When John Lennon first performed I am the Walrus to George Martin in 1967 the legendary producer said: “Well, John, to be honest, I have only one question… What the hell do you expect me to do with that?!?” Brilliant as the song is, as many are, it was an answer to a question that hadn’t been asked.

Everybody:

John Lennon: Semolina Pilchard… Climbing up the Eiffel tower!

ChatGPT seems to be answering the questions nobody in our industry has asked but are quickly noting down: Could we save four weeks on this really important task? Do we have to involve a professional or highly skilled team? Would it be a laugh to…

Tech is making good on its promise to make things simpler, including us, by convincing us that experience, insight, advanced meaning-making and craft can be substituted for words by the metre. I’m excited by the potential for AI to solve a host of problems we haven’t been able to ourselves already. The implications for science, health, the climate emergency — almost any sphere of our lives are staggering. What AI can’t do for now (until we reach pervasive machine learning) is decide which problems are worth solving. So we all have to use the grey matter for a little longer (I know… I’d rather be on the beach with a book too) and make some good calls on where to unleash the infinite monkeys ChatGPT promises.

On the Gartner Hype Cycle we are in a near-vertical roller coaster car where anything seems like a good idea for AI and words. That long copy for the rear of pack? Sure. That new tagline? Of course, those few words are the hardest! The text message to your partner to say you’ll be late home again, give it a go — they will understand. But there are some copy jobs and challenges in our field it would be interesting to give ChatGPT a go at.

The Internet is a hungry beast right now so sending our intrepid AI in to generate playful content for social media or websites in the tune of a brand or organisational voice could be interesting. It might not be precise or precisely good but with some forgiveness from people it would be an interesting experiment. After a few years of vanilla chat tools on websites and in service channels I don’t believe it can or should replace a human interaction. How underwhelming the application has been there. People helping people through text-based channels is still best.

Where brands or organisations have license to be playful in creating art or taking part in popular culture an advanced chat AI could also be interesting. If expression is more important than accuracy or nuance there might be a case for pushing the button here.

Where tools like ChatGPT continue to fall down, or may never be as handy as a human, are aspects of copy that rely on grey matter. You can’t program or hope ML will pick up when to use a Rihanna lyric or why being formal is fun when the product category is always loosey-goosey. Your AI can’t tell you why a new copy idea should work, only that it might, along with 1,234,567 other options. Its answer is ‘yes’, or ‘no’, or ‘maybe’ or ‘who cares?’

Nick Cave has been fielding dozens of songs recently from fans who have created songs ‘in the style of’ Nick Cave. To the latest he responded with: ‘this song is shit!’ No doubt there’s some pride and vanity at play and that’s to the heart of the matter. For those who take pride in just the right words, getting it right matters. Not just any Goo goo joob will do.

A brand is not a logo

In a workshop with a new client recently, we started the morning with the not-so-small question ‘What is a brand?’ We had a variety of responses come up — from the abstract “a suit of clothes you put on to present to the world” to a very accurate yet much more formal “it is the external manifestation of the internal values of an organisation.”

The great thing about both of them?
It wasn’t the “… isn’t it just a logo?” I’ve heard so often. Ace.

Over the past few decades branding has changed significantly. It actually dates back further than you might think — brands in their original form were used to show ownership of cattle in the 1500s. It was bare bones but functional: a simple, distinctive and instantly identifiable mark, et finito.

Fast-forward a few centuries, and brands are growing closer to how we perceive them now. The Industrial Revolution brought along registered trademarks, and with that, the first instance of branding as intellectual property in 1881. That gave birth to the reality that companies could officially claim their products and services as their own. And then… the game was on.

From a simple mark of ownership, brands have evolved to represent what we’re about, what we believe in, and what we want to achieve. If that sounds like a lot to put into a mark that has to be recognisable at the size of a stamp and smaller, you’d be right. That’s where other elements come in: how we speak, what we say, colours, patterns, art direction, fonts — you name it, we’ll have discussed it. A brand is no longer just a mark; it incorporates… everything. It’s no wonder people sometimes get confused.

