what's the line?

the blank page – it's how all copy begins

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Double life.

For years I’ve lived the double life.

In the day I do my job. I ride the bus

Roll up my sleeves with the hoi polloi

But at night I live a life of exhilaration

Of missed heartbeats and adrenaline.

And let the truth be known – a life of dubious virtue.

I won’t deny I’ve engaged in violence

Even indulged in it.

I’ve assailed adversaries, and not merely in self-defence.

I’ve exhibited disregard for life, limb and property

And savoured every moment

You may not think it to look at me

But I have commanded armies, and conquered worlds.

And though in achieving these things, I have set morality aside –

I have no regrets.

For though I’ve lived a double life

At least I can say –

I’ve lived.

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100 years of Leica.

100 years ago, something changed dramatically the course of photography.

The first Leica was born.

Of course you could say,

“Hey. Some of these photos weren’t taken with a Leica at all.”

But I must gently disagree with you.

Leica took the camera out of the studio and placed it into real life.

Images à la Sauvette.

Snapshots.

We were able to see, to feel, to smell thousands of moments.

It became an extension of the eye of the photographer.

Joy. Pain.

Ordinary things.

Fear.

Losers. Winners.

Misery.

More from inside.

One image contaminating the others.

Metastasis.

The most iconic images in history, even the ones that weren’t taken by a Leica, were taken because of the Leica.

We didn’t invent photography, but we invented photography.

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You have to understand this about advertising. It is a business of opinions. There is no real right and wrong. What is true is this: the one with the best ability to convey her opinion wins. So. Learn to make your case. If you’re shy, and an introvert, it doesn’t matter. Just learn to make your ideas heard and learn to present them with the passion and theatre.

Leon Jacobs, 10 things I learned from a career in advertising

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Prius goes plural.

A plural, you ask, well what does it do? If you started with one, and added a few The answer’s not simple, so let’s go explore What do you call one, when it turns into more? There’s octopus, two octopi Spiky cactus, two cacti Then how come when we multiply Platypus doesn’t become platypi?

A single tooth, to a mouthful of teeth Five toes on your foot, and ten on your feet When one goose joins geese We’ll still never say, one moose, two meese Plurals are tricky It’s a bit of a chore What do you call one When it turns into more? Glasses and scissors stay the same Houses and humans add an ‘s’ to their name Dominoes topple with the ‘s’ at the end Fish are just fish, whether one or with friends A single Prius, it’s easy to know But if there’s a few, how would it go? Would you add ‘es’, or replace with an ‘i’ Simply keep it the same, or cast your net wide? A Latin professor says Prium’s the best What if Prien’s the one that put things to rest? After all this confusion, my head feels sore What do you call one, when it turns into more?

What do you call one, when it turns into more?

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The way to make good ads, I believe, is by being passionate about life and humanity, not advertising. – Yasmin Ahmad

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Dear Brother.

Walking the roads of our youth through the land of our childhood, our home and our truth Be near me, guide me Always stay beside me so i can be free, free Let’s roam this place familiar and vast Our playground of green frames, our past We were wanderers never lost, always home When every place was fenceless and time was endless our ways were always the same Cool my demons and walk with me, brother until our roads lead us away from each other And if your heart’s full of sorrow, keep walking, don’t rest And promise me from heart to chest to never let your memories die, never I will always be alive and by your side, in your mind I'm free

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I am the wind.

I am the wind. On land, no blade of grass moves without me. At sea, every rising wave is touched by me. Wherever you are, I am high enough to see you. And strong enough to reach out to you, and place strength in your hand. You may not alway see me,  but you will always feel me. For I am here. For a higher purpose.

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Life and Death In New York

I savour the taste of my coming death, a death in New York.

A death that begins with her, an extraordinary executive, who walks in an extraordinary way, in a rush with such extraordinary speed, crossing Central Park without giving so much as the least importance to the fact that she is crossing Central Park: an extraordinary attitude... and during this extraordinary haste, she makes an extraordinary space to satisfy an extraordinary whim and in an accurate, quick and extraordinary movement she undresses me to discover my extraordinary nudity.

I count one, two, three, and I listen to the buzz of an extraordinary city and I see the extraordinary horse-carriages, carrying extraordinary people, when the lights of New York go out.

An extraordinary black veil.

It's a quick death.

New York style. Extraordinary.

When a Magnum dies, pleasure lives.

Magnum. For pleasure seekers.

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Looking Back.

It was in 1989.

Near the completion of what we now know was just the first phase of the Voyager II mission.

Voyager II, the incredibly persistent, precise spacecraft.

Whose 12 year mission would take it past Jupiter in 1979.

And Saturn in 1981.

And finally on to Neptune in 1989.

