000 copies!  And that’s only one percent!”

He bought 10,000 pad­ded mai­lers and mai­ling labels. He con­ver­ted his garage into a big mai­ling center.

He kept saying, “Maybe we can get like 10 per­cent! That’s 100,000! But worst case sce­na­rio, if only 1 per­cent… that’s still awesome!”

The maga­zine issue came out, and… Nothing. He bought an issue. There was his ad. But the orders were not coming in! Was something wrong? No. He tes­ted it. Everything was working.

Over the next few weeks he recei­ved four orders. Total CDs sold: FOUR.

My friend telling the story ends it with the best line:

“He for­got there was a num­ber lower than one percent.”

Heh. If one per­cent of the peo­ple who read my blog bought my prints, I’d be richer than the Andy Warhol Foun­da­tion by now…

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Work with Hugh. Twit­ter. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Essen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

September 27, 2009

we should be dead: what’s your commitment level?

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[Untit­led. Ink on card­board, business-card size etc.]

Alpine, Texas.

I’m always on the loo­kout for new things that ins­pire me; it’s part of my job. Here’s one to add to the list:

It was last March or so, just after I had got­ten back home from SXSW Inte­rac­tive ’09 in Austin.

I was drin­king a beer at The Rail­road Blues, like I often do. Ins­tead of the usual Blues, Country and “Ame­ri­can Roots” bands they were used to having, the band pla­ying that night was a young Indie/Powerpop/Alternative group from Lime­rick, Ire­land, called “We Should Be Dead”. Female lead sin­ger, female lead gui­tar, male drum­mer and bass. Ave­rage age, I’d say, was around 24.

Now, Cel­tic Indie/Powerpop/Alternative is not exactly the kind of music I’m into (Ima­gine “The Cran­be­rries meet The Go-Go’s” etc). But man, I was so impres­sed with these kids. They sang and pla­yed their hearts out. Not to men­tion, there were a lot of cow­boys and shit­kic­kers in the crowd that eve­ning– not a crowd you want to piss off. Ever­yone– inc­lu­ding the cow­boys and shit­kic­kers– were impres­sed by how gutsy and fear­less these kids were.

The lead sin­ger, a tiny, skinny girl around five-foot-two, would get off the stage in the middle of a num­ber and walk around the crowd, sin­ging into her mike, with these broad-shouldered cow­boys, wea­ring hand­le­bar mus­taches, ten gallon hats and boots, TOWERING above her. Like I said, fear­less. So even if the music was a bit alien to what peo­ple were nor­mally used to, they still got a lot of peo­ple whoo­pin’ and a’hollerin’ that night. It was a great show. Months later and peo­ple are still tal­king about it.

I got tal­king to their mana­ger– a stocky, Irish dude in his for­ties. It turns out, though they were now on tour, they hadn’t plan­ned it that way. They had only come over for SXSW ori­gi­nally, and were plan­ning to return to Ire­land right after.

Then somehow while in Aus­tin, the mana­ger made some con­nec­tions, and the next thing you know, the band were hea­ded West to Cali­for­nia, ready and willing to play in every dive bar and dance hall along the way that would let them. Hiring a van, thro­wing their ins­tru­ments and ampli­fiers in the back, living on a few bucks a day plus gas money, slee­ping rough if they had to.

And they were going to keep on doing it, till they had spent their last nic­kel, till they had bur­ned their last drop of gas. Only then, and not before,  would they fly back home.

Sure, they could have gone back to Ire­land ins­tead, and con­ti­nue being a fix­ture around the local pub n’ club cir­cuit. No, they wan­ted to bust out of that rou­tine– and here was their chance. Not a huge chance, but a chance nonethe­less. And they were going for it, no ques­tions asked. Like the equally tiny-skinny lead gui­ta­rist told me in her cute little Lime­rick accent, “We don’t want to go home. We want to keep doing this forever.”

