In the late spirit of Valentine’s day, I’ve been thinking about the way we fall in love – at least with products. For me, the most notable example is the iPod. Our star-crossed affair has elevated a humble gadget into an iconographic cultural phenomenon.

I remember reading Wired editorials musing about about the ever-constant companion; the people who actually cried when they were forced to hand their iPods over to be repaired or replaced after a long, hard life. Then there was talk around the mystique of the Shuffle; how it seemed to have a preternatural ability to read your mind or mood.

But why did this small, innocuous metal square become a fixture in our lives? More than a fixture — a trusted friend on the road. There are a lot of tangible reasons: the right time, the right place, the right technology and the level of exacting design we’ve come to expect from Apple. But I suspect one of the most interesting reasons is less technical than the former examples. I’d like to believe that we fell in love with iPod for more psychological reasons.

The scroll wheel was an innovative way of managing songs. It took us away from the hammering and pressing (think stiff, clumsy TV remotes, or MP3 players) interactions of yore. Instead, you spent your time petting the device — like a cat stretched out over your Sunday newspaper.

Further to this, I read an interesting idea in Donald Norman’s book The Design of Every Day Things. In this book Norman details an idea called the “aesthetic-usability” effect, which prompts us to forgive, or ignore, the mistakes and shortcomings of beautiful things. Given the significance of touch to people, I wonder if the gestures and tactile dimensions of the interface create an aura of emotional connection to inanimate things – the same way we forgive a pretty face.

And then there’s a third, more character-driven thought. One of the first things that the iPod did when you plugged it in for the first time was ask you to name it. It took on a personality, plaintively asking for an identity (“Who am I? What’s my name?”) before singing a single note.

In these small gestures, maybe we see a bit of a spirit, a unique personality, behind the polished titanium and in the glowing screens of our musical companions.

There’s a lot to be said for the growing field of user experience, and its rigorous dedication to creating amazing and seamless interactions. Great user experience is also mindful of finding ways to surprise, delight and engage.

The idea of a user experience is commonly seen in our industry as an exclusively “interactive” expertise. In my opinion, the ideas and theories of user experience extend further than just the screen. If, for example, you were to consider your entire brand as a user experience, the rules of engagement begin to shift. It would take on the dimensions of an epic user flow that extends from :30 spot to shelf talker. UX would examine this flow, contrasting it against best practices, ease of use for the intended audience, and innovative ways to streamline and amplify the content. It would also examine the most direct and intuitive ways to link individual elements together into a fulsome experience. Nothing is discrete. Everything is intuitively related.

Considering your brand as your user experience will add deeper consideration, reflection, depth and delight to every interaction and brand touch point.

At the risk of sounding like an advertisement (beyond my obvious day job), there are some trends that are worth noting. In this particular case, the trend isn’t arising from manufactured necessity – it’s a design solution to a very real need. In heavily urbanized environments, there are few problems more pressing than greener transportation infrastructure.

We’ve all seen AutoShare and Zipcars around Toronto. The concept is simple: borrow a car near you when you need it. Borrowers eliminate the cost of owning a car, avoid the inconvenience of taking public transit, and save money on cab fares. If you’ve ever used or looked into one of these services, you soon discover the money-saving alternative isn’t as awesome as you thought. On top of the hourly rates, there are monthly membership fees associated with each brand, and the pick-up locations of cars are limited.

Drum roll please. The alternative alternative solution has already been implemented, and the new service has taken off in San Francisco and Boston. Allow me to introduce you to Relay Rides. Members join for free, car owners are able to share their cars, and borrowers can search for available cars in the area. Watch this video for a full description.

Relay Rides really picked up the slack from AutoShare and Zipcars. This service is less about the corporation and more about the people. A friend in San Francisco uses Relay Rides for simple things like grocery shopping. She has had no hiccups using the service, and highly recommends grabbing a Relay Ride instead of an expensive cab or a crowded bus. The benefit to the renter is also great, since they are making money off their parked cars.