Digging deeper

The most exciting part isn’t usually the reveal of a new brand to a client.* I’m a big fan of the journey. It’s in taking clients — people — from the functional to the meaningful. Our clients tend to come in knowing very well what they sell, make or do, but that’s often where it stops. So what’s the opportunity, the possibility you bring to people? A good brand gives you the freedom to be expressive. The rest is ‘just’ the mechanic. It’s important, of course — but you don’t lead with it.

Think about it: Apple doesn’t sell technology, it sells possibilities. Disney isn’t about movies, but magic. And our government? It isn’t just in the business of laws. It’s in the business of trust… Or tries to be, anyway.

For our recent client Payo, the core is about people connecting, about creating memorable experiences. Shouting ‘we’re a buy-now-pay-later platform for hospitality’ isn’t going to get people that excited — but giving them a way to celebrate anything, from getting fired to getting jabbed or knocked up does. Highlighting the special occasions is expected, but if it’s about creating your occasions? Using food to make new friends? Bingo. Hello, dinner date invitations to mates of mates, upstairs-and-across neighbours, and dog-park-friends.

Finding the core of a brand is the difference between communicating what they do, and what they stand for. It’s how we grow the big ideas our planet needs. It’s what allows a science organisation to say ‘the science isn’t the point, it’s about people up in WA caring about what’s happening down in Antarctica’ — without discounting that their science is top notch. It’s what unearthed the ‘thorn on your side’ for the Sustainable Floristry Network, or even why making a kid’s book was a perfectly reasonable (if unexpected) thing to do for us as an agency.

“Finding the core of a brand is the difference between communicating what they do, and what they stand for.”

Strong foundations

All of this is not to say that the actual logo isn’t important. Or the fonts, the colours, tone of voice or art direction don’t matter. We live for those, and constantly nerd out over whether the x-height of matched typefaces works together or whether rounded terminals might work better — and that’s only scratching the surface. We often lament the use of Comic Sans for official documents, Papyrus for menus, and Lobster for anything not designed in the early 2010s. We go to galleries, performances, gardens and bars for inspiration. We read books, watch movies, watch people. We scribble down random thoughts, save references and put down underlines in books to draw from later.

It’s tempting to jump into the first creative thought, start with some fonts and colours and build a brand from there, but just like most good Italian meals start with a Soffritto, a good brand starts with deep thinking and clear understanding. First, we create a solid foundation. And then… Layer upon layer, we build.

It’s the combination of solid thinking up-front with good design and some clever touches here and there that really allows big ideas to thrive. In our experience, it’s also what allows people to bond. It aligns the team and taps into sources of inspiration. It’s evocative and reminds people why they’re involved in their projects in the first place. And of course, it ensures that you’re communicating the right thing, to the right people. It’s how we can help solve problems, inspire action and drive change. Pretty exciting stuff.

—
* Look, let’s be honest. We also love the reveal. ¿Por qué no los dos?

In the Summer of 2019/20 the air in South-Eastern Australia was so thick with smoke from bushfires we were advised to not go outside by The BOM and others. Sometimes for a week or more.

If you weren’t running for your lives from the flames or counting your dead stock you were inside working from home with the uneasy awareness that home is no shelter from what’s coming.

On the TV our Prime Minister pumped the hands of anyone in fire-ravaged locales who couldn’t sidestep him or mumbled something about the cricket as he stirred a curry.

Fortunately there are people with a spine, ideas about our future and a respect for science. We’ve been inspired by them again in the past year and in better articulating the work we’ll be doing (and not doing) at All or Nothing we’ve ended up with a kids book!

When the going get’s tough… the creatives get out their sharpies?

What A Mess, written by All or Nothing in collaboration with UK illustrator Liberty Ewan, speaks directly to kids but could also inspire some adults to re-evaluate their own opportunities to address the climate emergency at home, in their community or further afield.

It’s hard to acknowledge that the science is true and to take it personally. But once you do and begin to act on it there’s a relief. It’s up to all of us after all — not some bozo in Canberra.

