Paul Catmur: A Manifesto for Mediocrity
By Paul Catmur, co-founder of Barnes, Catmur & Friends.
‘I know of no one more qualified to write about mediocrity.’ – Sir John Hegarty
Now that I spend most of my time out of the industry, I have considerable time for reflection on what is laughingly referred to as a career. After many walks along the beach throwing sticks for my pet four-legged fish I am coming to the heretical conclusion that many Creatives in advertising would be better off if they stopped trying to be brilliant and instead concentrated on making the most of being mediocre.
The problem is not the aspiration to do great work, which is all well and good; the problem is the remote likelihood of success and the personal issues resulting from being not as good as you think you are. Not terrible, not brilliant, but just mediocre. I’ve met several brilliant creatives who have made little of their talents, but also very average ones who have been smart enough to mould themselves into a great success.
I expect by now most of you will be thinking, ‘that’s all very well, but obviously this mediocrity stuff doesn’t apply to me because I’m actually pretty bloody exceptional, myself’. While that is possibly true, it is statistically unlikely. Most people are quite deluded about their abilities and think themselves way better than they actually are. This phenomenon is known as Superiority Bias or sometimes as ‘The Lake Wobegon effect’ (the fictional town where all children are above average). In a famous study, a 1977 survey at the University of Nebraska–Lincoln found that 94% of the faculty rated themselves as above average. Not the students, this was the teachers who had such a woeful understanding of their place in the world. I’m pretty sure that in most creative departments the percentage who consider themselves to be above average would get pretty close to 100%.
The issue is not just that people are not as good as they think, it’s also that they struggle to judge between good and bad work. The Dunning-Kruger effect proports that those who are poor at performing a certain task are also poor at judging how well others perform that same task. Witness the junior creatives who are utterly scathing about others’ work, yet who demonstrate little ability to do anything half as good themselves. (No doubt I was one of those.) There are also those irritating creative teams who fight like a cornered mongoose to get through a piece of work which everyone else can see is clearly ‘meh’ at best. (Me again.)
A senior client of a large UK company once said to me ‘the trouble with you guys is that you’re always trying to give us 100%. There’s really no need, we’d be more than happy with 80%.’ I believe he was saying what most clients are thinking, yet ashamed to admit. Yes, you’ll sometimes come across clients asking for ‘amazing, cut-through’ work, but their definition of such is almost always very different from that of Creatives. The Sales Director of a car company once hurried across a room to tell me in gushing tones how impressed he was with our most recent ad for them. I involuntarily puffed my chest out eager to hear what particular element of our wonderful press ad had most impressed him: The witty headline? The cutting edge art direction? The iconoclastic theme? ‘It’s got three pictures of our cars in the same ad,’ he said. ‘Best ad I’ve ever seen’.
Rather than the ‘Absolutely Brilliant’, clients are generally searching for something which will do a good job of selling their product and which they won’t be sacked for. Creatives, on the other hand, want to do something which will make them famous and give them an excuse to be drunker than anyone else at an award show. Very, very rarely do these two desires actually coincide.
We’re not artists starving in a garret struggling to produce something that encapsulates our entire being onto a piece of dirty canvas. Our job is to produce some form of communication that shifts toilet paper so well that somebody wants to pay us for it. We need to embrace our personal limitations and work with them, rather than dismissing the possibility of our ordinariness and suffering from a constant headache born from banging our heads against the brick wall of marginal competence.
Those creatives that can read in longer forms than a Tweet will pour over books written by the legendary practitioners of our profession like Sir John Hegarty, Lee Clow, Dave Trott, Bill Bernbach, Luke Sullivan etc. and this leads them to the conclusion that with a little application they can produce work as good as the authors did. The evidence, however, suggests otherwise. The work that the readers go on to produce is still about 95% rubbish. Only a delusional schoolboy watches a Lionel Messi video and thinks that with a little extra practice he will be playing in a World Cup final. Don’t stop reading them, just don’t kid yourselves that you’ll ever be that good.
If you ever finally come to realise that you’re maybe not quite as good as you think you are, what should you do? I recommend a little self-reflection working out what your strengths are and how you can best utlilise them to be helpful to your agency and your clients. Find your rightful place in the universe and make the most of it.
Redundancy is a constant in advertising owing to the fickle nature of clients (or maybe it’s the incapacity of agencies to produce consistently desirable work? Hard to tell). However the axe is much less likely to fall on those who are seen as an important part of the agency, as opposed to a delusional pain-in-the-arse who occasionally flukes something of note.
