Self-Portrait April 2016, The Sterling & Francine Clark Art Institute
I think plasmatic energy from Herr Karl Lagerfeld was coursing through the New England air….
Tag: Leica
Rural Marketing
It’s a wonderful drive to get there. Along the way, you’ll see some of the most pastoral and picturesque landscapes that New England can offer.
The restaurant at South Face Sugarfarm is celebrating its last season. For over 30 years, the family has been serving a variety of New England breakfast fare to visitors from all over. Many visitors become regulars who then make the trip every Spring to partake of homemade waffles, pancakes and more. Naturally, the sugarfarm’s maple syrup is the siren that prompts visitors to make the trek. Ours is a leisurely one hour drive.
As far as I can remember, they didn’t do much advertising through the years. You might open a Thursday Lifestyle section of the local newspaper and see a small ad. That was it. No radio, TV, outdoor, direct mail and so on.
I suppose in its purest form, word-of-mouth marketing is its biggest champion in generating traffic. Whenever we’re there, it’s often crowded and if the weather is half-way decent, people who signed in for a table wait outside. We’ve since learned to go as early as possible. People don’t mind waiting; call it rural networking if you will, as you’ll hear introductions and conversations that could work just as well in a big city cafe.
The experience at South Face Sugerfarm Restaurant defines the brand. It’s consistently congenial, comfortable and more. The food is great of course. The service is very good and the overall feel is one of down-to-earth simplicity. Paper plates and plastic utensils are the order of the day. Everything else is home-made if not uniquely belonging to South Face.
On some visits, there’s a cacophony of “hellos” and “great to see you again” mixed in with small talk and the occasional hearty chuckle or a chorus of “No way!” The cozy dining room can be whisper calm one moment and bustling the next.
I know I’ll miss the drive up to little Ashfield, Massachusetts and miss the South Face restaurant even more. But this is New England and somewhere, another sugarhouse beckons an introduction.
CORRECTIONS: I received word from the owner that advertising was actually regularly done via newspapers in the area as well as on the online directory, massmaple.org as well as more recently on Facebook. My apologies for the error.
Rainbow Connection
If you’re curious, you’ll find my most recent post here.
Time Travel
Nostalgia has a way of displacing your sense of place—physically, emotionally, even spiritually. We recently returned from Colorado visiting our daughter and her boyfriend. It was our first time in Colorado. I now have a better understanding of why those 2 love it out there. You encounter beautiful scenery, a lot of open spaces, a more relaxed pace of living and so forth. For the most part, 95% of why we wanted to go was to see our kid [no longer a “kid” I might add]. If she was flung further, we’d still find the means to visit her.
The Gold Hill Inn had a strong pull for me. Specifically the place harkened to a time when you knew most of the townsfolk by name, offered a greeting [mornin’ ma’am] and rarely took for granted what was in front of you. Here was an old mining town and an inn that held no pretense. What you see is what you get, as they say. Conversation you might have overheard was direct and nothing of the dialect we hear or read about in media, whether broadcast, print or electronic.
Aside from the obvious modern conveniences of electricity, telephone, running hot and cold water and bathrooms, you can see, smell and hear the straightforward attributes of the time. The wine cabinet looked sturdily built and beautiful to look at. The National Cash Register, while obsolete, still proudly showed off its utility and independence; it required no electrical power but the firm hand of the bartender. No LCDs or CRTs here, thank you. And you better have strong hands and fingers to manipulate the keys and drawer of this handsome machine. And directly above that cash register, what better contrast than the nude portrait positioned just so, as if recumbent on the edge of that register. The fecund suggestions in both portrait and cash register shouldn’t be lost on anyone. Strength, abundance, beauty, even mindfulness, all expressed in just those 2 objects.
The floorboards were just that: a floor made out of wood, perhaps oak or another type of hardwood. When you walked on it, you felt its idiosyncracies. Not all the planks lay perfectly flat, some joints stood higher or lower than the one adjacent. If you happen to wear boots—especially cowboy boots—the firm, “thud” of a heel made known to all that you weren’t innocuous or at least couldn’t be. Try as you might, you can’t ignore that heavy sound on the floor; your natural reaction was to look over to see who was there. Old, young, man or woman, the “thud” sounded and felt the same. 
