Verbophobia & the Dearth of Meaning

post-it 4

Taking into account the huge volume of written communication generated by marketers and spewed out at consumers every year, you might imagine the average brand assumes the average American actually knows the meaning of common, everyday words.

But spend just one week in the advertising industry and you’ll discover how incorrect that assumption is.

Granted, one of the greatest strengths of human language is its flexibility of interpretation. I’d venture to say that’s the secret behind the survival of literature many people still appreciate today, even though it’s hundreds of years old. While we’ll never know precisely what those works meant to their first audiences, they’re rich enough, taken as a whole, that we continue to find meanings of our own, new interpretations in every generation.

Trouble is, that same glorious richness, that same triumph of human evolution, drives the average marketing manager bat-guano crazy. At each turn of phrase, Marketing Anxiety rears up and devours another quavering soul who wants one thing and one thing only:

A perfectly unambiguous statement deflecting any but the most narrow possible interpretation.


It’s a quixotic quest that makes unicorn-hunting sound like a trip to the grocery store. Mythical beasts? Aisle 12, right next to Perfect Birthday Gifts.

But it’s a quest that nevertheless dominates the creation of all marketing communications, regardless of medium. Hence the endless rewrites, the frantic, last-minute hairpin revisions, and the constant struggle to define “clarity,” which, I’m sorry to report, is the hardest word in the English language to nail down.

Why? Because, like it or not, its meaning is culturally determined. Some people believe clarity lies in short sentences. Some people believe it lies in simple words.

OK, hold it. Try to define “simple” and we’ll be here all night.

Yet even if we walk away from an abstract discussion of the topic, the issues to be resolved are no easier to tackle. Take for example, a comment I heard years ago when I wished to refer to songs in a music catalog as “memorable.”

“Can’t say that,” said the tough-minded marketer I was dealing with. “Someone who doesn’t know those songs can’t remember them, so they won’t be memorable.”

And more recently, the phrase, “This research concerns itself with the study of…” also raised an eyebrow. In the mind of my colleague, “concern,” is inherently negative. Forget the context, forget the fact that words, even simple words often have more than one meaning. My colleague was worried that any use of the word “concern” anywhere in the document would be tantamount to saying there was “reason for concern” about the product in question.

“Presto, change-o.”

Now, on one level, if you were to ask me,

“What’s the difference? Isn’t there always another way to say something?”

…I could partially agree with you. Yes, there is always a way to edit, rephrase, restructure, etc. And you’d have to have lived your life in an isolation booth not to realize that, even among people from different regions of the same country, cultural differences have to be taken into account. Regardless of the absolute meaning of your words, your collaborators may be, for various reasons, incapable of interpreting your text the same way you do.
So yes, compromise in these matters is essential.

My concern—look out now—is the limiting impact of mindless fear on the tools available for reaching your audience. Even if you don’t share the dim view that the average American is too illiterate, too impatient, too much of a diva to actually read a text carefully, the chances are you still don’t need to stumble over even the most idiomatic phrases simply because they’re idiomatic.

And I hope I can assume that if you’ve chosen a text-based communication medium, it’s because you believe your audience is literate. Otherwise, why bother?

So if I were to write about a technology product:

Now that you’ve learned the ropes, you’re ready to discover the TabPadFire’s advanced features.

…you wouldn’t wake up screaming, in a cold sweat, out of fear that someone, somewhere, might think your spiffy new smartphone is really a sailboat.

Would you?

Or would you bury your fears in a clumsy attempt at creative evaluation and call that sentence “confusing.”

Rhetoric aside, what matters here are not the acrobatics writers go through to function as Valium for an entire roster of agency clients—a grossly under-compensated aspect of the job description—but the damaging effects of chronic word-phobia on the final result.

Because time and again, as the clock ticks and the dickering mounts, words are saved and the message is lost. Fuss and fuss and fuss some more, but remember this: The longer it takes to finalize the copy, the farther it will be from actually saying anything.


Oh, Those Poppy, Snappy, Smart-mouthed, Rim-shot Headlines

Despite the myriad changes in the advertising world—and the world in general—since the glory days of the early 60s, many creatives still cling to a heroic model of the headline. They yearn for a slam-bam, one-shot, no-nonsense, short-and-sweet, straight-and-to-the-point summation of brand value that’s also provocative, a tad naughty and—of course—cast in the form of a pun.