Would you be willing to put in that kind of effort and com­mit­ment, to make your busi­ness a suc­cess? How willing to “sleep rough” are you? Are you that brave? Am I?

God Bless ‘em…

[UPDATE: You can follow the kids over on Twit­ter at @weshouldbedead. Looks like they’re now based in L.A. Looks like their EVIL PLAN wor­ked! Rock on…]

[BONUS LINK: Video Diary– We Should Be Dead in L.A.]

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Work with Hugh. Twit­ter. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Essen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

September 26, 2009

the person i was born to be

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When I lived in Chi­cago back in the early 1990s, I had a friend who owned an art gallery, David Leo­nar­dis.

One of the top peo­ple Dave repre­sen­ted was the hill­billy folk artist, The Reve­rend Howard Fins­ter, best known for for his Tal­king Heads’ “Little Crea­tu­res” album cover.

Dave would always be telling me sto­ries about this lovely per­son– this rather eccen­tric, crazy-ass artist, living out in the boon­docks, who’d he go visit once or twice a year.

“This rather eccen­tric, crazy-ass artist, living out in the boon­docks,” I remem­ber telling myself, “I want that guy’s job one day.”

I admit it was a weird thing for a twenty-something adver­ti­sing guy to be aspi­ring to, but I genui­nely felt that this was where I wan­ted to be hea­ded in the long run. I never really told any­body about it (until now, even). I just kept it to myself:  a strange dream which back then, I firmly belie­ved would never happen.

Fast for­ward over 15 years later, and I’m star­ting to feel that I was wrong, that the dream is finally star­ting to come true. I’ve been in Alpine, Texas for just under two years, and I think I’m here to stay. My big-city days are well and truly over. Every day, I can feel myself beco­ming more and more like Howard.

I believe the next phase of my life has begun. I believe after many deca­des of being dis­trac­ted by social con­ven­tion, I’m finally beco­ming the per­son I was born to be.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Pri­vate Com­mis­sions. Cube Gre­na­des.]

September 24, 2009

why i chose a restaurant over an art gallery for the print-signing party

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[Me hol­ding up one of the Pur­ple Cows, right after they were prin­ted. An exci­ting day for all con­cer­ned, indeed…]

[UPDATE: The 6-9pm sig­ning party is now fully boo­ked. Sorry about that. Howe­ver, if you want to RSVP via email at gapingvoidvip@gmail.com, we can put you on the wai­ting list, or just RSVP for the 9pm-12pm after-party: it’ll still be fun, and  we still have plenty of room left for that. Thanks!][UPDATE: Space is run­ning pretty tight on the 9pm after-party as well, so please RSVP ASAP, Thanks!]

When we were loo­king around for venues to host The Pur­ple Cow print-signing party, the obvious thing to do was to talk to some New York art galle­ries about hiring their venue for the eve­ning. And so we did.

These con­ver­sa­tions, howe­ver, soon got old. It wasn’t that we didn’t have the bud­get– we did– and it wasn’t that they weren’t nice enough peo­ple– they were– it was just this nag­ging fee­ling I was getting.

The fact is, I’ve been to maybe hun­dreds of art ope­nings over the years. And my main take out from that? Peo­ple don’t like them. Peo­ple are never at their best at them. Everybody’s inva­riably han­ging around, loo­king awk­ward, loo­king down at their feet, trying hard not to say anything stupid.

I never liked that socially oppres­sive aspect of art gallery ope­nings, and I never assu­med I was so spe­cial, that this exact same phe­no­me­non wouldn’t be hap­pe­ning here again.

So I said, to hell with it. I don’t want peo­ple loo­king down at their feet. Not at my show. I had such a good time at my last New York twee­tup, so let’s just use that venue ins­tead. The ilili Bar, just north of Union Square. Easy.

