It might, of course, be his fault…

I love her, she’s great. Hope next year is better!

While I believe a great deal of rights are fundamental, such as happiness choice and speech, I do think that people should be taught to reflect on what they do, rather than just doing things because they can. I am not saying everyone is super selfish, but I do think a great deal of us forget about the impacts of what we do, especially on smaller scales.

So what can educate people? I am a firm believer that small messages can really make a difference. I have a great deal of faith in communication arts to affect people’s attitudes as much as their desire to purchase a product.

I am not an anti-consumerist, and think that ads are an interesting reflection of our times and of our culture, etc etc. So, can advertising save the world?

Here are a few campaigns that I’ve seen and found articles on:

http://www.populationstatistic.com/archives/2008/09/02/dentyne-promotes-offlining-via-gum-chewing/

I hate gum, myself, and find chewing gum rather rude, but this campaign about “making face time” has really caught my attention. It’s all about our need to be with people in a society where we spend most of our time detached, communicating at a distance.  The ads also imply that the physical distance over which we communicate on our cell phones is creating a more fundamental distance.  It made me make an appointment to see some friends from college I hadn’t seen in nearly a year…

I thought Manhattan’s mini storage ads were fantastic this past year, even though many argued against their political agendae. Their work in philanthropy also appeared in ads, inflaming more controversy, where they asked you to purchase their services and do more than save your stuff “http://www.prweb.com/releases/2008/04/prweb874234.htm“

I plan to continue this, but I am supposed to being work.

As I gather my thoughts, feel free to send me some more examples.

I used a 1960s scifi magazine cover image for this necklacey thing. It’s a bit heavy, so I think I may get a wider cord for it.

And here is the Mao belt buckle I made.

yay.

just a little concept sketch based on a song that’s often in my head.

I can’t put my finger on why, really. Things aren’t bad, and I have a big week ahead of me, but it was enough to knock the breath out of me.

Wonder if I need new pills…

Another piece I did from an image that popped in my head. I really like this one.

Another haiku. I could use some constructive critique.

I am extremely amused by this picture.

I usually don’t bother with the face of politics. I have my causes, and have been called a bleeding heart liberal, but I never really read polls or watched candidates march to the finish line except in presidential elections. In 2004, when John Kerry lost to W, I actually fainted. It was the first presidential election in which I was old enough to vote, and had been certain that W was a terrible idea since he “won” in 2000.

Upon hearing the news that America elected the man again, even having gotten to know him as a political fiasco for four years, my faith in the intelligence and wisdom of the general populace of America had been, I thought, irrevocably damaged. Aware as I am that I belong to what some might call the North East Coast Elite, having grown up in New Jersey and gone to great schools, I didn’t think that the majority of my fellow countrymen could be so easily confused.

This time around, my interest was piqued when Hillary Clinton, one of my favorite pols in the public eye (granted, I don’t know a whole lot of them), was running to become the Democrat’s presidential candidate. I respected her experience, enjoyed her feistiness, and agreed with many of her platforms. I didn’t know much about Barack Obama at the time, but he sounded far more conservative in comparison, so I went with Hillary. Around the time when it was obvious she was going to lose, I began to understand that her tactics had turned off the people in the party, and that it would be best for her to bow out, despite her being my favorite.

Obama became the nominee to run against McCain, and I began paying more attention to “the other guy” who beat out Senator Clinton. It didn’t take long for me to be swept up by his inspirational words and commanding presence. Having conceded defeat well before the convention, there was no “bitterness” as people expected from Clinton supporters; I just really hoped he could win against McCain, the war hero.

At the start, I was worried about some things: his youth and “inexperience” (as his opponents deemed it), his erudite manor (which some took as elitist or professorial), and his confidence (what some took as arrogance). Of course, these were precisely the reasons I was keen on him, but I had come to doubt the opinions of my fellow Americans. Twice, they had chosen the guy with whom they wanted to get a beer. Twice, they scoffed at the Democrat’s candidate for being to…smart…

Then, there was the “disasta from Alaska”. Sarah Palin came on the scene and instantly, I was struck with terror. She came into the convention with personality, flare, and good looks. McCain’s prospects suddenly went from good to fantastic just by nominating a political nobody with a few good catchphrases. Suddenly, she was the representative of women in power. Everyone forgot about Hillary for a while, and focused on the gal with rimless glasses.

I began checking the polls daily, like many of my friends. Her numbers were skyrocketing, and I was dumbfounded. Was this pick going to win the old man the presidency? Who the hell is she anyway? Ah, but then we began to actually see her. The brown hair and spectacles did not mask her ignorance and unpreparedness for long. Blunder after blunder, some defended her as being “attacked” by the media, but seriously, she was doing it to herself. When Tina Fey did a skit using Palin’s own words, nearly verbatim, from an interview with the almost parentally patient Katie Couric, I felt that people would surely realize that she knew next to nothing about government.

My best friend started a webcomic collective, of which I became a part, called Super Barracuda, to release our frustrations about the election season. Our main focus, of course, was Sarah Palin. I was surprised to see how many people read it, and how many contributed.

As her numbers plummeted, I breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed that McCain’s gamble had cost him. In addition to Palin’s gaffes, the Republican campaign was growing ever more negative, often throwing jabs that disgusted even members of its own party. Obama kept his impenetrable confidence and cool through debates with an angry Arizona Senator and fight-dirty advertising. My respect for the man swelled daily. I began to get the fever. I live in New York, where everyone was excited by the idea of his presidency. Obama paraphernalia was everywhere and it was stirring to see how the cynicism of New Yorkers for anyone in politics was melting away with the promises of change and hope.

Along with my friend, I volunteered for the campaign and made my first ever financial contribution for any political campaign. Sure, I’d had my causes and donated money for those, but I had never thought I would see myself send money to a candidate. I had t-shirts and a few buttons. I attended events and even took a bus to North Philly to canvas voters on Election Day. The usually cynical Bree had thrown her weight behind something political, and it didn’t even feel dirty!

The night of the Election, I got back from Philly and voted. People walking out of the polls all wore broad smiles on their faces and had a new bounce in their steps. On the Upper East Side, it was certain that most had voted for Obama. The smiling was contagious. I went to hang out at a party to watch CNN (we kids sure know how to have fun these days). When they finally announced that it was Obama’s win, I could hear cheering and hooting outside the window, from other peoples’ apartments. I was stunned, thrilled. All of that worrying was finally over! After eight years, my faith in my fellow citizens was growing back like flowers in springtime. As I walked home, deliriously happy, cars and taxis honked down the street in celebration and people on the sidewalks were practically dancing.

The next morning, I was near the subway entrance when my cell phone rang. My dad, a life-long Republican, called to congratulate me on the Obama victory. My dad, despite his vague loyalty to his party, had always been a thinker more than a fundamentalist and I’ve often told him that he was a Democrat in GOP clothing. This morning, though, my candidate had won and he was pleased. “I think the right man won and feel that things will get better here. I’m really proud of you. You believed in something and you worked hard to make it happen. You’re my hero.” I nearly cried.