A New Impression of Renoir

The Power of Crowdsourced Evaluations

Pierre-Auguste Renoir (1841 - 1919) was one of the most famous artists of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, and is considered one of the founders of the French Impressionist movement. His paintings form the cornerstones of some of the most prestigious modern-art collections, including those at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, the British National Gallery, and the Louvre.

We might think it safe, then, to assume that a noble and enduring legacy has been sealed for the artist who once said,

“The pain passes, but the beauty remains.”

But...no. Renoir could turn a phrase, but a small, very vocal minority is convinced, and they want us all to know, that Renoir sucked at painting.

And this sentiment isn’t lukewarm; it isn’t mildly griped about over wine and arrays of fine cheeses. Oh no. This has brought people into the streets.

Renoir Sucks At Painting (they’re so angry with the man they’re still slagging him in the present tense) is perhaps the most fervent art-critique movement of our lifetimes. It is the brainchild of citizen-critic Max Geller, who sparked the revolt on Instagram before it morphed  into an IRL picket-line phenomenon.

“Aesthetic terrorism,” is how RSAP partisans refer to the various Renoir collections. Actually, that’s one of their more civil epithets. The somewhat less generous “empty calorie-laden steaming piles” has also been voiced.

As a prolific Impressionist pioneer, Renoir did indeed develop a distinctive, unconventional style. We’ll leave it to others to determine whether that style deserves veneration or Geller-esque vitriol.

What we’ll comment upon, instead, is the supremacy of perceived value. And actually, that qualifier is almost redundant: Value is always perceived. Renoir is a Very Important Artist, whose paintings regularly sell in the eight-figure range, because popular perception has made it so. The same is true for Monet, Manet, and Matisse. And the same principle explains why it feels about right to pay two bucks for a tube of toothpaste, and twenty grand for a new car.

Consumer revolt has a place in this paradigm, as a way of counteracting the tendency for costs to outpace value. Toothpaste vendors would love to hike their per-tube profit, but shoppers will stand for only so much of that. Value disintegrates just as soon as consumers decide that the worth of the product is no longer equal to their dollars spent.

Few of us will ever shell out for a Renoir original, at whatever going rate they might be fetching. But it’s important to understand we still, nonetheless, contribute to Renoir’s valuation. Our patronage at museums, purchases of reproductions, even our opinions and discourses in the public spaces will help determine whether Renoir’s body of work maintains a lofty spot in art hierarchy, or is relegated to the level of flea-market Elvis-on-black-velvet.

Max Geller and his boisterous band of Renoir haters may or may not succeed in pulling poor old Pierre-Auguste from his posthumous pedestal, but they’re determined to make their voices heard. And in doing so, they’re reminding us all that value, or lack thereof, remains a decision we make together.


The C4:
1. Renoir Sucks at Painting. Or does he? This is infinitely subjective but you wouldn’t know it by checking out the collections of the world’s major art museums. Curators seem to have made our choice for us: Renoir rocks.

2. But for every dictum, let there be backlash. Max Geller looked at Renoir, and did not like what he saw. Others agreed. They groused online, then moved outdoors. Anti-Renoir demonstrations raged earlier this year on the steps of museums in Boston and New York.

3. Beyond art and aesthetics, this is about value. Renoir paintings have sold for as much as $78 million. This can only be so because a critical mass of consumers believe Renoir is worth that kind of dough. Should Geller’s fellow-travelers reach a comparable mass, then your average Renoir will be worth its weight in garden mulch.

4. So where do we stand? As always, we honor and respect popular opinion. We salute Max Geller and his folk for their commitment, yet we understand and appreciate Renoir’s importance in art history. That said, he sure did make this kid look funny, didn’t he?

Does This Ring A Bell?

Don't shoot yourself in the foot just before inserting it into the mouth.

 

Brands have stopped talking at us. That alone is a wondrous leap forward in how marketing gets done.

The fact that brands are now talking with us is not so much an intentional branding evolution, as it is the direction that contemporary technology has taken us all. Living in the digital age means instant and nearly unlimited communication. Three billion of us are online now, and each of us has more or less equal access to this ongoing global conversation.