Besi­des, as any long-time gaping­void rea­der knows, my art career got its start in New York bars. So there’s something “full-circle” about this…

Sure, the Art Mafia will pro­bably whine like school­girls about my deci­sion [When are they NOT whi­ning like school­girls?]. Screw ‘em.

[P.S. For those mis­sing out on the party, the Pur­ple Cow print is for sale over here at the gaping­void Gallery etc.]

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Work with Hugh. Twit­ter. Car­toon Archive. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Essen­tial Rea­ding:Everything You Always Wan­ted To Know About ‘Cube Gre­na­des’ But Were Afraid To Ask.”]

the crazy, unrelenting, over-extended existence

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Yes­ter­day eve­ning I published the “Shit Creek” post, about my latest “Cube Gre­nade” car­toon commission.

This mor­ning I awoke to find my inbox FLOODED with other, new com­mis­sion requests. Wow. I guess peo­ple liked what they saw.

Looks like things are going to be busy around here… No, wait, things are ALREADY busy around here. Whatever.

I like the com­mis­sio­ned work. It means I don’t have to drive 200 miles to El Paso air­port and hop on a flight to Chi­cago. It means I don’t have to spend thou­sands of dollars on a silksc­reen job. It means I don’t have to mess around with a Power­Point deck, or proo­fread a book manuscript.

Just me, a few pens, some paper, a Tablet PC, an inter­net con­nec­tion, a pot of strong cof­fee, and I’m in business.

Of course, if com­mis­sions were all I was doing, day in, day out, I’d be bored shit­less within a month. The fact is, I like the flights to Chi­cago; I like the silksc­reen jobs, the proo­frea­ding and the Power­Point decks. I like the con­fe­ren­ces and the spea­king gigs. I like to keep mixing it up, even if yeah, it does exhaust me sometimes.

The pro­blem with being an artist isn’t the art. It’s the crazy, unre­len­ting, over-extended exis­tence that comes with it.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Pri­vate Com­mis­sions. Cube Gre­na­des.]

shit creek consulting

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The groovy cats over at Shit Creek Con­sul­ting com­mis­sio­ned me to design them their own “Cube Gre­na­de”. After loo­king at the half-dozen or so ideas I pre­sen­ted to them, they chose the one above. I believe they’re loo­king to use it for their busi­ness cards, for example.

Shit Creek are a Mic­ro­soft Gold Part­ner. It seems a big part of their busi­ness is coming in and clea­ning up the mess left behind by the large tech con­sul­tan­cies [I’m not naming any names]. So that’s the idea I ran with.

The name of their com­pany implies they have a lot of atti­tude. They wan­ted a car­toon that con­ve­yed this. Easy. It was a fan­tas­tic com­mis­sion and I’m very happy with the car­toon they chose.

I’m loo­king to take on more of these kinds of com­mis­sion. Feel free to e-mail me if you think you could use my work, Thanks.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Pri­vate Com­mis­sions. Cube Gre­na­des.]

September 23, 2009

gapingvoid lands second book deal…

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[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Pri­vate Com­mis­sions. Cube Gre­na­des.]

The rumors are true. I’ve lan­ded a second book deal. You can go see the details here. Same publisher and edi­to­rial team as my first book, IGNORE EVERYBODY. The title of the second book will be called, you gues­sed it, “EVIL PLANS”.

EVIL PLANS had an inte­res­ting gene­sis. I was just too­ling around with some ideas on the blog, which all ended up being collec­ti­vely piled onto the EVIL PLANS page, just like what hap­pe­ned with the ori­gi­nal web ver­sion of IGNORE EVERYBODY. Some­body at my publisher’s saw the blog page, got really exci­ted by it, prin­ted it out, and went to show every­body else on the Edi­to­rial team. Next thing you know, my agent gets a phone call from them.

Up until that point, I hadn’t sub­mit­ted any book ideas to anyone– not even my agent– mainly because I didn’t really think I had any to sub­mit. This was only a month or so after IGNORE EVERYBODY had come out in June 2009, and I was plan­ning on giving myself at least another six to twelve months before giving another book idea much thought. Events pro­ved otherwise.

