Feature

Advertising Alchemy

by Tracy Pomerinke

No longer satisfied with the value of words, advertisers are crafting potent icons and turning graphics into gold.

A different sort of alchemy is being practised today — not in sorcerers’ labs, but in corporate boardrooms. This new alchemy does not apply elemental magic, but market analysis, and its success depends not on the movement of planets, but on a loyal base of consumers.

The new alchemists are modern advertising wizards who have realized that images are more fluid than words, and that if you’re trying to make a profit, icons transform most readily. From the Greek eikon meaning to resemble, an icon is a symbol, image or representation. We have come to think of an icon in terms of computers, where it represents a specific command, such as save, exit, or retrieve. It is also defined as an object of great attention and devotion, and the new alchemists hope to capitalize on this latter definition. When a company stakes its claim on an icon, the symbol is harnessed to make a singular decree: Buy!

What’s so Great About the Graphic?

Not so long ago, advertisers practised a more primitive form of alchemy — beginning with a base of words and attempting a most ambitious transmutation. Today, companies have refined the process, realizing that a potent icon is the key ingredient for creating wealth. They have come to understand that letters and language actually get in the way of making gold. With this new alchemical insight, some of the most lucrative ad campaigns are now textless.

The rise of the graphic in advertising comes at a time when image media, particularly television, are eclipsing the more word-based media such as radio. The brain understands images and words in distinct ways, and so we perceive these media differently. For example, the process of reading or listening to a person speak is sequential — occurring one word at a time — and though these words comprise a series of symbols, each letter-symbol does not represent a physical object. In contrast, a graphic is often an image of something concrete, and thus more closely approximates our visual experience of reality.

An image can elicit a strong emotional response. Looking at a graphic representation of your nation’s flag, for example, is generally more stirring than seeing the words "my nation’s flag." Why? Because your experience of the image is directly related to seeing the actual flag. What is more, an icon is perceived in its entirety, as an integrated, coherent whole. In an age when faster is better, a symbol can be "read" in only a fraction of a second — less than the time needed to read and recognize a brand name or slogan. These qualities are what make graphics so valuable to the new alchemists.

Words Fail Us

Global exporting requires an advertising scheme that will appeal to a broad, multicultural and multilingual consumer base. To meet the challenge, some companies have opted for a quick fix, simply translating English-based ad campaigns into the language of other host nations. But the results have been less than ideal, and advertisers have lost faith in the value of words.

English to Spanish translations have been especially problematic. The name of the Chevy car Nova became a self-defeating title, since Nova in Spanish means "it doesn’t go." When the American Dairy Association expanded its "Got Milk?" campaign to Mexico, the slogan became "Are you lactating?" And the proud slogan for Frank Perdue’s chicken, "It takes a strong man to make a tender chicken," became the rather perverted declaration "It takes an aroused man to make a chicken affectionate." Such are the mutated by-products of a less sophisticated time in the practice of advertising alchemy.

The challenges of translation are a potent reminder that a message, once in motion, is never immutable. Even if you are working in a single language, the potential for misunderstanding always exists. Take, for example, the word flammable. Vocabulary enthusiasts are quick to point out that it is actually the word inflammable that means "likely to inflame or set on fire." It is easy to confuse. By thinking that the prefix in-negates the danger of combustion, you would conclude that inflammable means not flammable. Safety specialists addressed the problem by labelling inflammable articles flammable, but that made flammable and inflammable mean the same thing! Today, you are more likely to just see a fire graphic, a simple icon that is quickly understood. Strunk and White might not approve of that sort of adjective-abandonment, but the symbol has prevented misinterpretation — and saved lives.

But What Does It Mean?

Graphics appear to be the least hazardous option for corporate advertising campaigns as well. Using symbols, multinationals can avoid embarrassing mistranslations or any unwanted politics from ongoing language debates. After all, symbols have the advantage of bearing a more universal message. A smiley face, a red octagonal street sign, a cigarette crossed out with a diagonal line — these visual cues are part of a vast international language that comprise neither letters nor words, yet that are understood by everyone. If only it were that simple.