Now, I have no arbitrary bias against traditional headlines. If a headline works, no one should care what ideo-theoretico-politico bandwagon it jumps on. But to assert that one and only one type of headline is essential to engage your audience is the purest form of nonsense I know.

Just pick your head up from the One Show annual and look around. You’re liable to notice that, aside from a very few universal truths, everybody’s not the same. Even if you could prove that snappy, humorous headlines were the most effective, you’d face a major hurdle: There’s no universal consensus on what’s funny.

It’s hard enough, as many a broadcast TV executive knows, to tap a vein of humor that resonates as well in Camden, NJ as it does in Carmel, CA. Trying to get a rise out of a global audience? Forgetaboutit.

That’s because humor is an outgrowth of a worldview. The ethnic jokes that once dominated stand-up routines in the last century succeeded solely on the basis a shared perspective: Anyone outside the mainstream was considered inherently funny.

Nowadays, even the concept of Mainstream itself has outlived its shelf life as more people recognize how vulnerable the Big Tent is to the winds of change. In light of that, can you seriously assert that only one headline style works?

Formula 10.
And yet it takes very little effort to find advertising and marketing pundits ready to assert they know the Top Ten Ways to grab attention with punchy headlines.

As I see it, the place to start in crafting headlines is the mindset of consumers. Yet, despite today’s insistent rhetoric about “audience engagement,” a copywriter often finds his or her real target is an ideologically-crazed creative director or a box-checking brand manager, whose only business goal is the attainment of plausible deniability.

“Hey, I followed best practice,” says the arrogant fool. “If it didn’t work, you must have targeted the wrong list or screwed up the body copy. But let’s have a breakdown session and figure out where you went wrong so you’ll know for next time.”

And yet, to reach an audience, you must ignore the static and dig out a nugget of truth from your own observations or from the pale wisps of insight that waft in from market research. Brace yourself—you might need to summon the courage to write a headline in plain language, simply because your audience perceives the topic in plain terms.

Needless to say, another factor that ought to enter into the equation is the realization that times change.  The “attitude” humor of the 70s and 80s has long since entered its geriatric phase. If Louis CK can still pull it off, it’s only because he tempers his jibes with a ring of self-deprecating awareness.

Formula zero.
In a related category, in the sense that they’re also the product of mechanical thinking, are headlines cut to fit a familiar template. You know them when you see them:

• Your [life process] is tough. Your [practical function] shouldn’t be
• The [first attribute]-est, [second-attribute]-est [service] just got [first attribute]-er & [second attribute]-er
• Looking for a [positive adjective] [positive noun] without all the [negative noun]?
• The-I-never-thought-[item]-could-[verb phrase]-so-good [same item]
• Why do 4-out-of-5 [practitioner or gender-specific role]s prefer [product or service]?

…and there are many more.

At issue is not templates  themselves, rather that 4-out-of-5 creatives who use them have little regard for the specific people they’re trying to reach. As in, anyone over 40 who has heard these gambits often enough to mistrust them—or anyone under 40 who’s already over you before you can get to the punch line.

That’s because the only way to connect is to look your audience in the eye. Only then do you have a chance to send the most important message of all:

I feel your pain and I’m here to help you relieve it.

If you can do that with a touch of drama or a dash of humor, so be it. Mind you, “pain” can be anything from a medical necessity to the need for a status-enhancing smartphone upgrade. But know that when the metrics come in, success won’t be measured in chuckles or tears, but in how many people empathized with your message, trusted you because of it—and acted on the basis of that trust.


Market Research: Railroading Their Train of Thought

Consider the following imaginary train of thought from an fictionalized character in an, as yet, unpublished novel about the advertising industry. The scene is a candle-lit table at a middle-brow bar in a major city:

The standard line about the value of market research? It’s been repeated so many times that…what’s that saying? Oh yeah, “it attains the status of truth.” And let me tell you, that’s in spite  of the fuzzy logic and waffley “results.” You ask me, any market research finding that can be found to be true can be teased out by common sense without spending thousands of dollars.

On the other hand, any finding that’s later proven wrong? Those guys will blame anything except their own so-called methodology. Trust me, they’ll blame the moderator, the media, the weather or, more often than not the “obvious” flaws in the creative. And this from a bunch of nerds who can’t write a headline to save their lives!

