All that Glitters

Fallon McElligott's Bob Barrie and Gyro's Steve Grasse face off on award shows.

Are ad awards a true measure of creative excellence, or are they an expensive addiction that should be kicked? Fallon McElligott's Bob Barrie and Gyro's Steve Grasse face off on the issue. Also, Ann Cooper exposes "fake" ads made just to grab awards, and we chart the highlights and low lights of the major shows. Awards. Whos needs 'em? Bob Barrie art director at Fallon McElligott, Minneapolis, says the whole industry does. Steven Grasse, president of Gyro, Philadelphia, says shows should be shunned. Also, Ann Cooper exposes "bogus" ads, and we chart the shows.

Barrie: I've been asked to defend advertising award shows, and, I have to admit, it's something that I'm not entirely comfortable with.

Maybe it's because criticizing award shows is the easiest endeavor known to admen. Just look at the glee with which my esteemed colleague goes after them in the accompanying anti-award-show article.

Maybe it's because advertising publications like this one often seem to give the same prominence to the lame shows (you know which ones they are) that they give to the great shows.

Maybe it's because an award show that isn't the Oscar of advertising is known by your mother as The Oscar of Advertising.

Maybe it's because award shows keep springing up each year when it would be more productive if old award shows kept dying off each year.

Maybe it's because I've been in this business 16 years and am still terrified that everyone will discover I'm a complete hack and use the results of the last award show to prove it.

Maybe it's because so much of my agency's early fame came from its performance in award shows, and I feel awkward having to defend something that is such an integral part of the culture.

Maybe it's because, with the exception of two or three national shows and the relevant local shows, the awards industry embarrasses me. You see, I too believe most award shows suck.

But there's that handful of shows that still get my adrenaline pumping when I hear an ad I worked on will be reduced to three inches high and grace a page in their annual. They are the shows that every agency I respect enters, and they are judged by people I would love to work with.

And those few shows continue to provoke and confuse and anger many people, but they also challenge and prod and inspire many, many more.

They allow tiny agencies to compete with behemoth agencies with only raw creativity as a criterion, not the ability to purchase the most expensive lunch.

They serve as a great recruiting tool for those few for whom great ads are still more important than a fast buck.

They celebrate print advertising not as a medium for those unfortunates who get no TV assignments, but as the ultimate test of a creative's craftsmanship.

And they expose creatives and account folk alike to dazzling work which they would never have seen unless they lived in San Francisco. Or Cleveland. Or Oslo.

As a result, the creative output of our entire industry is better. Maybe 1% better, Maybe 50% better. I don't really know or care. It's just better. I truly believe this.

And that's why I agreed to defend award shows.

Grasse: Hey there, young hipster, put down that entry form for a second and take a good long think about what you're doing. Do you really want to enter that award show? Do you really want to throw another 120 bucks away? Do you really want to win another cheesy statue and eat another bad dinner?

Do you really want to waste any more of your valuable time writing and art directing phony ads for barber shops that don't really exist?

While you're at it, do you really want to have your work judged by a bunch of "creative guys" you wouldn't be caught dead hanging out with on a Saturday night? And, do you really want to have your work reprinted in a book that no one but those "creative guys" will ever read?

The answer is obviously "no."

Award shows are so '80s. So glare. So big, fat and bloated. So San Francisco. Or worse yet, so Minneapolis.

Let's face it, award shows totally, absolutely and utterly suck.

Yet you keep on entering. Why? I'll tell you why: because you're scared. Scared you'll fall into a downward spiral of obscurity and low self-esteem. Yet nothing could be further from the truth.

Since GYRO stopped entering award shows two years ago, we've seen our fortunes rise and our work get better. At least, I think it's better; it hasn't been officially "judged" to be better by some "creative guy" at some big agency in New York or, worse yet, Minneapolis.

In 1993 we won 17 awards -- nine Golds and eight Silvers in the Philadelphia Art Directors Club -- the same year Wieden & Kennedy won eight Golds and nine Silvers. We spent $20,000 on entering. Then when Wieden closed its Philadelphia office and pulled out, everything fell apart and it was no longer fun.

Shunning award shows has had a liberating effect on our humble agency. We're no longer slaves to the process. We no longer write ads the way they need to be written to win awards. We experiment. Do all kinds of crazy shit.

And you know, it really works. You'd be surprised how many big companies we get into because our work is genuinely different from everyone else's. And it's different because we don't enter award shows. (You notice I don't say it's better than everyone else's, just different.)

Of course, the other thing banning ourselves from award shows has done is save us a lot of money. And we've put that money to good use, too.

Initially some staff protested our not entering (we have 13 on staff, 6 creative), so we decided to give the money we saved back to our creatives in the form of $ 10,000 grants.

The objective of our program is threefold: (1) stimulate unbridled and original creative thinking, (2) promote employee loyalty and (3) experiment with areas outside advertising.

Gyro retains 60% ownership of each project (just in case it turns a profit). The remaining percentage goes to the individual creative person. We've introduced several projects under our grant program so far, including our own magazine. It's called Highball and it's rotten to the core. In fact, Barbara Lippert recently told us it was "next to the worst magazine ever made," which to us was a resounding endorsement.

We've also produced several independent record releases for staff members in local alternative bands and are helping to raise the cash for an independent feature film written by one of our art directors.

Of course, the point of all this is, whether you work for a big: agency or are one of the legions of new creative-only shops with weird names (which sound a lot like Gyro, hmm), you don't have to be a slave to all those stupid award shows. There are viable alternatives to finding creative fulfillment and getting your name known. Our solution may or may not be yours. Find your own path to enlightenment. Flipping your finger to the award show establishment won't make you disappear from the face of the earth. It will make it easier to get out of bed in the morning and proud to be alive.

Awards are an awfully strong addiction. It takes guts to kick it, but you'll be glad you did.