So let’s get to it.

If you’d like a copy to read to your kids or fill a little stocking this Christmas we’d love to send you one.

Email hey@allornothing.co — we’d be keen to hear from you.

In 2002 a question on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? on US TV: What is Carol Brady’s maiden name? changed how we would experience privacy and The Internet for the coming two decades at least. The Data team at Google saw a spike in search traffic for the query at regular intervals across five time zones in the country that night. What could it mean?

Engineers had begun to note with interest the surplus of behavioural data building up around the search engine, a push from a competitor into ranked advertising and the start of AdWords at Google saw a realisation that they had the beginnings of something else. It was a ‘broad sensor of human behaviour’.

By 2003 it was no longer a search company but the first recursive learning system that could anticipate user needs and suggest services to meet them at a global commercial scale. Others soon followed suit.

From here on the development of a significant and wide-ranging challenge to our privacy, intentions and movements becomes murkier yet — but some things are clear.

A cosy relationship between security agencies (and by extension governments) and large tech platforms developed. Advertisers and their partners were more than happy to feed in more surplus to ‘render’ and take advantage of the advanced targeting options for their products and services. We were also complicit in the huge turn of the flywheel early on happily trading our data in return for services that do provide utility — but without much thought or ability to evaluate the cost.

The communications technology at our disposal is mostly useful, constructive and empowering. It is neither good nor bad, what we do with it as individuals, companies and governments defines its impact and that requires our constant attention and inquiry.

For every person supporting Electronic Frontiers Australia and switching off their social media in favour of less porous platforms there are a thousand happily making the awkward exchange of their data and future intentions for basic services.

There is a reasonable argument that government should and could provide communications services like messaging, email, personal media and the like. At the very least they should be careful regulated like water and electricity, yes we’ll see slower innovation but it will be at the pace we can understand and live comfortably with. Perhaps a mixed market would work — use the slow and steady state-based app we design as a community and mandate privacy OR try your luck with the private service with less transparency and more thrills.

It may be an era of more interested government is coming. Certainly we can’t go far with a small, disinterested mode for much longer and it may be communications technology gets the attention it deserves from citizens, government and the private sector. All need to be involved but the hands off approach today is not serving us well, only the servers in Mountain View.

I like the sleepiest room at the NGV. It’s the Schaeffer Gallery: the one with the red walls and all the very painterly paintings of the 19th-Century variety. The room that most of my friends skip, that they’d describe as ‘Traditional’ (yes, with the capital); the one that has literally nothing new about it.

So, you might describe it as old — which reminds me of something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. There’s naturally a strong dichotomy between old and new; boring and interesting; dusty and shiny. Two sides of the same coin, right? But is ‘old’ dusty and boring, and is ‘new’ therefore interesting and shiny?

I don’t think so.

For me, the sweet spot sits where they meet. What is innovation, if not using old ideas to create new ones? Putting the two together is what makes MONA — current controversy notwithstanding — so interesting. It’s why Joost Bakker’s futurefoodsystem, a productive building and zero-waste ecosystem in the middle of the city (also described as an ‘idea stolen from nature’) is fascinating to us. It’s a much more traditional way of living plonked into a modern and urban context. It’s a combination of two things that might not normally go together creating their own weird magic.

This approach works in so many sectors — business, marketing, food, popular culture — but art is particularly good at it. So bear with me while I dive into some of the NGVs collection for a moment.

Let’s say that my enjoyment of traditional paintings puts me in with the pearl-clutching East Melbourne crowd. I’m okay with that: I really do love it. The vignettes of life in other times and the mise-en-scène hinting at what was important and ‘normal’ then fascinate me. I like the floor to ceiling expanse of heavy, gilded frames, the stories, and the fact that it’s actually fairly overwhelming but somehow that doesn’t turn it a bad experience. And honestly (how old am I?), I also like the fact I can sit down and just take it all in.

I love the whole gallery, but time fades away for me in that room. It’s slow where we’re used to instant, snappy and fleeting. It’s quiet, but we’re so used to everything being loud. How refreshing.