I remem­ber when IGNORE EVERYBODY was just taking shape as a book idea, and me thin­king, “Wow, I think I can do this.” It was an exci­ting fee­ling. I’m glad it still feels that way.

Thanks to Adrian, Jillian, Will and Mau­reen over at Penguin/Portfolio for giving me a crack at it. Thanks to my agent, Lisa, for nego­tia­ting the deal on my behalf. Rock on.

September 22, 2009

cube grenade in action…

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A blog­ger I know in the UK has been unem­plo­yed since August, 2008. He sent me this pho­to­graph of a Cube Gre­na­de that he keeps in his office.

I was quite touched by that…

life is too short not to have an “evil plan”

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For bet­ter or worse, I believe the following:

It has never been easier to make a great living, doing what you love.

But to make it hap­pen, first you need an “EVIL PLAN”.

But how does one go about fin­ding and exe­cu­ting their own EVIL PLAN? And besi­des, why should any one want to?

I’ll tell you why:

Like the old Scot­tish pro­verb says, “Be happy while you’re living, for you’re a long time dead.”

Life is too short not to have an EVIL PLAN. Life is too short not to do something that mat­ters. Life is too short to sleep­walk through it, hoping, drea­ming, but never quite waking up. Life is too short not to become the per­son you were born to be.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Pri­vate Com­mis­sions. Cube Gre­na­des.]

September 21, 2009

invite for the social event of the year: the purple cow print party, nyny, october 8th

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[Click here to down­load invite etc.]

[UPDATE: The 6-9pm sig­ning party is now fully boo­ked. Sorry about that. Howe­ver, if you want to RSVP via email at gapingvoidvip@gmail.com, we can put you on the wai­ting list, or just RSVP for the 9pm-12pm after-party: it’ll still be fun, and  we still have plenty of room left for that. Thanks!]

Here’s the invi­ta­tion for the Pur­ple Cow Party on Octo­ber 8th. Full details here.

Space is limi­ted, so the first 100 peo­ple who e-mail an RSVP to gapingvoidvip@gmail.com will be allo­wed in 6-9pm [PLEASE NOTE: IT’S A DIFFERENT E-MAIL TO MINE etc.]. There will be more room for peo­ple after 9pm, so if you miss being one of the first 100, come after that.

If you wish to bring a guest please remem­ber to inc­lude their name in your RSVP. Also, if you could spe­cify whether you’re hoping to come before or after 9pm, that would be great, thanks.

The party goes on to mid­night or so. Seth Godin, sadly, won’t be there the whole time. He likes to turn in early.

[CONFIRMED:] The print party will be held at Ilili, 6pm-Late, on 8th October, 2009.

Bet­ween 27th & 28th

236 5th Ave­nue, New York, NY 10001, USA

(212) 683‑2929‎

ililinyc.com

The res­tau­rant will be suppl­ying food, Stormhoek will be suppl­ying wine. Plus there will be a cash bar, if you’d rather have beer or liquor.

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[The Pur­ple Cow Print. Click on image to enlarge etc.]
Seth Godin and I will be there, sig­ning more Pur­ple Cow prints. Plus I’ll have some more of my art on dis­play & for sale.

It’ll be a fun eve­ning. A good oppor­tu­nity for Seth and gaping­void rea­ders to meet & greet, and con­coct EVIL PLANS for world domi­na­tion. I can’t wait! Rock on.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Pri­vate Com­mis­sions. Cube Gre­na­des.]

September 20, 2009

i wonder what the market is for gapingvoid t-shirts…

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[photo cre­dit: Steve Woolf.]