The sooner you come to terms with the possibility that it is a lack of genius, rather than just bad luck, that is holding you back from your rightful position as a Titan of Creativity the better. Stop beating yourself up, as well as those around you; learn to accept your limitations, and make the most of your mediocrity. It will not only help your career (details to follow) but will make you much happier too.
Further suspect career advice is available from the Truth and Soul podcast: https://www.truthandsoul.co.nz/
Paul Catmur, having to a certain extent come to terms with his own failings, went on to become ECD of DDB NZ, George Patts Y&R Melbourne and Barnes, Catmur & Friends Dentsu.
30 Comments
Fucking brilliant Paul. Best piece I’ve read on here in 15 years. Thank you.
Thanks D, I appreciate that.
Lovely writing as always Paul.
Brilliant. This encapsulates the feeling I get when I look at the photos of the cream of Australia’s creative community carousing at a Legendary Lunch.
Certainly, I used to be captivated by that scene and was a more-than-willing participant.
But at the same time I was in a state of cognitive dissonance caused by once being told by the iconic Creative Director and writer who had earlier employed me “You’re not as good as you think you are” on the one hand, and being piled high with awards, accolades and industry adulation on the other.
I’ve read some fucken bullshit on this site over the past 10 years.
This piece is the bullshit we’ve all been waiting to hear.
Kudos, Paul.
It’s really tough to read this and accept it. Part of my soul knows you’re right, but that other part believes that we just need to keep trying as hard as we can. Countless times I’ve dabbled with the idea of just giving up a bit and making “ok work” instead of fighting for great work. Ironically in the end after fighting, 98% of the time I do just make “ok work”. BUt if we don’t keep up the good fight then we will never achieve that 2% of great, which when it does happen is incredible.
Excellent piece. You’re not John Hegarty and I’m not Phil Knight.
Just as long as neither of us is Adam Gase…
You’ll never be Adam Gase Paul. Your personality, humour and effusiveness align perfectly with Bill Bellichick.
Wise words Paul C ~ the Advertising industry is like cocaine – it makes even stupid people believe they are destined for greatness!!
I agree with you but I don’t think that’s what Paul means. I’ve spent over 20 years feeling like the most talentless creative in the room but what keeps me interested is aiming for great and fighting for it. To have the one piece or pieces or campaign that leaves a mark long after you’re gone should always be the goal. If you give up that ambition you’ve really given up. If you don’t get there, fuck it, you never stopped having a crack.
Hi Mikey,
I agree that we can all get pleasure from doing our job well, and I don’t mean that we should all stop trying to do the best work that we can within the parameters that talent and clients allow. However I think it could be useful if, as individuals, we accept that there are alternative measures of success in life to winning advertising awards.
Nobody on their death bed wishes they’d spent more time at the office. And I rather doubt anyone breathes their last breath while punching the air in the satisfaction because they’d won a couple of Cannes Golds twenty years earlier. (Actually, maybe we all know one or two…) My contention is that with a little honest self-awareness you can still work your way towards a decent career in the business without damaging the rest of your life in the process.
During your career you’ve won a lot of awards. Was winning metal a measure of success at the agencies you led? And if as I suspect it was, how can this not trickle down to every single creative in the department, regardless talent or client?
Make no mistake, I agree with your assertion that we should be, let’s call it, more ‘professional’ in how we approach the work.
I guess my question is, would you have done things any differently? And if so, would that mean you’d be in the position you are right now?
Dear Honest Question,
You cheated there because you asked several questions, presumably all honest, but thanks. It would take a lot of time to answer them properly. Also bear in mind that I wrote the piece very much in looking back at my career rather than being in the thick of it. But here goes.
When I was at DDB NZ, around 200-2006, awards were very much the currency of the successful agency, and I played that game to a certain extent. I would push the department to try and do ‘great’ work because I saw that as part of my job. Having said that, I was very anti-scam and requested great work for existing clients for real briefs. Hopefully I didn’t push too hard (cue backlash) and I think people did it as much for their careers as for me. I enjoyed that time very much and I hope that most of the guys there did too.
When we started Barnes, Catmur & Friends we wanted to do work that was respected, but because it was our own agency we worried far more about keeping afloat than winning creative awards.We consciously decided to aim purely at effectiveness.
Personally I found it so much more interesting to review creative work by asking ‘will it work?’ as opposed to ‘will it win an award?’.
The battle came to encourage behaviour change in the target audience rather than the jury room, which is as it should be. I’m not saying that work can’t do both, but currently the cart is way ahead of the horse. It’s actually crazy that this has happened and I think the industry is paying for it now.