The meaning of a symbol is not fixed and can change depending on the time and place in which it is used. Swastikas appearing on German flags in the 1940s had a very different meaning than the swastikas found on the foot soles of centuries-old Buddha statues. We rely on context clues — where, when and in what culture — to know what is actually being represented.

Context Is Key

The importance of context became clear to the Gerber company when it expanded the sale of its baby food to Africa. The company opted to keep the North American packaging, which featured a smiling baby face on the label. What Gerber did not realize is that, since most people in Africa do not read English, companies typically put a picture on the package of what is inside. Thus, a baby face on a jar of food had horrifying implications.

Then there are the icons that do not clearly resemble a physical object. If you have been to Times Square in the past few years, you have seen New York City’s most controversial billboard: a Nike ad featuring only a giant red streak on a plain white background.

Why is this simple, wordless sign generating so much talk? Because the red streak is actually a "Swoosh," a mysterious symbol that some have dubbed more ominously the "Swooshtika." Read Mercer Schuchardt in re:generation quarterly claims that there are curious parallels between the marketing strategies of Nike and the propaganda campaign of Nazi Germany. For example, the Greek goddess Nike figured prominently at the 1936 Berlin Olympics, says Schuchardt, and Nike’s cult of athleticism is eerily reminiscent of Aryan ideals of youth and strength. According to the designer of the Nike icon, the company’s goal was to create a powerful symbol — something like the "strong graphics" used by the Germans in the early and middle part of the 20th century.

So just what does the Swoosh mean? Schuchardt calls it "a big, fat, stylised check mark." A symbol of success, achievement and a job well done. He explains that we make a positive psychic and emotional connection with the Swoosh, and that gives us the feeling of approval that everyone craves. The simple, bold Swoosh is also remarkably efficient, says Schuchardt, and it can imprint itself in your mind faster than you can change the channel. As such, he calls the Swoosh "the perfect corporate icon for the post-literate global village."

As leaders in the world of advertising alchemy, Nike execs decided they no longer needed words to communicate the Nike message. Since 1996, the Swoosh has been appearing as a stand-alone icon — without any supporting text — and the company defends its logo, claiming that the Swoosh depicts motion and represents the sound of a basketball hitting nothing but net. Of course, you could argue the only meaning an icon has is what observers attribute to it. So … what do you think of when you see the Swoosh?

The New Brand Experience

For thousands of years, people have used symbols to mark — or brand — the origin of items and designate ownership. The word brand comes from the Anglo-Saxon verb to burn. Cows are branded by burning a symbol into their skin with a hot iron, and the mark attests to lawful claim.

The concept of branding translates to humans most directly through the practice of tattooing. Some people opt to make their bodies living advertisements, with a corporate icon inked right into their skin. Others prefer wearing branded hats, shoes or T-shirts, as this requires less brand commitment. But it is not just on the things we buy. Brands are everywhere — on billboards and buses, in magazines and markets. Even illegal drug dealers are branding Ecstasy tablets with the trademarks of legitimate companies.

One American couple is pursuing a rather unusual twist on branding, by soliciting a corporate sponsor to name their newborn son. The couple initiated an Internet-based auction and started the bidding at $500,000. People were outraged; comics joked that the child could end up with a name like "Rentokil" or "Burger King." Can you imagine when the boy learns to sign his name — and he draws a corporate logo?

What’s in a Name?

Wouldn’t a rose by some other name smell as sweet? Mused Shakespeare. Maybe, say corporate advertisers, but it would not make as much money. The new alchemists know the selling power of a product relies on how you brand it.

Just look at the music world, where public image and marketing can be a deciding factor in success. Numerous bands and solo artists have been initiated into the practice of advertising alchemy. Madonna and Sting, N’SYNC and 2Pac — all singers who have changed their names from a two- or three-word birth title to a single noun or alphanumeric string. But it was Prince who made the ultimate transmutation, first by abbreviating his birth name and then by replacing it altogether with an unpronounceable symbol. When the-artist-formerly-known-by-a-name branded himself with a graphic, controversy over the symbol’s meaning kept people talking — and interested in what he would do next. Those who never listened to a Prince album before started watching for "the symbol’s" latest release.

