Terence D’Costa is a very dear friend and a top-notch creative in the Himalayas.
THE BIG COVER UP
Don’t judge a book by its cover. You were told that. I was told that. The world and his brother was told that. And we all nodded in agreement to get past third grade grammar but went back to doing just that. The problem with this old saying is not the book. It’s the cover. Let’s talk about that cover today. Let’s talk about how we weren’t encouraged to see past the obvious imagery of wisdom-filled books in melancholic covers versus the sham glam of penny press tabloids. Let’s talk about how we’ve unanimously settled for a superficial understanding (i.e. the cover) of the saying (i.e. the book). Let’s talk about us not talking about this before. Better still, let’s figure where this figures in an article on advertising.
The book is the agency head. The cover is his membership at your golf club. The book is the agency. The cover is the decor that swings from eclectic to hushed minimalist. The book is the account director. The cover is his limited edition blackberry resting on a mahogany bookshelf mandatorily populated with impeccably bound brand bibles. The book is the account manager. The cover is the android and the natty suit. The book is the creative director. The cover is his ipad with hypno-surrealist desktop art. The book is the art director. The cover is his mop of dreadlocks. The book is the visualizer. The cover is his tribal tattoo. The book is the copy intern. The cover is her battered copy of Atlas Shrugged. The book is the graphic designer. The cover is his daily ritual of downloading as many ads of the world artworks, free brushes and unprotected illustrations as the agency broadband can allow in one overtime shift.