That might spell cacophony, and it often does, but compelling voices sometimes rise above the din. Beautiful people (and beautiful brands) seem to have a natural advantage here–an out sized body of social-media followers that hangs on their every post. But the rest of us—people and brands perhaps a bit less gorgeous—can duly earn notice and global attention, fleeting though it might be.

And there are no occult tricks to this; just be timely, topical, interesting, or witty. If possible, be all the above.

The truly remarkable thing is that these rules-of-thumb are universal – they apply as equally to you and your Twitter-tantrums as they do to the massive cross-platform social-media feeds of the the world’s biggest, brassiest brands.

So how does that play out? There’s literally no limit to the possibilities...but one fascinating trend we’re tracking is the wacky online cross-talk between brands, and some irreverent interactions between brands and consumers.

The brief exchange of Tweeted one-liners between Old Spice and Taco Bell screen-capped above is one of our favorites–they each say their bit, we all laugh, and that's that. The interplay seems a little edgy, a little snarky–but look closer. Doesn't that banter seem more like a bit of verbal horseplay between two old friends?

It surely helps, of course, that the participants here aren’t competitors. We haven’t seen much online interaction between direct rivals, because the results would be predictably ugly. Brand managers rightfully keep a pretty tight rein on social-media messaging, and they know that any posts or exchanges that can be construed as petty or whiny will turn people off. Some small, voyeuristic minority of us might enjoy watching a real-time flame-war between big-brand adversaries, but the rest would disgustedly will a pox on both their houses.

Because fun is fun, and edginess can be entertaining, but at the end of the day it is adult behavior we respect and admire. Big brands, celebs, and even we little folk can log on and quip and banter all day long, and there’s no small chance we can gain some notice in doing so. But doing so in the manner of a petulant child is bound to bring notice we never wanted, and will never be able to erase.

The C4:
1. The ways in which marketing communication has changed in our lifetimes is voluminous (feel free to scroll through a few dozen C4 pages for an ongoing enumeration). But perhaps the most exciting aspect is the phenomenon of reciprocity. Twentieth-century advertising was unidirectional: from the marketer’s megaphone directly into your brain. In the 21st century we have conversations.

2. We’re well into our second decade of this new reality now, and behold the unintended consequences: brands have voices that are instantaneous and under constant observation. Their social-media presences can and do pump out unedited content 24/7. The results can be marvelous, or they can be analogous to shooting one’s foot right before inserting it into one’s mouth.

3. We’ve gone on record advocating for civility and constructive behavior in online discourse. Consider this our corollary: Boorish banter is brand suicide.

4. But highbrow, clever banter? Bring it on. Any conversation is a bit brighter with a few well-wrought quips thrown in. Think you’ve got some of that to add to the planetary chat? Then by all means do so, and reap your due rewards.

S-S-Sellin' To My Generation

Divergent Pitches to Boomers, Xers and Millenials

The more things change...

Generational divides are nothing new. But they’ve never been as problematic for marketers as they are now.


Back when TV was black-and-white and “doctors” pitched cigarettes during Uncle Miltie’s commercial breaks, selling was simple: just follow the money. The money was in the hands of dad and mom, who were resolutely suburban, and invariably aged 30-45. Look back on the ad campaigns of the day, and you’ll see that the vast majority of them were targeted laser-like at this precise demographic.

Oh, but how times have changed. Advertisers must still follow the money, but that money has dispersed beyond all expectation. Three distinct generations–boomers, Xers, and millennials–are holding purse-strings these days, and sellers are making divergent, concerted pitches for all three.

There are of course no limits to the ways of doing that, but it’s interesting to note that one method in particular is being used across that entire spectrum: an appeal to nostalgia.

We’ve told you recently about brands from the baby boomers’ yesteryears being brought back for profitable reprises.

But nostalgia, it seems, has no definable shelf-life, and marketers seem willing to leverage ever more recent memories in hopes of moving product.

If you, for instance, loved the Eighties then MillerCoors is betting you’ll also love its retro Miller Lite packaging, last seen in stores in the late 1970s. For over a year now they’ve been re-dressing their premier low-cal beer in the same cans and bottles they wore when introduced way back in 1972. The beer itself hasn’t changed––Miller Lite is still brewed according to the same recipe used since day one. It’s the packaging alone that has evolved, then devolved, all in the name of nostalgia.