There are probably thousands of commuters that drive into Toronto everyday. Relay Rides could really take off because of the benefit to all parties. How long will take for a company to bring a service like Relay Rides to Canada? Do you think it would be popular here?

But perhaps there’s an even more audacious question. In a society that often defers to a “buy more” ethic, should we, as marketers, begin to imagine a second tier “piggybacking” solution for our clients’ goods and services?

Specialization versus generalization is a common theme for discussion in the creative community. The idea of the “jack of all trades” and the honed, perfection-driven “master of the art” are compelling figures. Both are defined in relationship to the quality of goods produced. However, if we look exclusively at craftsmanship, there is a bias built into the idiom “jack of all trades…” — “… master of none.” That said, are they still valid archetypes?

If we were to look to our own industry, we are less and less concerned with the genesis of the talent we pull from. We are increasingly seeing film directors directing ads, designers launching their own products, and ad agencies offering “full service” across multiple media. It seems that there is more going on than just craftsmanship.

Two new elements have taken prominence in the generation of content: collaboration and curiosity.

Creatives can – and are expected to – collaborate more. The scale and depth of projects has necessitated multi-discipline teams working together. Collaboration is especially good at accentuating strengths of individuals, while downplaying weaknesses. For example, a designer who is not strong at motion graphics can collaborate with someone who is, ensuring a strong product that reflects an extra demension of expertise.

The second element is innate curiosity. Even if a creative is focused on specialization in one area, a personal methodology of asking questions, being curious, exploring and researching, can translate into success in many different mediums and ventures. Collaborative curiosity is also educational for both “specialists.” They learn what to look for. They learn how to “talk the talk,” which facilitates future collaboration.

Skills and tools are a shifting terrain, and to an extent pure craftsmanship is a table stake. Being a specialist or a generalist in craft and focus can be a blessing or a curse, depending on who you talk to.

However, the willingness to be curious and collaborative are really the skills we should be paying attention to.

I’m a huge fan (and avid purchaser) of Apple’s Apps. And at about 2.4 billion in sales a year, I’m clearly not alone. Apps are fun, useful, on-demand. There’s something for everyone. What I do find surprising, however, is that for such a massive economy, there is still a cottage feel. Unlike any other “manufacturing” model I know of, there is an incredible social element to the App experience. Not just between users. But between users and the developers.

I recently experienced this particular aspect of the App experience second-hand, when my Community Soul Project band-mate Terry Donnelly downloaded Set List Maker from the App store. I won’t bore you with all its functionality. Suffice it to say, if you’re in a band, you want this app. It’s crazy powerful and eliminates the need for a 10lb binder filled with music charts. Terry lovingly itemized its virtues and then got pretty much everyone in the band using it. After a few weeks of using it, he found some opportunities for improvement.

This is where Terry took consumer generated reviews (content) to the next level. Rather than simply posting his comments on the app store page, he contacted the developer directly with some suggestions. To Terry’s surprise, the developer responded right away. After a few email exchanges, they came up with a plan for the next two updates which included most of Terry’s ideas; including ways for the developer to make additional revenue. Terry gets a better app, the developer makes more money. Everybody wins. This is where user-generated content meets commerce: call it the dawn of “Commertentce”.

I think there is an opportunity for bigger brands to take a page from Arlo Leach (the creator of Set List Maker). Good things come from really listening to your consumers. A great place to start is through social channels (like your Facebook wall) and using platforms like Sysmos. Listen, learn, and by Zeus, please respond. Not every consumer idea is going to be a winner. But the act of sharing ideas inevitably comes from a place of brand love.

When consumer-generated content spurs on new levels of engagement and commerce, the benefits increase exponentially. It requires time, patience, and more than a dose of humility. But it’s definitely worth it, I think.

Have you seen any examples of this sort of idea economy? What are your thoughts?

A couple of weeks ago I was having a drink with a friend who used to work for Braun, the German consumer products company (now owned by Gillette). We started talking bout Dieter Rams, the legendary German industrial designer who served as Braun’s head of design for over 30 years. Rams described his design approach as “Weniger, aber besser” which translates into “Less, but better.” (One can only speculate how many times that line was used by Rams’ protégés at the local Kronberg singles bar). Rams expanded on his philosophy with these The Ten Principles Of Good Design.