[From Sep­tem­ber, 2007:]

I’ve made a lot of t-shirts in my life. The one for blip.tv is without ques­tion one of my all-time favo­ri­tes. The shirt had an inte­res­ting gene­sis. I met up with blip.tv’s Char­les Hope for lunch the last time I was in New York. While we were wai­ting for the cof­fee to arrive, I drew him the car­toon, right there at the table. Within a few weeks Char­les had taken the design and tur­ned it into a t-shirt. The rest is his­tory etc. Hmmmm… Maybe I should be doing more of these.…. [Char­les blog­ged both the lunch and the car­toon here.]

Just thin­king outloud…

AFTERTHOUGHT: I don’t think I’d want to be in the shirt busi­ness per se. That being said, a fun t-shirt now and again for my hard­core blog rea­ders wouldn’t be a bad thing. Again, just thin­king outloud…

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Pri­vate Com­mis­sions. Cube Gre­na­des.]

framed option now available

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RT @roby­van­damme: http://twitpic.com/igf1m — My @gaping­void #dino­saur print has arri­ved. All I need now is a good spot.

Some peo­ple like choo­sing their own fra­mes, some peo­ple like han­ging the print right out of the box. Which is why we’re now offe­ring both options over on the gaping­void Gallery. It’s all good. Rock on.

[Update:] Dan asked me in the com­ments if the fra­med prints are insu­red when they ship. Short Ans­wer: Yes. And the unfra­med ones, as well.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Pri­vate Com­mis­sions. Cube Gre­na­des.]

September 19, 2009

artists are entrepreneurs and marketers, too

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[One of my favo­rite early ones. Lami­na­ted. February 1998, NYNY. Funny, it was drawn on the back of this busi­ness card a cer­tain girl gave me. She and I never saw each other again after that eve­ning, in spite of what trans­pi­red in the back of the taxi.]

In the com­ments of my recent blog post, “Thoughts On Being An Artist”, John T. Unger said something that really struck me:

The thing about wor­king as an artist is that you never rea­lize how much of the work is on top of making the actual art. I was remem­be­ring how when I star­ted out, I would visit the stu­dios of more esta­blished artists and couldn’t begin to grasp how they ran the show. It’s taken years to slowly put each piece in place. Every day there’s new pro­blems to solve, but if you can solve them in a way that sticks— so that from now on that issue is cove­red, even­tually you come up with an effi­cient sys­tem for sup­por­ting the most impor­tant work you do, which is the art.

I guess this is pretty much true with all busi­nes­ses, no? It’s not the thing you make and sell that is the pro­blem, it’s the thou­sands of other things that spring up around it…

I’m star­ting to think that wri­ting about a lot of issues that artists have to deal with, would be inte­res­ting to a lot of other peo­ple, besi­des just other artists.

Artists– suc­cess­ful ones, any­way– have to create stuff out of thin air, then somehow find a way to sell it at a profit.

The Art Purists will be horri­fied to hear this, but yeah, you really do need the mind of entre­pre­neur and a mar­ke­ter to be able to do that.

[Bonus Link:]

“Artists can­not mar­ket” is com­plete crap. Warhol was GREAT at mar­ke­ting. As was Picasso and count­less other “Blue Chips”. Of course, they’d often take the “anti-marketing” stance as a form of mar­ke­ting them­sel­ves. And their patrons lap­ped it up.

The way artists mar­ket them­sel­ves is by having a great story, by having a “Myth”. Telling anec­do­tal sto­ries about Warhol, Pollack, Bas­quiat, Van Gogh is both (A) fun and (B) has a mythi­cal dimen­sion… if they didn’t, they wouldn’t have had movies made about them. The art feeds the myth. The myth feeds the art.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Pri­vate Com­mis­sions. Cube Gre­na­des.]

September 18, 2009

purist

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I sent the above car­toon in high-rez for­mat to every­body who subsc­ri­bes to my CDF News­let­ter. So they can put it on their desk­top, print it out as a “Cube Gre­na­de” etc. etc.

I had this idea of making cer­tain high-rez car­toons “CDF-only”. A way of me saying “Thanks” for their sup­port etc.