“It’s slow where we’re used to instant, snappy and fleeting. It’s quiet, but we’re so used to everything being loud.”

There are a few paintings that I always gravitate to. And while I actively try to learn more about some of the other pieces, they’re always there at the edge of my vision, calling for my attention.

The first is The First Cloud by William Quiller Orchardson, painted in 1887: a portrait of a wealthy couple in a grand room. The woman is leaving the space (I imagine hearing the swish of her dress) and her much older husband stands on the rug by an empty hearth, hands in pocket, watching her go. I like to imagine she’s not putting up with whatever was said or done during the night. Where she is decisive and calm, he looks angry, a bit lost; a bit sad.

Senior Curator Ted Gott described it as “the first cloud in the storm that is about to engulf their marriage.” I look at it and wonder what kinds of arguments were flung around that room — it could have been about a badly cooked potato or an overly salty dish, for all we know.

Then there is Anguish. You’d know it: the cold, depressing one with the grieving sheep protecting its dying lamb, surrounded by a murder of crows (has there ever been a more appropriate collective noun?).

Mumma sheep looks so distressed, you can feel her sorrow. They’re really just opportunistically waiting for a moment of weakness — I wonder how much longer she has in her. I read somewhere recently that the artist, August Schenck, is ‘metaphorically examining a broader human condition in the context of an animal painting.’ There’s still an impossible number of ways to read into that.

Both of them old, with themes still relevant today.

I try to pick apart how the curators figured which paintings to hang next to each other. Because quite clearly, one story influences the next. When does the combination of two different pieces create a new context, and when does it become jarring? And what happens when you add a whole new layer on top?

I think that’s one of the things that’s so incredible about what they’ve done with the room for the Triennial.

Aside from the fact that I’m excited to see the two paintings next to each other, the context for the entire room has been flipped on its head. Old meets new — and how.

The NGV team has turned it into an audiovisual feast, and every single painting in the room has been made a part of a larger, newer and in some ways, more modern (yet perfectly timeless) story.

I’ve gone back to Salon et Lumière a bunch of times now. I’ve told my friends about it. And I’ve watched group after group of strangers who normally might glance at a painting or two and keep walking be transfixed by what the NGV has done with the room. They’re not just staying for one cycle, they want to experience it again. They turn around and watch the other side of the room or, as one person did, try and follow the lights by pirouetting on the spot — in that same old sleepy space.

It’s pretty incredible what a darkened room with movement, lights, projections and sound can do. The old has become new again. The traditional feels relevant and the familiar is now engaging. It’s a lesson in the fact that old isn’t necessarily irrelevant, it just might benefit from a new context; a different spin. Not an easy task in a world that’s constantly shouting for the latest, newest, coolest thing…

Especially when there’s a Koons just around another corner.

The Triennial is on until the 18th of April. It’s free, and it’s definitely worth checking out. Find out more and book a visit on the NGVs website.

On January 26, 1788, British settlers raised their flag and claimed the land for the first time at Warrane (Sydney Cove). The British government stated Australia was terra nullius (nobody’s land) to justify the settlement without treaty or payment legally. So the date regarded as the beginning of settler-colonialism involving violence towards, and dispossession of, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples should not be a day to celebrate. For first nations peoples, it’s a day of mourning.

Aboriginal owned and operated label Clothing the Gap suggests using the day to educate yourself. Attend a march or rally. Share content to show social media solidarity. Donate to Indigenous causes and shop Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander businesses. Learn and acknowledge what country you live and work on and start conversations. And, as Cricket Australia has done, remove any reference of Australia Day from your marketing. You’ll annoy the Prime Minister as an added bonus on that one.

Our objection to ‘Australia Day’ aside it is a public holiday and having a day off is usually a good thing. This is how our uncomfortable conversation started. Our Managing Director first raised working on the day, assuming we had all come to the same conclusion. But, as one of us said: “I’ll be supporting action on this in other ways, I’m not sure working makes a difference?” It was awkward at first. Mainly because we wanted to do the right thing but weren’t sure how. In the end, we all agreed to reschedule plans if possible and treat the day like any other Tuesday. It’s a small gesture. Actually, a minuscule one considering the impact that moment in history still has today. But, every small choice we make adds up when there are enough of us. Our decision to work has already led to other conversations with friends and family (and hairdressers). Maybe those people will now be more mindful of the day and educate others too.