And nostalgia can be even more late-model than that; here’s one for the millennials. Coca-Cola is reintroducing Surge, an iconic ‘90s-era citrus concoction that disappeared a mere 12 years ago. For many of us that’s hardly enough time to have even noticed it was gone.

We may scoff, but in the end the proof of all these gambits will be in the pudding. If consumers are buying, then selling to their nostalgia must be an efficacious idea. But it seems to us there has to be a point of diminishing returns here. If not, then we can only take this strategy to the extreme: Once any product starts to falter, just take it off the shelves for a few weeks, then bring it back to great fanfare and shouts of “You missed us, right?!”

Let nostalgia be true nostalgia, is all we’re saying. Forcing it, especially before its due time, seems desperate and desperately artificial. Consumers might not be seeing it this way...yet. But trust us, if this hand is overplayed consumers will notice and they’ll start equating commercial nostalgia with distasteful manipulation.

And hey, it’s not like there aren’t alternatives. There’s one time-tested method for winning over any buyer of any age: offer them what they want, with quality and value. That’s a selling proposition that a boomer, an Xer, and a millennial can truly get nostalgic over.

The C4:
1. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, there are now 75.4 million baby boomers, 82.1 million generation Xers, and 83.1 million millennials. That’s 240.6 million adult (or young adult) consumers. Marketers are tasked with endeavoring to steer that consumption.

2. But marketing requires a targeted approach, and your approach might vary if your target is 18 versus 80.

3. It is certainly not out of bounds to appeal to nostalgia. Emotion, after all, is an aspect of the buying decision, and nostalgia is emotional. But can it be overused? Maybe so. When we start turning yesterday’s fad into tomorrow’s nostalgia, then definitely so.

4. When in doubt, just remember that each of those 240.6 million consumers are looking for value, and expecting to be treated with dignity and respect. There’s no magic bullet or killer app in honest marketing–there is only the unassailable recognition that the buyer is the boss.

It's Alive! The Case for Resurrected Brands

If you brand it, it will sell.

That’s hyperbole of course, but it’s also the Cliff’s Notes version of modern marketing theory: Find a unique and irresistible offering that you can hang a price tag on, build around it a memorable and endearing story (a brand, by any other name), and let the buying public’s sentiment become your partner in unbridled sales.

Of course, “Cliff’s Notes” is another way of saying “oversimplification,” and all of our treatises unto you, up to and including this one, are other ways of saying “there are no shortcuts in brand-building.”

Except, you know, sometimes there are.

So picture with us a scenario where the brand-building is done for you...maybe even long before you were born. You still offer that unique and irresistible thing; you still deliver quality and exemplify customer service. But the indelible sentiment that makes your brand a familiar friend? That work’s all been done.

It's alive! Brands find power beyond the grave!

Lacking an industry buzzword, we’ll go ahead and coin one: resurrected brands. You’re probably familiar with the concept, maybe without even realizing it. Indian Motorcycles is a fine old American company, famous for manufacturing sought-after motor-scooters between 1901 and 1953. The brand was idle for over half a century, but one quick visit to a vintage-bike swap meet would have told you all you needed to know about its enduring popularity. It was resurrected to great fanfare in 2006, and has been in production ever since. Currently a division of Polaris Industries, Indian has been restored to its well-deserved spot as a premier American sport-bike brand.

And here’s an example closer to home (and close to our heart)—Norka (it’s Akron spelled backwards!) was Summit County’s very own soda brand, a local favorite from the 1920s to the early ‘60s. And now it’s back! A team of plucky Akronites have rescued it from the beverage-brand boneyard, with both original and updated recipes. It’s already on your grocer’s shelves.

There are plenty of other case studies, but you get the point. The point is, there are brands so beloved they can transcend a business’s natural life cycle. Bankruptcy or the passing on of the principals are irrelevant to the brand’s legion of fans. If it’s gone, they pine for it. When it comes back, they flock to it.

What’s even more interesting is what a diverse opportunity this is. You could be motivated by nostalgia, or you might simply be looking for an unexploited angle. Either way, the potential upsides are almost unlimited. The marketplace head-start, in terms of re-releasing a brand that’s already known and appreciated, cannot be overstated.