I’m not really publishing new high-rez car­toons on the blog these day. For now, you’ll need to sign up to the news­let­ter for that. Though, who knows, I may change my mind back again. It’s all a work in progress…

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Pri­vate Com­mis­sions. Cube Gre­na­des.]

September 16, 2009

london charity auction: “liver good life”

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[UPDATE: Laura tells me that a total of £300,000 GBP was rai­sed that eve­ning. Hurrah! She also told me that my print was finally auc­tio­ned for £1,300 GBP  (approx $2100 USD), and was the most hea­vily bid-on piece of the event! Very cool.]

Laura, who hand­les PR, Mar­ke­ting & Sales for Gaping­void Gallery, is currently in Lon­don, visi­ting family.

Through her efforts, we dona­ted one of my prints, “We Need To Talk” to a lovely cause: “Liver Good Life”. As Laura explai­ned in an email to me:

The“We Need To Talk Talk” print will be auc­tio­ned at Christie’s tonight. This is part of an effort to raise money to build a new research cen­tre at King’s College Hos­pi­tal in Lon­don. Pro­fes­sor Gior­gina Ver­gani is the head of the unit and renow­ned expert in the field of pae­dia­tric liver disease, treat­ment and research. She is an excep­tio­nal woman, she has known me since I was 3 years old.

Jazzy de Lis­ser is seven­teen years old and was born with Hepa­ti­tis C, she is a patient of Pro­fes­sor Vergani’s, she is the foun­der of Liver Good Life, she is hoping to raise money for a new research cen­tre at King’s College Hos­pi­tal. They need £1.8m invest­ment to create this new research cen­tre that will ena­ble King’s Scien­tists to rea­lise their vision of dis­co­ve­ring what trig­gers cer­tain liver disea­ses and organ rejec­tion, and pio­neer new tar­ge­ted treatments.

The com­mit­tee list for this cha­rity is nota­ble —  Sir Elton John, Than­die New­ton, Rachel Weisz, Gior­gio Loca­te­lli, Mario Tes­tino, Trudi Sty­ler, Rob­bie Col­trane just to name a few…

The link for Liver Good Life is http://livergoodlife.com/

You can join them and us in hel­ping Jazzy reach her goal by dona­ting via http://www.justgiving.com/kingsappeal.

[You can down­load the PDF here.]

The cha­rity auc­tion will take place today at Christie’s of Lon­don, the famous auc­tion house. It’s a won­der­ful cause, and I’m deligh­ted that gaping­void can be a part of it. Kudos to Laura for set­ting it up. Thanks, Laura, you’re a rock star!

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Pri­vate Com­mis­sions. Cube Gre­na­des.]

what’s your coping mechanism?

lums0909Lum’s Bar­be­cue, Junc­tion, Texas. This is where I nor­mally stop for lunch when I drive bet­ween Alpine and Aus­tin. Just over halfway.

That smoker’s been there over 3o years, they tell me. And the guy who smo­kes the meat has been there even longer.

One more rea­son to love living out here.

Peo­ple were quite sur­pri­sed when I moved out to Alpine, nearly two years ago. They had got­ten used to me being from New York or London.

But I had always ima­gi­ned ending up somewhere like here even­tually. It was just a case of wai­ting for both the Inter­net and the ol’ art career to reach a cer­tain cri­ti­cal mass. When that day finally arri­ved, the move hap­pe­ned rather quickly.

And it could not have hap­pe­ned at a bet­ter time. In the last few months busi­ness has got­ten a lot more hec­tic. For rea­sons still unc­lear to me, the pri­vate com­mis­sions just star­ted coming in fas­ter and fas­ter. Why now, I won­der? I don’t think I cold have coped with it nearly as well, living in a big city.

As I’m fond of saying, Suc­cess is more com­plex than Fai­lure. This quiet, pared-down, ungla­mo­rous, low-maintenance West Texas life in the high desert seems to be my way of dea­ling with it.