Now, surely, the previous two paragraphs sum up an outrageously distorted POV about the profession of market research, as dished out by a curmudgeonly personality who perhaps exhibits the classic symptoms of Oppositional Defianct Disorder. I’m told the character comes to a bad end in Chapter 27.

And yet, as I listen to the literal way market research data are often interpreted, I can’t help wondering if that same urge to generalize at all costs—just for the sake of achieving a tidy assessment—is the sole provenance of cranky nut cases with an axe to grind about scientific marketing methods. Hang out in the more data-driven agencies and you’ll hear some variation of the follow phrase at least once a week:

“This [headline, message, photo, illustration style] tested very well in research.”

…dripping with the unstated assumption that, of course, the element in question should appear word-for-word or pixel-for-pixel in each and every audience outreach from here on out. That is, of course, until the next round of market research yields a different response.

Definitions gone wild.
The problem with such a literal approach to interpreting market research data? Let’s start with the unexamined premise that information collected in a focus group meets the definition of “data” used by, say chemists, astrophysicists or even the current generation of science-savvy chefs. The data of hard science is numerical, measurable, repeatable.

By contrast, the survey responses and focus group voting we’re pleased to call data in market research is subjective—not only at a fundamental level, but also because we have no basis for knowing whether respondents are sharing their true feelings, or merely spitting out an answer that supports a cherished self-image. Market research methodology, we’re told, works around this issue by asking the same question from different angles and then checking for discrepancies.

Trouble is, people just aren’t so stupid that they can’t see this coming. Nor can we be scientifically certain that a question asked in a different way isn’t, essentially a different question, the answer to which has no relation to any quantifiable norm.

Truth, like fire. Heartwarming, handle with care.
No matter how you slice it, market research data is therefore interpreted for you, before you receive it—once by the participants and once by the researchers.

All the more reason not to treat it literally, but to continue the process of interpretation within the scope of your own discipline. Much as I value learning that consumers value products and services that give them a balance of freedom and control, I would never recommend a headline dominated by the words “Freedom” and “Control”—as I was required to produce early in my career— for two reasons.

First, the words themselves are generic, capable of almost universal application and, as such, brand neutral. Second, doing so ignores an important aspect about human nature: the need to save face. There are, in fact, many things about ourselves we know to be true, many of them are not things we’re ready to acknowledge out in the open. Instead, we need a buffer zone which, in the case of advertising, or PR or, dare I say, guerrilla marketing, means an approach that evokes our self-knowledge rather than slaps us in the face with it.

Contrary to the cowboy marketer’s mandate to put “the point” on stilts and showcase it in the most lurid colors available, my own unscientific research tells me thousands of people are turned off by unrelenting sales pressure. All the more so by unrelenting sales pressure that so obviously seeks to manipulate them by dragging their innermost thoughts into the spotlight.

Rather like the phrase “you know you want to” in a very different context, this kind of literal use of even the most spot-on observational analysis is doomed to failure.


Steering Away from Omnibus Web Sites

One of the strengths of American culture is the large number of associations and foundations devoted to major causes. They serve a vital function and we should be proud of them all. In our digital/mobile era it’s only natural that these organizations would want to increase the scope and extend the reach of their efforts by creating a Web presence.

Particularly in the case of organizations dedicated to health-related causes, however, the results are by-in-large dysfunctional.

That’s not to say that these sites “don’t work.” You can visit any of the following…

American Diabetes Foundation
American Heart Association
American Liver Foundation
American Lung Association
National Kidney Foundation

…and click through to dozens upon dozens of pages of information on a wide variety of topics directly and indirectly related to a particular illness or condition.

And that’s the problem.

What you’ll find is an overwhelming mass of words encased in a labyrinthine site architecture that would test the limits of the NORAD targeting system to find its way around.

The problem begins with the unbridled proliferation of links:


Each site outlined above has between 12-17 navigation points on the home page alone. What’s more, each link leads to a page linking to an average of 4-5 subpages.

Now, I have no doubt that the impetus behind such comprehensive coverage is a desire to provide as much help, information, encouragement and advocacy as possible. The question is whether, in its current format, this encyclopedic approach works against those lofty aims. As I see it, the answer is “Yes.”

At the heart of the problem is the assumption that the aim of every site visitor is to gather as much information as possible right away. People being the variable creatures they are, however, the only thing we can assume is that each visitor has a different goal each and every time—and that no two visitors can be guaranteed to pursue the same path through the site.