The symbol he used was a combination of the astronomical signs for Mars and Venus, representing a union of male and female energies (which, by an intriguing coincidence, is central to the ancient practice of alchemy). When Prince adopted the graphic, he claimed he was attempting to free himself from the "negative connotations" that were associated with his alphabetic name. He hoped the symbol would liberate him from "undesirable relationships." Nevertheless, Prince was criticized for what people perceived as a transparent marketing ploy, and he was accused of being driven by greed — forsaking his musical art for the prospects of modern alchemy.

Repeat After Me: The Brand Is Good

In the Dark Ages, alchemy was considered satanic, an evil sort of magic. The Church banned the practice of alchemy, fearing that individuals might produce an unlimited wealth of gold and thereby undermine society.

Modern-day alchemists also face strong opposition — most visibly from the "no logo" movement, which organized rapidly under Naomi Klein’s controversial book of the same name. In what has been called "a bible for anti-globalisation," Klein makes a case against the all-pervasive corporate icons (ironically, No Logo has a web site and its own unique icons, which seem equally liable to the evils of advertising alchemy).

Carefully devised ad campaigns support a climate of unconscious consuming, says Klein. We tend to choose articles bearing some symbol that has been programmed into our memories, and we thereby displace local (and probably higher quality) alternatives. Disney’s Mickey Mouse and McDonald’s arches are brightly coloured trademarks that threaten to make the world grey and homogenous.

Meanwhile, brand defenders say a trademark actually protects consumers, by identifying source and providing an indication of reliability and quality, as well as a viable channel to pursue potential grievances. Corporate advocates assure us that a company’s symbol is a guarantee and works to the benefit of consumers. In fact, a brand does not exploit consumers — it empowers them. Really.

Of course, the advertising alchemist is focused on another value of the trademark. You might not know if, say, Nike brand coffee is any good, but if the jar bears the recognizable Swoosh, advertisers hope you will feel an instant association and familiarity. Familiarity will give way to a sense of trust, and you will confidently toss the Nike brand coffee into your grocery cart. This sort of brand recognition is essential to the new alchemy’s profit-making success.

The Power to Transform

Proper motivation was crucial to the success of alchemists in ancient times. Those people impelled by greed might indeed prosper, but only in a material sense. The true goal of alchemy was to attain enlightenment, and the process of changing base metal into gold was symbolic of a spiritual transformation. Through sincere meditation on the symbols of alchemy, a person would be redeemed and rewarded with a wealth of the spirit.

Jean Dubuis spoke of this higher purpose, calling alchemy "the art of manipulating life and consciousness in matter, to help it evolve, or to solve problems of inner disharmonies." It is doubtful that he meant the sort of inner turmoil one faces in the dilemma of choosing between Coke or Pepsi. So what was he talking about and does it apply to the new alchemy? Might the alchemy practised by advertisers today have the potential to help us evolve or resolve disharmony in a meaningful way?

Marshall McLuhan believed that the greatest conflict we face is that of word and image. With the development of the printing press, McLuhan said that the alphabet displaced the icon and condemned Western civilization to a world of isolation, objectivity, and rationality.

That is exactly the kind of imbalance that occurs when we elevate words over images, says Dr. Leonard Shlain. In his book The Alphabet versus the Goddess: The Conflict Between Word and Image, Shlain asserts that literate societies like ours consistently choose the alphabet over the icon, and in doing so, we create a social hierarchy, put down feminine values and diminish the power of women. But there is hope, he adds. Graphics have the power to resurrect the goddess, and we can create a society with balanced male and female energies by increasing the role of images in our lives. If we take Shlain’s ideas to heart, the new advertising alchemy has the potential to produce much more than just gold.

As the new alchemists cast glyphs and graphics throughout the world, maybe they are unleashing an evolutionary, transformative power. Maybe the increased presence of icons is bringing about a reawakening of yin, in a world of over-valued yang. And perhaps companies, increasingly sensitive to issues of social well-being, are designing these potent symbols to help us evolve to a more holistic and egalitarian way of life.

Then again, maybe they are just trying to sell stuff.

Tracy Pomerinke is a writer in Ramstein, Germany. You can reach her at pomerinke@t-online.de.