My SANBS ambient ad

This is an ambient ad I did for a Vega assignment. Im promoting blood donation. The NGO I chose to advertise is SANBS- South African National Blood Service. (please excuse the poor photoshopping skills- I'm a copywriter not a graphic designer) >.<

My Mini Cooper Ambient Ad

This is an ambient ad i created for a past brief. The brand I chose to advertise was Mini Cooper and i had lots of fun (even though photoshop is just pure evil.)

why small is better than big

Why small is better than big

Small is flexible. Big has to ask permission to change.
Small can take big risks. Big has a whole lot more to lose.
When small succeeds, it succeeds big. When big succeeds, it’s status quo.
Small has the freedom to do things different.
Small requires less resources.
Small collaborates easier than big, and more smoothly too.
Oh, and there’s more about this in the Harvard Business Review.So take heart, good people.

03/29/09 by josh kamler

http://www.tinygigantic.com/2009/03/29/why-small-is-better-than-big/ 

How will you consume city's artistic side?

How will you consume city's artistic side?

You remember the first time you smelt it, the high that got your blood penetrating through your veins, the adrenaline that got your heart rate propelling. You remember touching it, the rough uneven surface grazing your nearly raw fingertips while the colour absorbed through the infinite indents found in your human flesh. You remember hearing it, the comforting sound of creativity and originality exiting your soul. You remember seeing it, someone’s past in a simple intricate word laced with speckles of luminosity.

It’s just a scribble they said, nothing but a form of reckless vandalism, nothing but a bored teenager. Or is it? Did you ever stop to think that that inferior scribble could mean the world to somebody? That that scribble might tell a story of a disturbed teenager yearning to be heard but whose words are over shadowed by the more ‘important’ things the city has to say? The city’s walls become a canvas and these scribbles become a story. These scribbles are the start to something beautiful. Just like a child learns to draw through scribbles, these reckless marks that are etched deep into the city’s walls are the beginning of a story, a story that our city is craving to tell you.

He gets out of bed in the death of night ready to face his troubled mind. He runs down the dark alleyways with a spray can in one hand and his soul in the other, as adrenaline slowly begins to take over. His past is numbed by daylight but at night it begins to take over. Graffiti is his only outlet, his only escape, if only society knew that he thinks to himself, if only they understood. He passes scribbled walls, walls that contain pieces of his own heart and past. He passes a park, the park where he himself destroyed a girl’s life, stripping her of her dignity and value, a park where his own daughter was conceived, a daughter who will never know her own father, a father who got caught up in a gang, a gang who killed innocent people. As he sits on a nearby swing he questions where his childhood went, he questions why his mother loved injecting herself with numbing substances more than she loved the spitting image of herself, he questions who is father could be and wonders if he would be proud of his son, he questions if there is any hope left in this world, any hope at all. He grows tired of questioning. He passes the brothel where his mother used to work, he thinks how selfish it was for a mother to let an 8 year old witness such things, he remembers mommy’s boss who used to remove all his clothes and touch him inappropriately when she was ‘busy’, he shivers at the thought. He passes the bottle store where he used to work in his teenage years to support his mother’s addiction; he hated her addiction but loved her too much to let it take her. He passes his school where he wishes he had finished his education, instead of raping girls to be accepted into a gang. His feet grow tired as he reaches a new fresh piece of wall. It reminds him of a crisp new piece of canvas, a perfect space to tell his story, one of pain and suffering. If only he knew how to read and write. He removes the lid and begins to spray. He breathes in allowing the aerosol to fill his lungs, this is his drug, and this feeling is his high. He is in a trance of emotion and pain as the paint reaches the clean white surface; he has no control as his mind takes over. He stops and takes a step back. What remains, is a simple scribble, a scribble he hopes his city understands.

These scribbles that are found around your city represent more than just teenage rebellion but speak words of growth and suffering. Each scribble has a meaning, each scribble represents a past. So, how will you consume it? How will you ingest your city’s scribbled walls?

If we didn’t accept the conventions of design, would our design, still be design?

If we didn’t accept the conventions of design, would our design, still be design?

Allow your design to destroy rationalism by combining the conscious and unconscious realms of human experience to create an almost surreal visual experience.