In its simplest form, the declarative sentiment nostalgia often gives to us is, “How much more do you need?” Today, “want” versus “need” often precedes more. All the fundamentals of life are laid bare in this town. Aesthete is in the eye [and pocketbook] of the beholder, but standing in that town, in that room, on main street with an open mind and unhurried cadence only enhanced the value of what was genuine. What you see is what you get, indeed, but sometimes I need perspective on what I already have.
Demographic Segmentation & Marketing
I learned early on in my career that market segmentation is but one level of segmentation. I think of the process as one of differentiation. Demographic segmentation requires specificity in a cultural subset. In other words, you don’t place spanish-speaking people as solely spaniards any more than those speaking french as frenchmen.
The subset is of material importance. Spanish-speaking people come from many places other than Spain, ergo the same for french-speaking people living elsewhere than France. Think Puerto Rico, Mexico, Columbia, Dominican Republic for the former and Quebec, Monaco, Ivory Coast and Belgium for the latter.
There has been a tremendous amount of buzz regarding LGBT civil rights. Ireland is the first country that recognizes same-sex marriage after its citizens voted it so just this past May. Caitlyn Jenner is a household name and we’re likely to hear a lot more about the former Bruce Jenner’s transgender journey.
So, what does this have to do with marketing? For me, plenty.
First and foremost, we’re dealing with a community of people. Many countries treat LGBT people like criminals. In no uncertain terms, being lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender puts you on death row in several countries. So, tell me where’s the real crime taking place?
I recently attended a screening at the 28th Annual Outfilm CT Film Festival held on the beautiful campus of Trinity College in Hartford, Connecticut. From May 9th to June 6th, controversy, art, education, tolerance, intolerance, inclusion, love, forgiveness, the banal and the beautiful were expressed across a variety of films, short and of feature length. The films I watched provided a temporal take on LGBT concerns as well as the eternal qualities of love, acceptance and foregiveness.
There’s also the economic take that cannot be ignored. LGBT folks are contributors and consumers. Some hold high-level positions in business [Tim Cook, CEO of Apple, e.g.] Yes, the human costs are invaluable, however the economic costs can be calculated. If you need more information, this recent article from The Atlantic can shed more light on the value of the LGBT economy.
How important is the LGBT community? Here’s the short list of corporate sponsors of the Outfilm CT Film Festival: Pratty & Whitney; CIGNA; The Hartford; AARP; Aetna; Baccardi; Barefoot Wines, among others…like the firm I work with.
In addition to other key designations and credentials, Michael Matty, the President of St. Germain Investment Management, holds the following: Accredited Domestic Partner Advisor [ADPA]. While segmentation is important in marketing analysis, inclusion holds its own relevance as well.
Music Matters
In my line of work, you host, sponsor and get invited to a variety of events from various non-profit agencies and causes. Most everyone can understand donation requests in the form of food, clothing, footwear and safe housing. The need for basic items will not abate and is likely not to.
This past weekend, my wife and I were invited by 2 wonderful friends to attend the annual Hartford Symphony BRAVO! gala to support the HSO and its various programs. This may sound like a declaration for music appreciation, perhaps it is because other than imagery, music is a vehicle that connects you to some of your most profund emotions: fear, joy, nostalgia, regret, anticipation, optimism, self-worth among others.
Many galas are over the top [in a good way!], but if you get past the themes, decorative accoutrements, wine, main course, dessert and coffee/tea, there’s no wondering about the main purpose of these functions: to procure money and moral support.
Ticket sales alone cannot support a symphony; that’s too much to expect in this day and age. I believe such was the case many years ago. Financial and moral support need not be mutually exclusive. Think in terms of helping children and young people. Like other major symphony orchestras, the HSO creates programs that encourages kids to become more involved with music. At the very least, to increase our involvement through time, talent, financial contributions or combinations thereof.