Many more uncomfortable conversations like our one still need to happen in workplaces across the world about history, prosperity, privilege, equality and environmental impact (to name a few). They could lead to significant changes or tiny ones but each is worth having. Who knows, the date of your conversation could be one to look back on with pride.

In the past few years personally and professionally I’ve been involved in the overthrow of tyrants, unprecedented (sorry) changes to the law, new days for teams that fought hard for them or never believed they would come. Big steps both easy and hard for people of all kinds. I’ve been on the edge of it and in the thick of it.

In hindsight, each event started with a necessary conversation or deliberate action, someone else joins in, maybe a resource is found and eventually momentum takes over. The significance of that first step was not apparent at the time — as with most things we do.

I tell you this because I’m wondering on the biggest steps I can take for myself, the people I love and with the data I have today. But of more interest to you, I wonder what we can do together.

In this corner of Australia it’s clear many things need to change quickly for us to thrive and see another 40,000 years on this land. We still have some uncomfortable conversations to have around history, prosperity, equality, but perhaps most pressingly — the rising sea around us.

But time for talk is limited so, let’s get started while we nut it out!

As entrepreneurs, leaders and creative professionals we can each bend what we do well toward what we, they and the planet needs. It might take a month or a year but, we can all do it. Do what you love but — where it’s needed most. There’s almost no downside but to look away is heart-breaking.

Each of us, in every field, pursuit or passion — apply all you know and can quickly learn to help us:

• Use less and better energy, consume more wisely and travel less and more efficiently. We’re staring down a 4–6 degrees temperature rise in our and the next generation’s lives if we don’t halve our carbon emissions quickly. That’s the end of life as we know it today, and possibly us.
• Deploy our infinite curiosity and optimism to opportunities in sectors, cities and States that cause the most harm to people, systems and our future. The trade-offs aren’t working but, for many, we don’t live long enough to realise (or care). But talk to someone with an open heart twenty five years your junior and see how they feel about it.
• Take our chance at every election, summit, white paper, new board, pivot or hire to channel honest reflection and consultation into action for people and planet. Ideas and words are just the start.

What to make of 2020?

Let’s honour the pause this year and the jilting of our thoughts and intuition to further a reframing of how we all can participate and thrive. A creative agency can only contribute in a small way but, we punch above our weight. We help turn hunches into businesses into leaders with resource and, fuck… we need more of those right now. More Mikes, Ronnis and Allys.

Arguably the best levers for effectiveness as a business or organisation are scale and creativity. If you lack the former, use a disproportionate share of the latter.

An analysis of 50 years of Effies papers in 2019 (a respected award standard in the advertising industry, over 5000 case studies across categories and countries in this particular analysis) found that the bigger you are the better your chance of being effective with your creative dollar. It also found the second most signficant determinant (by a long margin) is creativity. For every $1 spent on fist-pumpingly, smile-breakingly creative work a return of $12 is delivered.

But perhaps unheroically, or because of the business model (big agencies run like international horse stables), many creative agencies chase those with the deepest pockets, not the deepest connection to our future.

You’ll have an idea of where our problems lie around the climate emergency, systemic inequality connected to opportunity, race and gender and the delicate nature of a global economy revealed by COVID-19. Our most creative thinking is needed here however the industries best supported by commercial creativity and media in 2019 and 2020 were Retail, Travel, Motor Vehicles, Finance and Communications. The rest of the top 10 categories also give pause for thought.

Given it’s one hundred seconds to midnight for humans I believe the best use of scale x creativity is to the abridged list earlier in this piece.

Allies, we have been behind the scenes since 2014 but now we’re plain to see. Greenpeace, Bank Australia, The Victorian Government and The Greens (for starters), let’s get on with it.