Your body jolts in absolute terror as the ground below your feet crumbles away beneath you, as your body starts falling at a rapid pace. You wake up gasping for air as if your lungs have been deprived of air for several whole minutes. Your heart rate begins to slow down as your body slowly comes to terms with your consciousness. The reason your body fears your subconscious sleep-like state so much, is because when you sleep you have no control, your subconscious takes over and you lose all control, accepting everything as you become a victim of your own mind.

You feel relieved to know that it was just a dream as you slowly close your eyes, once again slipping into a deep slumber. Your logic slowly begins to dissolve as your subconscious begins to take possession of your body. You find yourself standing on an unfamiliar beach with no recollection of how you got there. The water is a bright fuchsia colour, you don’t question this strange phenomenon, instead you gracefully walk up to the vibrant liquid, embrace it in your cupped hands and drink it. Suddenly it starts to rain. Babies, babies everywhere, babies falling from the sky- how will you look after all these babies you ask yourself as you start to panic, you don’t have enough money to look after all these babies, but that’s okay you have plenty of carrots and who needs money when you have carrots? You pick up a baby and your world starts to turn, suddenly you’re being chased, chased by nuns. You start to shoot them one by one, where did that gun come from? Why are you killing innocent nuns? You can’t stop, it has to be done. You run into a wall, “Ouch”, it says, a talking wall. You turn around to discover your six year old sister giving birth, you happily give her your blessing and continue swimming away from the shark that’s been chasing you, it viciously bites your left arm as you laugh hysterically taking it home to put in your fish tank. You look down at your Victorian ball gown and back up at your crush who you met at a book store three days ago, happily responding with an, “I do”, you’re eighteen years old and married, you’re ecstatic. Just at the height of your happiness you hear the sound your body knows only to well, the sound of reality as your subconscious starts to fade away and your logic begins to take over. Bordering on the verge of consciousness your arm stretches towards your bedside table as your hand grabs your alarm clock, turning it off with speed. Suddenly you’re in control, you have a conscience, you have choices. We live in a world that is governed by rules and conventions. In the world of design no one is an individual, designers feed off a cycle of repeated trends and fads resulting in designs that are no longer unique but expected. In order to see a change in the world of design, designers need to give into the vulnerability of design and let their subconscious reign free, only then will we see a new, interesting juxtaposition of old and new, freedom and individuality. Designers need to let go of their sanity and explore a world of design that hasn’t been tapped into, a world where there is less control and more expression. Design shouldn’t be followed, but challenged. Design shouldn’t be accepted, but questioned. If we didn’t just accept the conventions of design, would our design still be design?

Humanity is cruel

Humanity is cruel.

People are mean. They don’t really give a shit.

They’re all talk no action or all action no talk- never both.

Cut the crap. Speak the truth.

You don’t have to like me,

but you don’t have to hate me either.

No one is real some are just less fake.

You play the game well yet you’re never going to win.

You have a heart you just don’t know how to use it,

you have a brain, you just choose not to use it.

You have a soul- yet it seems to be dormant.

We are all apart of this breathing ball of energy, 

so choose to love more and hate less. Be real

with yourself and others but never,

and i mean never- actually give a shit.

by me.

Swallow your pride and consumer your cities artistic side

You remember the first time you smelt it, the high that got your blood penetrating through your veins, the adrenaline that got your heart rate thrusting. You remember touching it, the rough uneven surface grazing your nearly raw fingertips while the colour absorbed through the infinite indents found in your human flesh. You remember hearing it, the comforting sound of creativity and originality exiting your soul. You remember seeing it, someone’s past in a simple intricate word laced with speckles of luminosity, but how will you consume it? How will you ingest your cities scribbled walls?

Some of the Best radio ads :D

http://adsoftheworld.com/media/radio/telcel_stupidphone
http://adsoftheworld.com/media/radio/kia_rebecca_dawson
http://adsoftheworld.com/media/radio/msv_business_networks_coin
http://adsoftheworld.com/media/radio/msv_business_networks_borders
http://adsoftheworld.com/media/radio/sprite_zero_best_friend

Sometimes i wonder, only sometimes.

Sometimes i wonder what it would be like to lie in the warm summer ocean gazing into infinity, what it would feel like to feel the warm sun on my face as i inhaled the sweet scent of freedom, to be alone with my thoughts away from humanity. I vow to treat my soul with this surreal experience one day. One day when i simply couldn't give a shit about the world.