We see many things connected to the arts falling away due to budget cuts. Materials, instruments, field trips, special visits/talks from artist themselves and so forth disappear. Like any other solid corporation, the HSO gives back to the community. In the case of the HSO, it’s more about teaching kids about the power of music. Neophytes are not the exclusive target audience; experienced student musicians also beneifit from music-focused programs and activities.
It’s not a stretch to think—and feel—that music matters.
Technical: All images taken with a Leica M, Elmarit 28mm f/2.8 lens: ISO ranges from 400 to 3200.
Winter Colors [sort of…..]
“Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen….” and so goes the opening chorus of a popular spiritual song, which, in light of this year’s winter snow, feels appropo. I can’t remember a time when so much cold and snow visited our fair states. Substitute “winter” for “trouble” in the opening line and you can get a good sense of what burdens the lot of us. The quantity of snow has wreaked havoc on just about everything, and I mean everything.
But, all is not lost. This past weekend, scores of winter-weary New Englanders flocked to Smith College to soak in the colors, aromas and textures of the annual flower show. To wit:
This year’s theme, “Monet’s Garden,” contains relevance. The artist had a fondness for working the earth as well as the paint brush. Monet had indicated that aside from painting and gardening, “he wasn’t good at anything.”
It seems that both gardening and painting were a very good fit for him.
“Paradise struggling in parking lot…”
I’m dating myself, well perhaps, but while working in our southern office the other day, Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi came to mind when I saw this young maple [?] proudly gleaming above it’s black top environment.
Grey is Beautiful
As far as I can remember, B&W images have held my imagination firmly, yet inspirationally. Perhaps it’s how my brain’s wired, or the fact that my wired brain is getting older and thus prone to moments of unusual clarity. Maybe it’s about oxygen loss, electrolyte loss or that i’m just losing my mind.
Of late I’m remembering things in B&W, photographically speaking. Faces, places, things and so forth. If I close my eyes and remember an important event, more often than not I believe I can see the memory more clearly if it is, indeed, framed in B&W. I have no scientific explanation or simple rationale as to why, but such is the case. It doesn’t always happen, but when it does, I take notice.
Don’t start thinking that this brief treatise is about black and white being “more real” than color. That’s a tired argument made more exhausting when I’m among other photogs who present their case without first having the benefit of a glass of wine or beer…or both.
Grey in all its incomparable shades, levels of intensity and density and luminance, is a wonderously beautiful color. To me, none of it is boring or trite or conveniently familiar. I embrace the liberty that black and white gives me; everything in front of me is unified. The brigthness or darkness provides the lightness and weight respectively of whatever subject is before you.
The photography of Elliott Erwitt—in particular his series on dogs—is unabashedly “light” in nature. Eisenstadt’s iconic image of sailor-kssing-nurse-in-Times Square becomes a beautiful expression of unbridled joy. Ralph Gibson’s images from his collection, Somnabulist, is a journey alongside light’s texture. Yes, there’s texture from the subjects in his images, but you can feel the intensity of his grey scale, an intensity that pushes one’s comfortable notion of contrast, modeling and depth to another level. Cliche sounding? Yes, but you can prove it to yourself by allowing yourself a different POV. For me, no discussion is complete without mentioning the grandfather of Grey as something beautiful: Ansel Adams. Whether it’s a postcard-sized image or a 30×40-inch print, there’s no denying an evocative appreciation of his creativity and understanding of how he feels for what’s in front of him!
Most of all, I sense that grey gives me an empirical appreciation of my life to date. Here’s what I mean: B&W and all its shades of grey acts as an emotional filter, allowing my most genuine feelings to surface. I can safely feel—whatever such feelings might be—at a “safe distance” yet feel a sense of inclusion, maybe even a connection, with the subject at hand. Remember that “subject’ doesn’t necessarily mean what’s tangible in front of you, but a quality that rises from your persona or sense of self.
I’m taken by grey. It’s so beautiful to me…
Carlo Centeno 