For our people, partners and clients we’re taking more deliberate steps on the path we set in 2014.

Pick up a pen, drop us a slack or call and we’ll walk through it together.

We’re in, All or Nothing.

The law is often convoluted and inaccessible to the general population. Tenancy rights in Victoria are no exception. Tenants Victoria represents two million Victorian renters. With a confusing and cluttered website driving users towards an under resourced phone and email service, the existing website wasn’t great for anyone.

One of the most important things to do with the new website project was to understand the user’s needs and put empathy at the centre of the solution. Clear navigation and structure for the 1,000+ pages as well as accessible design and warm art direction were vital.

People don’t often seek legal advice unless something has gone awry. To design solutions based in empathy we looked further than the user’s jobs to be done. We took into consideration how the user was feeling when they came to the site and the context for the session. For example, someone who has been served a ‘notice to vacate’ may be in a state of panic and anger. Stepping into the user’s shoes helped create positive and more impactful design thinking and touches throughout.

“Sometimes people call us while they are physically being evicted. Police are at their house. So yeah it’s quite urgent.”
— Tenants Victoria Lawyer

A challenging site navigation, over a thousand pages and few opportunities for quick scans meant people often reached out for help directly from the organisation for even the simplest things. In many cases they couldn’t get help at all.

This prompted us to run both internal staff and external tenant interviews. From these interviews, we created three user personas.

1. The DIYer — a user who is happy to do their own research to find relevant information and resources to assist their situation. The nature of the user’s issue usually is non urgent or non complex.
2. The Advice Seeker — a user who can identify the legal issue they’re dealing with, read information about it but still would like to get verbal reassurance from a lawyer.
3. In person help — a user whose issue is more complex, or they struggle to self serve, who needs help with a conversation or tailored advice. These users are often those who need representation in court. We identified these users as the highest priority for the email or phone service.

With the three user types in mind moved to prototyping and created a sitemap and wireframes.

With over 1000 English and foreign language pages, bulletproof navigation was incredibly important. We reorganised topics into relevant categories and implemented a strong search function.

The outline to solid hover state on the cards and buttons increases contrast which helps those with limited vision. The increased contrast hover state also encourages users to complete a particular action rather than falling back to the more involved navigation menus. It says “Hey it’s right here — go for it!”

On the text pages we implemented a progress bar in the sticky top navigation to set expectations for the user as some pages are quite long and full of information. To help users navigate these pages the ‘On this page’ sticky navigation anchor links down the page. Typography hierarchy and highlighted sections for users who skim read were also considered.

It was particularly important for all of us on the project to have Australians represented throughout the site from diverse ethnic and socio-economic backgrounds. We also collaborated with Melbourne based illustrator Jeff the Peff to bring a feeling of warmth and humanity to key pages on the site.

Eighty-four percent of the pages on the site are in a language other than English. We linked each of the 27 different language translations to their English-language counterparts. This saw us introduce a new in-page translation option via a dropdown module. The older system of having a foreign language landing page which lists all the available translations per language felt clunky but still added some value so we kept the functionality and gave it a facelift.

I’m one in a team of many who worked on this project. It was really special to get to work on something that helps people in the way Tenants Victoria does. As a developing designer with a strong digital background, I’m really proud of our team and how the site turned out. The whole team is excited to see how the work turns into better outcomes for people.

The above is my take on the experience, I’d be keen to hear your thoughts on the project!

I worked with a client recently who said what they do is boring… And then they spoke passionately for fifteen minutes about why responsible packaging and the circular economy is so important to the environment and the next generation.

I was hooked.

It feels a bit like plastic is the ‘necessary evil’ we’ve all come to accept. Sure, it protects food and conveniently bundles our items. The flip side is it’s often wasteful—remember those bananas wrapped in plastic? If only they came encased in some natural protective coating! On top of that, recycling can be a confusing and difficult process, even with the best of intentions.