Some Knarley words :)

Okay so i think i may just make this a weekly thang, after every week I'm going to post some cool words i have discovered, just for shits and giggles :)

1. Pandiculation- stretching and yawning at the same time :)
2. Philtrum- indentation above your lip
3. Groaking- watching someone eat and hoping they'll offer you some
4. Arctophile- a person who collects teddy's
5. Text neck- injury caused from hunching over a cell phone or electronic advice
6. Koutaliaphobia- fear of spoons
7. Phosphenes- the spots you see after rubbing your eyes
8. Jayus- a very badly told joke
9. Tartle- the pause when you're introducing someones name you've forgotten
10. Somniphobia- fear of sleeping

time to get your nerdy sentences oooon :)

Miranda Hart

hahahahahahahahahahaha. okay breathe. I find it exceptionally hard to even look at this incredible woman without laughing. Our first assignment is to create a stand up comedy skit, now this woman right here knows how to make her audience laugh and after watching a few episodes of 'Miranda' I was almost in tears. Hart's use of facial expressions and body gestures remind me of myself and how tall and clumsy I am and I hope to portray similar qualities in my skit. If you haven't watched the Miranda series, please do your life a favor, since you have not liveeeed.

Girls Bathroom

Girls bathrooms

Our first copywriting task was to go up to a group of people and start a conversation regarding a certain topic, in order to help us with creating out stand up comedy assignment. As i approached a group of friends (both male and female) i decided to spontaneously blurt out “every time i visit a female bathroom, i die a little more inside, I’m starting to lose faith in the female species.” this of course started a whole debate of what actually takes place in a girls bathroom. Lets just say the male species knew nothing.

I have created a story which sums up every girls experience when visiting the girls bathroom, whether you are the victim or the guilty one, the story never changes.

A bathroom break is never a bathroom break without a line about 1km long, it just wouldn’t be right to enter the doors without standing in a line of sweaty girls either wanting to pee their pants, chunder their bowels out or simply stare at themselves in the mirror convincing themselves that they really aren’t thaaat drunk. As you stand patiently waiting for your turn to do your business you being to hear some interesting things. Firstly there is ALWAYS that group of girls who think their need to pee is far more important than anyone else’s, as if their bladders are made out of gold, and who try and stumble their way to the front of the line, before some fearless bitch puts them into place using vigorous hand gestures. Then you get the “you’re toooo good for him” crew featuring the sobbing female who has nothing but black smudges all over her face and snot running out of her nose. What i find so interesting about this particular group of girls is that we all know someone or have been the victim in this ‘you’re to good for him crew’ yet in that moment of self pity and feeling like the only thing you’ll ever be able to turn on again is a microwave is that, we still believe the shallow bullshit our friends feed us, instead of just realizing he’s a douch or simply just not that into you…anyway…sidetracked…

As you zone back into reality, you realize the porcelain seats are near as the sweet smell of urine, chunder and cheap perfume enter your nostrils, and in that moment you wonder if you should just turn around and leave, however you feel your bladder harden as your sudden urge to pee increases, and then you enter and you think to yourself, if only males could see this…

upon entry you are greeted by the sweet sounds of cursing, gagging, peeing, whaling, screeching and the absence of normal conversation. As you wait patiently for the next door to open, you pray that whoever exits the stall is sane and merely wanted to pee just like you, instead however, a girl with ripped stocking, greasy hair and a skirt which barely covers her female ‘bits’ stumbles out shouting, “wow i wouldn’t go in there it smells so bad, the chick before me must have pooed or chundered, gross”- what a terrible lie, it was you bitch, just admit it and move on. As you enter the stall, there is a fresh layer of newly produced vomit and a toilet that doesn’t flush. greaaat. As you position your feet around the vomit and position yourself directly over the toilet in the famous squat position, you suddenly curse yourself for not doing more squats at the gym and pray that your legs don’t buckle under the pressure of your well deserved pee. As you reach completion, you think of how many calories you burned squatting and that makes your wait feel more worth while. Whilst exiting to go wash your hands, you notice a girl using toilet spray as deodorant, another girl using the hand towel as a face wipe and vomit remover, a self confident girl hogging the mirror to look at her ass, a group of girls applying make up which in fact makes them look worse than before and lastly that group of IDIOTS who insist on taking group shots in the bathroom-really classy ladies. As you walk outside you see one of your male friends waiting in disgust and utter irritation asking why you took so long to pee, you shudder, laugh and think to yourself,

you’ll never believe me if i told you.