Plus, whether I choose to visit www.lung.org because my aunt won’t stop smoking, because I feel a little wheezy or because I wish to make a donation, I have a limited amount of time set aside to find answers. As a result, the first question this site needs to answer is:

“Where do I begin?”

That’s me, a specific user, not an abstract audience model. And, confronted with a home page studded with 17 navigational links, arrayed in an irregular grid that gives equal weight to each, I may find the answer to that question a tad elusive. If I’m like many users, I’ll putter around until I’m exhausted, or—just as I’m running out of time—finally identify the sections of the site that matter to me.

I could try again later but, fact is, all that clutter is guaranteed to discourage repeat visits. Site design like this is analogous to gathering an audience in an auditorium and asking it to listen to 8-10 speakers discuss divergent topics all at the same time. They’re not bloody likely to retain much information.

What’s needed is a reimagined site architecture—whose first goal should be to help users identify the most efficient route to the information they need. Keep in mind that such identification is necessary precisely because of the depth of information cause-related sites rightly seek to convey.

One solution is a self-selection menu enabling users to identify key areas of interest at the outset. After all, a care provider, physician, newly diagnosed patient, or benefactor all need something different from the site. Clicking an identifying link would call up a submenu of related links that would streamline the process by eliminating the need to “stumble through.”

Another solution is the one adopted by Amazon.com. It gives users recommendations based on their initial choices. “People who selected Section X also selected the following Sections.” While these and other post-hypertext strategies require more programming expertise, if your goal is to build an omnibus site for your cause, they offer effective remedies to the dismally flat, dehumanizing clutter that dominates the cause-marketing digital landscape.

Of course, there’s nothing stopping you from recognizing the limits of human endurance. In that sense, the best alternative to “Encyclopedia.com” is diversification. Instead of one massive site, you might consider building a network of smaller sites, each limited to a single theme or pair of themes. Users interested in a `medical overview, would go to A.com. Users hoping to be care providers would go to B.com and so on. That way, each user’s experience would be more rewarding, more purposeful and more memorable.

Because no matter how you look at “user engagement,” “advocacy,” or “empowerment,” all the theory in the universe is worthless if users must struggle to get what they need from your site.


Facebook Marketing: Revolution Meh

It has been several years since the first wave of enthusiastic gushing began for Facebook’s integration of advertising into the flow of its service to members. Today, you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting somebody ready to tout its virtues. I’ve been told to expect a revolution in marketing at least once a month since, let’s say 2009, and I figured it’s about time I checked in to see what I’ve been missing.

Because, strangely, nothing seems to have changed.

That is, nothing beyond what the evolution of digital space itself has created since the late 1990s. Exhibit A is a collection of sidebar ads from my own universe as of 6-28-14, which at a single glance belies the hype and reinforces my concerns about current trends in marketing theory. Or rather, current trends in the ideology of marketing theory.

facebook ads

For I’m meant to believe that the mere presence of a tiny data-driven space ad in a consumer’s personal electronic village will make him or her more eager. That must be what brands are counting on because, on the face of it, these ads are as ordinary as any I’ve ever seen. Seriously, I’ve eaten vanilla ice cream with way more energy, character—not to say taste.

But in theoretical terms, what’s absent is meaningful targeting. For example, to the extent that I already have Verizon service, a Verizon ad that doesn’t offer me new value—say, a free upgrade—isn’t truly targeted, because it does nothing for me in real time. The same goes for the appeal from Amazon.com, coming on the heels of the countless e-mails I’ve received after buying a couple of e-books 3 months ago.

Irrelevant relevance.
Besides, what is there about my visit to Facebook that implies I’m thinking about Kindles? I visited my personal electronic village to see if anyone there had a life changing experience or a goofy photo or a goofy photo of a life changing experience.

In that context, the only way to convince me to click through would be to offer something exclusive—exclusive to me, an offer I alone can take advantage of. After all, you’ve walked into my personal electronic village uninvited, crashed the wedding, eaten all the shrimp at the wake, nudged your way next to my best friend’s baby pictures and all you have to offer is “ACT NOW”?

Worse, I’m amazed to see that, despite the huge cottage industry in internet-guru-mentoring services, these are ads that would rest comfortably between the covers of any standard-issue consumer magazine.

“Have a lovely NYC home?”