Apparently Rams had said, “Apple is one of the few companies designing products according to my principles.”  What’s of more interest is the seldom-quoted, second half of that statement where Rams declared, “Which is not surprising because they’re using MY designs. BOO-YEAH!!!” Okay. I made that last part up. He probably never delivered that sassy line with a thick German accent while holding up two pixelated fingers at a press conference (which was the way that imaginary moment went down in my mind.) But he could very well have been thinking it at the time. One only has to look at the uncanny design similarities over the years to see Apple’s “homage” paid to Rams.

Is it ethical for marketers to copy designs from other companies? Should it be frowned upon? Maybe it’s not a bad thing. I came up with this expression a while back: “A good artist copies. A great artist steals.”

Okay. I actually stole that quote from a Steve Jobs interview.

Who, in turn, stole it from Picasso.

I was lucky enough to see a lecture from Dominique Jakob and Brendan MacFarlane of Jakob+MacFarlane last week.

Their incredible pieces of architecture blend the natural world, history, and extremely intricate, mathematically derived shapes. It got me thinking about the increasing complexity and multifacted approach we take to advertising.

Architecture is consumed with rules, building codes, environmental concerns, engineering, structural and legal considerations. They, like us, are concerned with how to bypass constraints to continue to build groundbreaking work.

Jakob+Mcfarlane shared their answer, one that we’re hearing more and more in the business world: collaboration.

The firm collaborated not just with their usual set of developers, site managers and engineers, but reached as far circus tent engineers (yes, they exist) and aerospace engineering to create their buildings.

We see similar stories coming from places like IDEO. So, readers – what unusual collaborations have you experienced? What were the results?

Luke Sullivan is the highly regarded author of Hey Whipple, Squeeze This: A guide to creating great ads. He opted to self-publish his most recent work, Thirty Rooms to Hide In. Now settled down at his new home in Savannah, he hopes to offer other soon-to-be-authors helpful hints on self-publishing.

Luke is also the Big Orange Slide’s first guest blogger.

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Here are some of the signposts I remember passing along the way to self-publish Thirty Rooms To Hide In. Okay, first go write a book. (I’ll wait here.) Okay, got that done.

Second thing: find a formatter; someone who’ll take your Word document and format it for e-readers. There are two main formats: Kindle requires a “mobi” format and every other reader uses what’s called “ePub.” I used Bookbaby for this formatting service and I loved them. Their service is fantastic.

Being a book lover, I also wanted paper versions available for sale. So I had a friend create an InDesign Document. That’s the format I uploaded to the two suppliers I used. CreateSpace is the paperback partner for Amazon. And Blurb.com was my supplier for both paperback and hard-cover versions. The books these guys make are indistinguishable from what you can get at bookstores. It’s pretty cool.

About 6 months before launch I worked with a super smart digital art director/designer and a developer to make a website to support the book – ThirtyRoomsToHideIn.com. You really gotta have a site. Some people may discover the book first and go searching for more content; some may stumble upon you and go buy the book. On my Thirty Rooms website I stored tons of extra content that couldn’t fit into the book, including a main introductory 3-minute video, kinda like a trailer for the book. All the videos were hosted on YouTube.

All the stuff on YouTube, by the way, was linked to the Amazon page, to my Flickr page, to my regular blog (heywhipple.com) and Facebook. I strung links between everything so that no matter which thread a reader landed on, my whole web shook.

Both Amazon and Facebook have many ways to improve your SEO. You can get this information online or go buy one of the many books out there. I remember liking a book called Plug Your Book: Online Marketing for Authors.

Then there are all the online platforms you can send an email to or where you can just post something. There’s Delicious, StumbleUpon, Librarything.com, Goodreads.com, shelfluv.com as well as all the websites and blogs that cover the same material as your content.

