If You Can’t Make Something Good, You’d Better Be Able to Make Something Really Awful.
Let’s talk about the good-O-meter a little.
Good Takes Talent.
If good really happens, or at least begins to happen, it’s an occurrence right out of the gates. It’s beautiful, smart, and well on its way to someplace nice once play and refinement have beat it up a little. A talented creative takes skill, intellect, and intuition to concoct the goodness. Knowledge, instinct, and experience can make it look easy, but what’s meticulously executed also requires more than just creativity — it demands the ability to navigate various inputs and imbecilic advice, requiring diplomacy and the talent to sell.
When I look at Cannes winners, nobody needs to tell me that they’re good or at least a group of other talented people think so. Of course “The Greatest” from Apple by Michael Kiwanuka to speak to Apple’s increased accessibility for disabled people hits its mark on virtually every point of good AND does it was produced in-house which is an absolute triumph was most in-house creative groups for companies are relegated generating brochures and local iterations of agency works; stuck in the land of the average.
Bad Takes Ignorance.
Let’s face it: most creative endeavors cannot sink as low as the works of those armed with just enough knowledge to display skill but possess zero instinct or appreciation for what is genuinely good. Sure, there’s a sort of allure to the bad — it’s just not the quirky charm of a cult movie or the rebellious vibe of a mullet; it’s more of a general, unmistakable dumbness.
Imagine the companies that, in job postings, prioritize knowledge of software over the evaluation of actual work. Envision a client more obsessed with a minor detail in a photo than with the ridiculous appearance of their discount model. Since I’ve already used Apple as an example, I’ll call out Microsoft for its genuinely “ham-fisted” creative work (sans Xbox and some other owned brands). Even their core identity has evolved from one poor design choice to another, only changing enough to remain bad, but within its time, with their overall visual tone being of stock photography. It’s in such places that ‘bad’ finds its home. While creatives might have some hurt feelings here, it’s often on the other side of the table where ‘bad’ is nurtured and directed, and it’s they who should take most of the blame.
The Meteoric Mediocre.
Average — there’s usually no real excuse for it. We live in a world of ever-expanding middle ground as AI is at everyone’s fingertips. While good gets better and bad has a chance to move up a spot, the middle ground remains a result of complacency, painful meetings, groupthink, and indecision. Average often comes from amazing people who receive feedback from their clients that leads to worse work than a client should be happy with. It’s the real enemy of creativity; it is forgettable, undistinguished, and more often than not, results from a lack of conviction or innovation. It’s the visual improvements where what was once mundane has found footing with surface wonder. What was once without stopping power, now has some fleeting impact which makes it most dangerous.
While I often am a champion of Coca-Cola‘s’ explorations into AI and their commitment in that area, it is an exclamation point on how the meaning of creativity is being changed so drastically. And in the case of Cokes AI drink: Y3000 that average comes to life in a tactile way in both flavour and design: we’re led to believe that this is a mix of machine learning and humanity, but it comes across as some vector stock art with a 1990s Johnny Mnemonic vibe — it gets an “A” for hype, but a capital A in Average on the creative scale.
But then: BOOM!
Awful at least has real fucking stopping power! In a world where machines discern good from bad and aim to please with calculated responses, a true “car crash” of creative carnage seizes attention, compels a second glance, and ignites conversations, creating a striking contrast in a sea of mediocrity. Awful is the brazen audacity of John Waters’ “Pink Flamingos” and Divine consuming shit; it’s the unabashed boldness of the “Fu King Chinese Buffet” sign and the entire essence of the “Liquid Death” water brand. The Liquid Death “Enema of the State” limited edition kit collectable, especially with Travis Barker, elevates the awful to unprecedented heights. It’s so beautifully horrendous, it entices you to experience a taste. Talent isn’t a prerequisite for awful, but awful can indeed be awfully good.
Real Really Can Work.
In a time where the touchable, relatable, and genuine experience find themselves overshadowed, it is when art and authenticity collide that greatness can be born. The baby coos with the brand voice through the gurgles of creative imagination, and just a little bit of the mess that is reality finds value. It’s the convergence point of artistic vision and genuine representation where the special happens, where we’re drawn in by the appealing and get the message, even feeling good about receiving what we didn’t quite ask for. In its simplest terms, it’s the power of a handwritten note or actual mail, but also the appearance of Etsy as not an outlier, but a real and expected way to shop. It’s again, where Apple brings real people into real ads to address real issues with real advancements — if you get where I’m going with this, it’s that the tactile, tangible, touchable, and relatable make reality the ever scarce growing thing we thirst for.”
So.
In a world swelling with consumption and an unrelenting influx of information, being average is the ultimate foe. It’s the distinctively good, the shockingly awful, or the rare blend of both, that emerge as heroes. In the mirrored dichotomy of the splendid and the horrendous, we unearth value, resonance, and, ultimately, lasting, shareable impact. When embarking on the creative journey, whether as a creator or a client, we must ask ourselves — does my work have the license to excel, or the audacity to shock? If not, it runs the risk of vanishing in an infinite sea of the unseen, unnoticed, and mundane.
In these strange, wonder-filled times, do we have the courage to stand out once again? To challenge norms, push limits, and allow our creations to resonate in the chaotic beauty of the extraordinary and the outrageously terrible. When we design, write, or conceptualize, embracing uniqueness means shedding mediocrity and finding the simple good. Is the brave choice to create something truly outstanding or authentic and, if we fall short, to find the resilience to leave a lasting mark on the world?