…reads the headline for a home-swapping service. The creaky, two- to three-step process this lead-in asks of me to grasp its message follows a tired formula dating back at least 60 years. Sure, on November 5th, 1955, question headlines were the bleeding edge of a new wave of  “conversational” copy.

In our time, leading with a question in Facebook is as uninteresting as it would be anywhere else. “Have a lovely NYC home?” Well, mine’s a wreck at the moment, but if your message is that someone might be interested in swapping homes anyway, just to simplify their NYC vacation, that’s another issue. I could probably tidy up the place to show off its “character.” But you’ll never get me there with that question.

Vision unenvisioned.
Hand in glove with the inadequacy of the ads goes the amorphous, inarticulate Facebook design environment, with its white background, tiny thumbnails, and unweighted snippets of text arrayed so there’s no visual cue to distinguish a list from a comment from an ad from a bit of directional copy.

I mean, focus, anyone? I doubt I would have noticed the sidebar ads if I hadn’t been seeking them out and it’s here that the revolution seems especially stalled. For this, brands have only to blame themselves. By mimicking the look and feel of true Facebook entries—in a phony bid for “authenticity”— these ads fail to even call attention to themselves. And that, after all, is their first job: to get noticed.

So, as always, in evaluating “what works,” the true test is not the rationale that brought you to your methodology, but the real-time impact of the conduit you’ve chosen for your branded message. A sad, creaky remnant of campaigns from long ago, no matter where its placed, can’t be transmogrified into a revolutionary recasting of consumer engagement, just by jamming it right up next your customer’s latest cute cat/puppy/baby/car/home/vacation/wedding update. That’s why, as I see it, the only thing Facebook marketing revolves around is the status quo.


Marketing Anxiety & “The Half That’s Wasted”

An occupational hazard of the agency business is its cussed subjectivity. No matter how many theories you expound over how many years, regardless of qualitative or quantitative research and in spite of your best (and worst) efforts to codify success in tidy packets of best practice, the quest for “what works” remains stubbornly elusive.

It’s a state of affairs that leads many a brand to the brink of despair and, from time to time, even major brands succumb to a “try anything” mindset that has engendered some remarkably silly marketing solutions. That the persistence of the phenomenon is entirely in keeping with the lazy, thoughtless way American culture has systematically replaced coherent analysis with soundbyte and meme juggling  should surprise no one. Today, this is  simply the way of the world.

Case in point is the arrival of Yahoo Motion Ads, a gimmicky, one-note graphic treatment Yahoo would like to promote as a major innovation in audience engagement. Here’s how Yahoo triumphantly announced its newest offering on March 17 of this year:

“Today, we are excited to introduce Yahoo Motion Ads, a new ad format that brings images to life, helping brands tell more engaging stories and drive greater awareness with their target audiences.”

Featured on the announcement is a partially animated GIF of a rather membranal-looking slab of a grilled cheese sandwich—out of which steam appears to rise. Leaving aside the sample ad’s poor production values (I’d certainly never eat anything that looked like that), only the full force of a complex delusional system could convince a rational person, or even a hungry person, that such an ad is “engaging.”

In the first place, the partial animation GIF is not an innovative graphic device in 2014. An unscientific survey seems to place its origin as far back as 2009, with many subsequent examples turning up on arty and not-so-arty sites ever since. Random examples include:

• Hongkiat.com

…and there are thousands more.

But this is not to imply that innovation or its lack is in any sense a hallmark of success of failure in consumer engagement. What’s really startling here is the leap a major brand like Kraft is willing to make between a rather humdrum technical gimmick and its signature brand message-of-the-moment. Here’s what the venerable cheese-maker’s brand manager has to say about its partnership with Yahoo:

“Kraft Cheese is proud to partner with Yahoo on the brand new Kraft Singles Motion Ad. We are always looking for opportunities to engage our consumers in unique and innovative ways that deliver our news—Kraft Singles are now made with no artificial preservatives. Yahoo brought forward a great executional idea and we are excited to be the first brand to launch it.”

I promised myself I wouldn’t say “WTF” so I won’t. But I have to confess that, the current session of Congress excepted, I’ve never seen a more thorough-going case of ideological delusion than the assertion that fake steam rising off a fake sandwich can convey Kraft’s commitment to authenticity—as exemplified by its preservative-free products.