But of course, this alone isn’t a recipe for success. Creating a brand is just the first step; maintaining it is the never-ending second. Resurrect a brand and you’ve taken on the responsibility for maintaining its perceived value...in perpetuity. Let quality slip, even a little, and your customers will notice, will be offended, and they will be gone.


The C4:
1. Marketing 101: In retail business, you build success by building a brand. Enter the marketplace with a unique product or service, then position it in people’s consciousness with an appealing and memorable personality.

2. DO NOT deviate from Marketing 101! (Unless, ahem, you can.)

3. The rare opportunity might present itself in which you won’t need to build a brand, but only defibrillate one. Nostalgia is a growth industry. Find yourself a dormant (yet available) brand name, one that the people remember fondly, and you just might find yourself a goldmine.

4. But heed the cardinal warning of shortcuts: they never get you all the way home. To resurrect a brand is to assume a legacy. Betray that legacy at your peril. Whatever your business, whatever your brand, your success is dependent on quality and customer service. This is even more true with a resurrected brand, because your customers are comparing you to an idealized memory. Measure up to that, or the brand shall die a second death.

Are We Creating the Clutter that We're Trying Hard to Break Through?

Let's elevate the conversation.

All these advances, the ones bringing our world more closely together, they’ve given us so much. But just as surely, they taketh away.

And perhaps it’s always been that way, particularly with revolutions in how we communicate. The invention of writing, some eight or ten millennia ago, gave us our first non-wetware capability for information transmission. But it also spelled the end of the nearly supernatural feats of memory exhibited by the shamans and storytellers, who’d been keeping and sharing the tribal legacies since the Stone Age. And likewise, with the coming of the printing press, away went the gorgeous handcrafted product of the calligraphers and scriptoria.

The communications revolution we’re living right now is arguably (or maybe barely arguably) the
most profound thus far. Starting with desktop publishing in the nineties, then on to the World Wide Web and the social media explosion as we know them today, we’ve been effectively handed a global, instantaneous platform for spreading information and sharing ideas. Non-local communication is no longer the purview of the elite, but rather the birthright of nearly all of humanity.

And what, pray tell, might that taketh away?

Novelist and copywriter Robert Cormack warned recently of a coarsening of society, of a “vulgarization”, as he called it. He points an accusatory finger at the advertising industry, perhaps not unfairly, calling attention to our command of mass media and asking us to examine our motives and commitment to the higher good.

They’re questions worth asking, to be sure, and we certainly call upon ourselves and our colleagues to let our consciences be our guides.

But given that mass media is now truly massive, and that we’re all content creators, we think it’s wise to cast a wider net, and to plead for communal responsibility, for leadership from the trenches.

Every single one of us can decide, each time we mount our digital soapboxes, whether we’re about to contribute to an elevation of the global conversation, or to its lowest common denominator. We can choose whether the content we create—be it a ten-thousand word blogifesto or a dashed-off tweet—makes people think, or makes them cringe.

This colossal platform of ours invites unexpurgated input, but it also permits anonymity and it winks at uncouthness. This all can, and does, lead to an erosion of the dialogue into something that’d never happen when people meet face to face, when they open their hearts, and when they share their thoughts.

We’d like us all to remember this—that no matter what sort of interface and no matter how great the distance, it’s still a conversation we’re engaging in. We hope we can approach all our conversations, digital and otherwise, with the respect and civility they deserve.

We’re committed to honoring our role as global citizens and communication leaders. And we very much invite you to join us.

The C4:
1. Advertisers have gained a reputation (not entirely undeservedly) for using our media leverage in the pursuit of dishonesty and a dumbing-down of the collective conversation.

2. Reputations can only be rehabilitated by action. It’s up to us to reform from within and to gain back any esteem we might have lost. We’re on it.

3. May we humbly submit, though, that we no longer command (if we ever did) the tenor of the media and the trajectory of societal discourse? The fact is, we’re all creators, and we all share responsibility for the integrity, or lack thereof, of the content we share.

4. We’re not saying cool it with the cat pics (you can haz cheezburger!), and we love a viral vid as much as anyone. We’re just saying that this global conversation is ongoing, and we can choose to make it constructive, or to let it become toxic to us all. We’re aiming for the former. How about you?