And just before it was meant to leave our solar system, just before it was meant to retire to a pleasant life in the cosmos, studying ultraviolet sources among the stars... just as it was about to do that, the people of NASA couldn’t resist.

They sent a signal to Voyager II. And they turned the camera completely around.

So that Voyager II is travelling forwards, looking backwards, over its shoulder.

And looking back, they took a picture of Earth.

A small blue dot. And a single beam of sunlight.

And that, should anyone ever ask you, is the definition of art.

And at that time, nobody asked why they turned the camera around.

But if anyone ever ask you, they turned the camera around not for science.

But for the same reason when your parents dropped you off on your first day of school.

You wanted to be brave, and start off on a new adventure.

But you couldn’t resist. You looked back. Over your shoulder.

And you took a picture of that moment.

That’s why the people of NASA turned the camera around.

They couldn’t resist.

They had to see what home looked like, so far away from home.

And that, should anyone ever ask, is what defines us.

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Every game’s an adventure.

The third planet from the sun, this spinning earth Thousands of football cups but only one is first Here comes the light to break the pitch: The new day Crowds wake! Clouds break! The adventure is under way.

I will not waiver, I will not fall, I will not cower When under great pressure, the great overpower We are equal in dreams - underdogs and over achievers We are nothing without adventure believers.

There’s everything to gain: everything to prove. Touch and be touched, move and be moved Summon all resources, steal chance, take risk The challenge, the adventure, the grit.

One game, one destiny, one goal, one curved ball of earth One and all young and old more than gold is worth All four corners, this field this cup – Our number one When against all odds carry on. Shout “Carry on!”

Make wings of your arms with the heart. At its centre The challenge, the flight Every game’s an adventure

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Anti-established.

No one ever marked it down. But that hasn't stopped the few of us from mourning The day that all the shiny things began to blind us When identical became ideal Disposable somehow desirable Iron and oak brought to their knees by a plastic army A sad day indeed for the finer things For theirs is a voice that refuses to scream An urgent whisper lost to many But not on us We still feel the earth beneath our feet We fight for the flawed And don't forget the forgotten We are not many But we will forge progress from the past We will never know how the most efficient way Came to be the right way. But if it is, we'll stick to doing things the wrong way.

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Worthy.

You wonder sometimes. Am I in the mood? Maybe yes. Maybe no.

Either of which are okay.

But if what’s stopping you is the itty-bitty-shitty committee in your mind, tell them to hush.

You are beautiful. Worthy. And you smell just as nature intended.

And if that lingering doubt doesn’t fade, quiet it however you can.

And get on with the joyful, happy act of getting it on.

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By Various Artists.

Various artists is a new creative agency. We don't do this or this, but we do make you feel like this, this, this and this. We're great if you want to feel more like this, or like this, or even like that, but we'll never make you feel like this or this. And definitely not like that. This? Sure. This? Naturally. This? Comes as standard. Hey, if you want to feel like this we'll do it. We're all grown ups. But we try and stay away from this, That's just too far. If you'd like to see some of our work or find out more, you can use this, this, or this.

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Our ride.

She hated the flowers. She hated the bar. She hated the crowd. She hated the cocktails. She hated my jokes. She hated the theatre. She hated the seats. She hated the show. She hated the restaurant. She hated our table. She hated the waiter. She hated the wine. She hated the food. She hated the club. She hated the music. She hated to dance. She hated the stroll. She hated her heels. She hated the ice cream. She hugged me all the way home.

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Mayhem Red.

The wine you’re about to enjoy should not exist.

Halfway through the growing season wildfires ripped through our vineyard. At the winery, our grape crusher slipped and broke his collarbone before the ferment was stolen and later recovered in Mexico. On its way to the bottling plant, the delivery truck swerved to miss a pothole, drove off a small cliff, rolled four times and exploded. Yet, the barrels remained unscathed. The question is not what to drink it with, but whether to open it at all.

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Rewind.

The little girl lies peacefully on her bed of tarmac, a ruby red pillow cradling her head. With her eyes still closed, she sucks the blood slowly back into her mouth.

Now her shattered legs become whole. The shards of glass embedded in them fly out, like crystal butterflies, and become your headlights once more. She leaps up gracefully from the road, and now she is a broken ballerina, twirling and twisting in mid-air. She travels five full metres, and lands on her two feet, her scattered schoolbooks falling neatly back into her satchel. The sudden fear in her eyes fades. And as you stop to let her cross safely, she smiles at you, almost as if you haven't just killed her.

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Go Forth.

Your life is your life. Don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission. Be on the watch. There are ways out. There is a light somewhere. It may not be much light but it beats the darkness. Be on the watch. The gods will offer you chances. Know them. Take them. You can’t beat death But you can beat death in life, sometimes. And the more often you learn to do it, The more light there will be. Your life is your life. Know it while you have it. You are marvelous. The gods wait to delight in you.