Astonishingly, after decades of hawking its wares, Kraft still has so little faith in its own brand value that it chooses to bury a powerful message strategy—involving any number of ways to demonstrate the benefits of preservative-free foods or to become the thought leader in the ongoing debate about the impact of Big Food on American health—under ridiculous claims of marketing innovation.

If there was ever any answer to the conundrum “Half of the money I spend on advertising is wasted; the trouble is I don’t know which half”—this is it. The other half is the money you spent in desperation—when a rage for certainty in an uncertain universe clouded your judgement and made you forget everything you should have learned about motivating consumers to act.


Flat Design & The Way Forward

Over time, in an attempt to keep up with shifting Web design trends, advances in programming have often been adopted under the aegis of a more-is-better philosophy. That is, without regard to the most important issue: How these changes in design parameters affect the site’s ability to communicate effectively with consumers.

As a result, we have seen the proliferation of visual clutter compounded by a desperate, aimless engagement strategy, based on the premise that “something” on the home page ought to grab the attention of any given user.

By contrast, I see in the recent trend toward so-called “flat design” protocols, the potential to make Web design less mechanical and, by corollary, more effective. Furthermore, flat design delivers an effective way to communicate across the multiple access points—just as an increasing number of users take for granted as they glide unselfconsciously between desk- and laptop, tablet, and the device we still quaintly refer to as a “phone.”

If you’re unfamiliar with the concept of flat design, the overview available at Awwwards and Webdesigner Depot will give you all the orientation you need for the moment.

Examples of flat design on view at Design Razzi offer an unscientific sample that nevertheless illustrate its potential to improve digital communication across the board. To be clear, underlying this purely visual point of departure is an equally important shift in communication strategy. That is, toward an effortless rolling out of content that allows the brand’s deep message to speak for itself at a measured pace.

A few examples are enough to illustrate the positive principles at work here.

 Uncluttered, elegant, Munchery.com succeeds due to careful attention to proportion, spacing and line lengths. Additionally, it translates effortlessly to mobile display, enabling the on-the-fly decision making that, as I see it, has emerged as the centerpiece of 21st century popular culture.

 Just as important, the design calls attention to the offerings, not to itself. You get the feeling you’ve arrived at the right place for intriguing dining without any intermediary artifice required to “welcome” you there.

Considering this is also an e-tail site, I see it as a definitive step in the right direction. Here, online shopping continues the brand narrative, driving the deep message all the way home—again without needing an extra layer of promotional metacommunication.

Overriding these accomplishments, see how flat design, by doing away with conventional grid structures, allows language to flow according to its own principles, instead of being treated as merely another design element—and a pesky one at that—whose irregular contours threaten to make a hash of the most carefully planned pixel-width metrics.

The elegant branded experience created by bicycle manufacturer Archie Wilkenson stands out for way it focuses its attention on the product—as opposed to promotional clutter. With text an image set out in a spacious array, features and benefits speak for themselves.

Naturally, in such a niche market context, you might assume simplicity is easier to achieve, because the impetus to include “no money down” sales talk is largely absent. In fact, however, there’s no reason to assume that limited promotional incentives could not be easily integrated into this site. It would simply be done without star bursts, flickering arrows, or jiggly banners.

Finally, a site like Zirtual.com shows how flat design integrates video (scroll down) into a coherent visual flow. Video is available as an option you can access at your own pace—absent coercive promotional lingo, or moronically redundant instructional copy.

Here again, the site makes an easy transition to mobile, even on a 5” screen. especially important in this context, as the services offered target people too busy to deal with everyday life in real time.

And in clear refutation of the claim “people don’t read online,” this site’s response is unmistakable: “they will if the text is actually allowed to flow naturally as language, rather than confined to design-regulated copy blocks.”

Sure, you can adapt the length, style, the tone, the vocabulary the pacing, the rhythm of the text to match any audience model. But if you want consumers to read your content, you must display it in a legible format. As I see it, this aspect of flat design in the broadest sense offers a way forward to a far more effective and memorable Web experience.

From the most practical book-your-hotel functionality to the most elegant niche marketing scenarios, the improvement these protocols make in clarity and speed of communication have arrived just in time to meet the current rapid shift toward mobile computing. More to the point, they succeed by creating the first truly digital visual vocabulary in a way that humanizes digital communication for the first time.

Mark Laporta

Writer, Creative Consultant
New York, NY




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