What’s your coping mechanism?

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Pri­vate Com­mis­sions. Cube Gre­na­des.]

September 15, 2009

evil plans & english cut

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[Tho­mas Mahon]

I’m currently wor­king on the English Cut case-study for my upco­ming book, “Evil Plans”.

EnglisCut.com was a blog I star­ted with a Savile Row tai­lor, Tho­mas Mahon, back in January 2005. The enter­prise pro­ved tre­men­dously suc­cess­ful– enough that the story has been retold many times in maga­zi­nes, blogs, bes­tse­lling books and natio­nal media. Three years ago in Lon­don I gave a talk all about it– I thought it was now worth re-publishing the accom­pan­ying blog post I wrote at the time. Enjoy:

[Ori­gi­nally published here, Sep­tem­ber 21, 2006.]

I’m spea­king today at the “Social Net­work Tools & Their Busi­ness Appli­ca­tion” con­fe­rence in Lon­don. The title of my talk is: “Case Study: Using Blogs to Create a Glo­bal Micro-Business”. I’ll be tal­king about English Cut, and how it trans­for­med Tho­mas’ tai­lo­ring busi­ness and edu­ca­ted his cus­to­mers.
The story of how Tho­mas, myself and later, New York PR maven Dave Par­met star­ted wor­king together was won­der­fully re-told in Naked Conversations:

Mac­Leod says he “star­ted filling Mahon’s head with Clue­train and blog­ging stuff,” and slowly Mahon got inte­res­ted. “We star­ted thin­king that if Mahon could talk about tai­lo­ring on a blog about the same way that Seth Godin talks about mar­ke­ting, then the peo­ple who care will see it. Mahon wouldn’t try to sell suits on the blog. Ins­tead, he would show his know­ledge and love of the craft. He would explain the labor, and mate­rials invol­ved and why the cost of each suit was jus­ti­fied.” The idea was that the peo­ple who cared either about suits or how a mas­ter crafts­men crea­tes them would find their way to the site.

My father remar­ked to me the other day, “I bet you had no idea in the begin­ning that the blog would work as well as it did, eh?”
True, I had no idea. But loo­king back, we had a few things going for us.

1. A great pro­duct. Tho­mas is one of the best tai­lors in the world. His suits REALLY ARE that good. If we were just selling com­mo­di­fied drek, I doubt if anyone would’ve paid much atten­tion.
2. A uni­que story. When he star­ted, Tho­mas was the only Savile Row tai­lor wri­ting a blog, and this gave him a uni­que voice in the blo­gosphere. This fue­lled the inte­rest. Had mas­ses of tai­lors already been blog­ging, it would’ve been much har­der for his own uni­que “idea-virus” to spread. The first-mover advan­tage rule still applies.
3. Pas­sion & Autho­rity. Tho­mas has both in spa­des. That’s what kept peo­ple coming back. That’s what built up trust. That’s what tur­ned his rea­ders into cus­to­mers. Which is why “Share what you love” is the best advice there is.
4. Con­ti­nuity. He kept at it. He didn’t expect the blog to trans­form his for­tu­nes over­night. As I’m fond of saying, “Blogs don’t write them­sel­ves”. Based on our expe­rience, if you want blogs to trans­form your busi­ness, I’d say give your­self at least a year.
5. Focus. It was always about the suits. It was never about what he had for break­fast, Tech­no­rati rank or frothy gos­sip about other blog­gers.
6. Tho­mas spoke in his own voice. Tho­mas is a straight­for­ward, affa­ble fellow, and the voice on the blog is the same as the voice you meet in real life. He never tried to mis­re­pre­sent him­self on his blog, nor try to create some over-glamorized image of his pro­fes­sion. He just told it like it is. And peo­ple res­pon­ded well to that. As he once put it, “We’re so lucky we don’t have to create the brand out of thin air. We just tell the truth and the brand builds itself.”
7. Sove­reignty. The only peo­ple we had to please were the two of us. No bos­ses or outside inves­tors to keep happy. Bos­ses and inves­tors like gua­ran­tees, but there aren’t any.
8. We were both broke when we star­ted. Had we had mas­ses of money at the begin­ning, we would have had a lot more options on how to get the word out. In all like­lihood, these options would have been a lot more expen­sive and not nearly as effec­tive. Some­ti­mes lack of capi­tal is a defi­nite advantage.