Awards used to be a by-product of doing exceptional work. Somehow they became the aim in itself.
Cheers
Paul
Thanks Paul for your reply. And yep, agree 100%. Cheers and best of luck.
How many other people have read this post and considered responding with an equally astute comment, but has been daunted by the brilliance of the insight and honesty and struggled to say anything useful and then not had the confidence to use their real name?
It’s a matter of balance.
On one hand we should be striving to do our job really well and that sometimes leads to awards (You can do great work for a client without winning an award too). Awards are an inaccurate imprecise measurement of what is subjectively, at the time, is considered great by the industry, which is to say they are at least some measure. And if that job was created legitimately, not simply for the sake of awards, then it’s fair to feel pretty proud of that.
It seems to me it gets out of balance when the work is hyped beyond its importance, something I think has become more prominent since it became possible to win dozens of awards for the same piece of work in one show, especially at Cannes. Over a years worth of award shows may lead to say 50-100 awards for the same piece of work. It can elevate people who really don’t have that much experience to massive careers very quickly and self delusion (which Paul described). Then imagine if that bit of award winning work is actually pretty scam-esque. Now you have someone who hasn’t really ever created work that worked in a business sense for clients, or work that connected with the average person telling other people what to do.
You’ve just described half the industry.
Your manifesto for mediocre is brilliant Paul.
This both the best piece and best and most intelligent and authentic comment thread ever to grace the (virtual) pages of Campaign Brief.
What a pity there will soon be a return to the poorly written, shallow, monosyllabic comments by people who are obviously juniors in this industry.
Beat me to it…
Brilliant.
And applicable to a wide range of careers.
Not every architect will design the Opera House.
Nor will every software creator think up AirBnB.
But that does not mean you can’t have an extremely creative and rewarding career and strive for ‘great’ work.
A very cool and interesting read, really great to get a different perspective from the usual. We’ve all worked with (or been) that creative who prints their ads out small to see what they’ll look like in an award book, and they can be a royal pain in the arse, but as someone above said it’s probably about balance. You’ve got to have a bit of passion or this industry will just fucking smother the soul out of you. Even if you never make it onto a stge (and lately, does anyone give a fuck about those pointess shiny things anymore), I reckon it’s okay to try – as long as you’re not trying at the client’s expense, by selling them a fucking activation that 3 people will see when what they really need is a strong social campaign. That’s the shit that gets me down – people trying to put themselves on a pedestal instead of the thing they’re meant to be selling. I actually like it when people keep trying to be great though, because they very occasionally are, and that’s good for everyone. Particularly the client.
As an agency, we managed to win a LOT of awards. I won many myself. But the game was always played within a very rational framework, thanks to some genius thinking by David Blackley. The BRIEFS were graded Gold, Silver and Bronze (Purely internally of course). Bronze: Do the right thing, make sure the audience will notice, and buy…but be responsible. Silver: Take a chance if you can…see if one of the junior teams can smash it, but give it to a solid mid-weight team as well just to be sure. Gold: A genuine chance to make yourself and the agency even more successful. Go for it, with the whole agency’s support when it’s good. Yes, you had to earn a shot at these briefs…
It was obvious (Way back then) that you could kill your agency’s culture if every little brief carried the burden of unrealistic expectations.
Sometimes, you simply did the job you were paid for. And that was more than enough.
And we all got well paid. It seems like such a quaint, old-fashioned business model now.
Remember we are not the clients and we don’t pay the invoices, so in reality we are not very important. Thank you
And we get a nice, fat salary day in day out whether our work works or not. We rarely ask what the client’s business figures are, or whether our jokes made any difference to the bottom line. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. All fun, no risk, no responsibility. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better to be paid for our ideas rather than our time…nah, I’ll take the guaranteed $200K.
Brilliantly observed and written, but at the risk of being accused of being a pedant, people ‘pore’ over books rather than ‘pour’ over them – with the possible exception of a now deceased dear friend of mine.
Whilst being an outstanding copywriter, he was also a notorious alcoholic who could often be observed clutching a wobbly glass while indulging another of his favourite pastimes – reading.
FYI. I’m not sure if you will be keeping your $200K for very long, better start looking to hang up your own shingle with the plethora of other outmoded creative people in our business. Good luck.
@Rubba, thank you and several @ anonymous for those kind words.
@Sobering thought: Several people have pointed this out and I am suitable contrite. I blame Lynchy for not subbing it.
@Clemenger Alumni: Yes, I think that is a properly pragmatic system.
A frighteningly obvious truth.
And beautifully written as usual.