This is where Cyclpac comes in. They’re a company creating renewable, recyclable and compostable packaging. They describe themselves as a little tugboat throwing stones at the big ship to turn it around. It takes a while for the ship to turn, but things are moving. Like David Attenborough said in his recent documentary ‘A Life On Our Planet’, “If we act now, we can yet get it right.” That’s why we were excited to work with them.

Even though packaging is Cyclpac’s bread and butter, so many conversations we had were around things that don’t actually need packaging. They were passionate about their product, but even more passionate about not overusing it. What was important to them was using packaging in a way that would increase shelf life and reduce food waste, not just selling their products. It was refreshing.

The brand was coming along nicely, simple and strong. Factually, it was all there. But the more we got to know the founders Edward and James, the more we talked to them, the more it felt like something was missing. Something that was a natural extension of them, that would make a proud statement. The thing that would clearly communicate that they’re looking at things differently.

So we went back to the drawing board.

We talked about it as a team. We had a sip of whisky (or two), and we stared deep into our recycling bins. Luke, our senior copywriter, cracked it. ‘Positive Plastic.’ I loved it. Not two words you’d usually utter as a pair, but strong, passionate and not confrontational. My mind ticked along and I figured out how it could work visually. Then we talked to Edward and James, all guns blazing.

There’d be extra costs—yes. But there would also be this great statement piece they could really own. It’d be the start of conversations, a visual for articles, and most importantly, something people would think about twice. Something unusual. We’d get it animated, make it move like it was wrapped in plastic, but breathing. Alive, not dead.

They sat there quietly thinking before Edward broke the silence.

“It makes me a bit uncomfortable. Let’s do it.”

Post-its. Until recently, all I knew about design sprints was that you use lots of them. The last agency I worked at had sizeable UX and strategy departments, so I (part of the creative team) was never invited to the party.

Design sprints (in case you were wondering) originated at Google Ventures but are now used around the world. The idea is to build and test a prototype in five days. It’s efficient, avoids the office politics that slow down projects and gives you customer insights before investing time and money into making the real thing. Sounds good right?

These days I work at independent agency, Pretty Neat, and recently I took part in a design sprint for a car sales app. I enjoyed the process and afterwards couldn’t understand why I’ve never done one before. According to other copywriters and art directors I spoke to, I’m not the only one.

Creatives have plenty to contribute. They think laterally, are critical, ask lots of questions, are good communicators and can draw a mean stick figure. So for any creatives out there wanting to try a design sprint here’s what to expect.

Monday: Mapping (the brief)

On day one you get to play strategist. You set goals, identify barriers to success and explore customer segments. You’ll also interview experts to get insights. At the end of the day your brief is written and you’ve created your first pile of post-its.

Tuesday: Sketch (brainstorm)

Just like when you’re doing internet research, day two kicks-off by sharing work you admire. The arvo is spent sketching ideas for the challenges identified on Monday. It’s just like when you’re brainstorming so it will come naturally.

Wednesday: Decide (creative review + refine)

Day three also felt familiar. It’s like when you have that first catch up with your Creative Director with all the ideas stuck up on the wall. In this case, everyone gets a vote. By the end of the day, you’ll have a solid idea to prototype.

Thursday: Prototype (make stuff)

Day four is exactly like the day before a pitch. You have a long list of things to smash out and time is not on your side. But if everyone digs in and you don’t overstretch yourself, you’ll have a bunch of work to show potential customers the next day.

Friday: Test (also test)

I missed the era of testing work in front of real people so I was looking forward to day five. Potential customers looked at the work we’d done and gave real-time feedback on what they thought. It was a fascinating learning experience and an excellent end to the week.

There you have it. If you want to contribute to a design sprint just apply the skills you use every day. The next time you bump into a strategy or design director in the office kitchen (or Slack channel during lockdown), offer your services. Sprint teams should be a mixed bag of experts and there’s plenty to gain from a creative being there.

Overall, I’m a fan of the process. I can see how it works better for product design but even for campaign work, it’s a good way to quickly stress test ideas. For campaigns, I think compressing the first couple of days to get more time to prototype would help. After waiting years to be invited to my first design sprint, I’m already looking forward to the next one.