A blog is a great way to build one’s own per­so­nal “glo­bal mic­ro­brand”. As the Job-For-Life no lon­ger exists, as the value of the social “posi­tion” ero­des and the value of the “pro­ject” takes its place, per­so­nal brand deve­lop­ment beco­mes far more impor­tant to one’s career. Blogs are a good place to start.
Hey, if a Savile Row tai­lor can do it, what’s your excuse?

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Pri­vate Com­mis­sions. Cube Gre­na­des.]

September 14, 2009

can art have “users”? [revisited]

Quality0909A

One of my collec­tors, Tom LaPi­lle just emai­led me this– a photo of his “Qua­lity” cube gre­nade, now safely han­ging on his office wall.

Like I said back in April, it’s what the art DOES that’s inte­res­ting to me, more than what it IS per se.

We’ve always seen the Kine­tic Qua­lity wor­king in mar­ke­ting, wor­king with brands. “By buying Brand X, I feel hip­per, coo­ler, sexier, more secure, more in con­trol” etc etc. But what I’m fin­ding out is, this also works with art. To me, the inte­res­ting thing about art is not the usual “Heroic, absinthe-soaked, vision quest lone indi­vi­dual archety­pal artist crap”, but how the art is USED by the per­son who has it han­ging on the wall. What’s it actually there for? Deco­ra­tion? Sho­wing off? A con­ver­sa­tion star­ter? An ice brea­ker? A way of telling a story? Something to brigh­ten up the room? A sym­bol of social sta­tus? An expres­sion of indi­vi­dual world­view? An expres­sion of emo­tion? A totem to remind one­self of something ins­pi­ra­tio­nal and/or impor­tant? Perhaps a bit of all these?

So I’m seeing two worlds collide here: The inter­nal, soli­tary part of making the art, and the exter­nal social part of how the piece of art is actually used. Art? Used? Is art actually allo­wed to be “used”? Would the Art Police allow that? Ins­tead of calling them “Patrons”, can we call art buyers “Users” ins­tead? Would you be offen­ded if I called you that? There’s no wrong answer…

Any­way, as always, I love it when y’all send in pho­tos. Keep ‘em coming, Thanks! Rock on.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Pri­vate Com­mis­sions. Cube Gre­na­des.]

September 13, 2009

nobody cares. get over it.

nobodycares0909The “Nobody Cares” print, part of the Port­fo­lio # 2 series, is now for sale indi­vi­dually over on the gaping­void gallery site. Price: $100.00, sig­ned and num­be­red. Rock on.

Pro­bably the har­dest thing for a young adult to learn is JUST HOW LITTLE the rest of the world cares about you. We’ve all been there, right? Took us fore­ver to learn the hard way, right?

Hell, it’s still hard, even after you get older.

It’s REALLY hard for mar­ke­ters, for some rea­son. So many of them waf­fle on end­lessly on, like we’re actually paying atten­tion. Or something.

But of course, once you’re able to Inter­na­lize “Nobody Cares”, it’s very liberating.

Both as an adult, and as a mar­ke­ter. Exactly.

[Backs­tory: About Hugh. E-mail Hugh. Twit­ter. News­let­ter. Book. Inter­view One. Inter­view Two. EVIL PLANS. Limi­ted Edi­tion Prints. Pri­vate Com­mis­sions. Cube Gre­na­des.]