On top of all this, for the first month or so, I’d send out about 4 tweets a day directing folks to either the Thirty Rooms website or its Amazon page.

I didn’t use any traditional media in a paid sense, but I did troll for as much PR as I could. The best results came from a full-page article on the book in my hometown’s newspaper as well an hour-long interview on a Rochester talk-show. I tried to get MPR and NPR, but didn’t land an interview (I’d approach the popular Fox News, of course, but my book is non-fiction so they probably wouldn’t be interested.) And finally, I did things using my connections in the ad biz. The guys at American Copywriter did a podcast for me (thanks guys). Mary Warlick at the One Show also helped. And of course, the guys here at Big Orange Slide. Thanks guys. Every little bit helps.

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Well, there you have it. The Cliff Notes of self-publishing and promo.

Many people claim that Apple is the de-facto standard of innovation in the tech industry. I would argue they are more likely the standard on how to create patents.

Let us take a look at Patent D’889 filed by Apple. You will see how vague their patent is. A rectangle device, a flat surface. Predominant screen on one side. Pretty generic.

What Apple has done is create a patent around the look and feel of any device that makes logical sense for a touch experience.
But the somewhat more intriguing piece is that they did not create the design at all. Basically equates to as simple as how Samsung (the current lawsuit target of Apple) has stated in their court case:

“Attached hereto as Exhibit D is a true and correct copy of a still image taken from Stanley Kubrick’s 1968 film “2001: A Space Odyssey.

In a clip from that film lasting about one minute, two astronauts are eating and at the same time using personal tablet computers. The clip can be downloaded online at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JQ8pQVDyaLo. As with the design claimed by the D’889 Patent, the tablet disclosed in the clip has an overall rectangular shape with a dominant display screen, narrow borders, a predominately flat front surface, a flat back surface (which is evident because the tablets are lying flat on the table’s surface), and a thin form factor.”

Here’s a rough comparison: I try to patent a device for the use of rest. Its design includes one or more devices that allow a vertical extension, and in some cases a device used for back support. In some others, horizontal devices intended for arm support. Bam! I’m now collecting royalties on every chair that gets produced.

Right now Samsung is under temporary suspension of sales in Europe with some of their devices because it might infringe on a patent as vague as this one. A user unlocking a device by dragging an image.

Even as we speak, Apple is claiming that they have created a new interface in iOS 5, which would look new to most people – most people, that is, that don’t use Android or RIM devices. Frankly, it’s a direct copy.
It’s just a shame that Android and RIM did not patent these user experiences. Let’s hope that Apple doesn’t patent them in the interest of preserving its “innovative design.”

If public stonings were to be held for flouting certain unwritten laws of marketing, the high priests would have no hesitation to cast the first stone for the violation of one commandment: thou shall not adulterate the logo. From young and chaste assistant brand managers to venerable Chief Marketing Officers, the logo is treated with a certain religious reverence unequaled in the church of marketing. Thou shall not change its colour. Its shape. Its context. Its orientation. There are literal “bibles” written to ensure the purity of this sacred and hallowed symbol.
But what if a company were to commit blasphemous and unnatural acts with their logo? Surely, they would damned to an eternity of poor performance for their sins. Well, one company has turned their back on this particular religion. For many years, Google has been altering the appearance of their logo, often in a dramatic fashion. They have managed to desecrate it in every way imaginable. Font type and treatment. Colour. Composition. Sometimes to the point where the actual company name is unrecognizable (you’ve probably seen or “played” the cryptic Les Paul Google logo). As of this year, there have been over one thousand logo treatments.

What has been the result of these unholy transgressions? Did the earth open up and swallow Mountain View? Was Google plagued by apocalyptic business results? Not quite. Google remains almost god-like in their omnipresence, not to mention their growth. In fact, a result of their eschewing orthodoxy with playful and surprising logo treatments is that Google seems a little less “evil” and a lot more human and approachable as a brand. Which perhaps shows us, that even with certain sacred marketing conventions, they need not be followed with blind faith. In fact, it even pays to play the role of a heretic every now and then.