MARK DOUGLASS: An Introduction
You and I don’t know one another. I shouldn’t be telling you this.
But – you clicked on something somewhere (probably re: Mark Douglass on LinkedIn) and now you’re going to get more than you probably wanted- something weird. I’m 30% ridiculous, but roughly 70% deadly serious. I’m some part raccoon (always getting into stuff), some part spiritual hermit (with a hair-trigger conscience), some part academic (graduate degree, writer, educator), and some part Reformed Scots-Irish Appalachian hillbilly Texan (I like to fight about things for no good reason, over whisky)- but I make a living as a creative communications and culture guy. I think the high school version of myself would be most pleased that this is my life, but that would (should?) give the quite aged version of me some pause.
Likes & Dislikes
I like words. Specifically, I like the writing of words – not the speaking of words. Because -I deeply enjoy ideas. I like metaphors because some things are so true that they can’t be spoken of without using figurative language. Corporate hierarchies and protocols make me yawn – LinkedIn makes me nauseous – but I’m here for it. I hate snakes because snakes make me run into trees. Milk makes me regret milk.
Speaking of regrets, I regret our collective digital life. There- I said it. I loathe the euphoria surrounding AI and I’m thrilled about the coming (I think inevitable) mass rejection of all the social media platforms and feeds and plug-ins and authenticators. I find ‘suspect’ whatever isn’t authentic and true and human or able to commune with the Eternal God in Heaven. I’m not just a late adopter – marketing researchers would code me a: non-adopter. I know it sounds like I am also a crusty, contrarian, grump – and this simply isn’t the case. Or. It isn’t entirely the case.
Let’s leave regrets alone for now. I adore things. I really do.
I love cigarettes but never smoke. I’m crazy in love with my wife of many decades- and my offspring -those who sprang off of us -out of us? (curious word, offspring, don’t you think?) A cathedral with vaulted ceilings and sunlight through stained glasswork – people wearing sweaters and singing hymns is right up there with a long walk in the brisk air in autumn. With a dog- there must be a dog. I’m mad for all these things. And tacos – the ultimate food delivery system. Babies with chubby arms. Little boys that crash into one another and crack heads and scowl at the others while their sweaty matted hair sticks to their foreheads. Little girls twirling. Tablecloths. Yes. I hadn’t thought about it until just this moment, but I think a table should be covered. What are we – animals?
On Creativity & Communicating to Humans
And that brings me to the wickedness of saying something extremely important in an uninspiring way. People ought to face incarceration for boring others. That should be a constitutional amendment. What are we up to, now, twenty-eight amendments? How many hours have we been robbed by a dispassionate delivery or muddled sales pitch? Revolting repetition. Cloudy copy. Digital detritus. The brute force attack of sludge and slop on the platforms to try and game the algorithms – all crimes against humanity. Outrageous. Something must be done.
But enough about me. Here is a thing that seems true at face value: Creativity involves novelty and usefulness.
For something to be “truly creative”, according to a view attributed to popular psychologist Jordan Peterson, it should be both novel and useful. This implies creativity isn’t just about generating original ideas but also about finding practical applications for them. He says, ‘If you’re a business with difficult problems you can’t solve – you want creative people who think laterally and land in places you can’t.’ He said this in Ottawa – a city I like to say loudly at restaurants, but have never visited.
That’s why we started this Fidelis Creative Agency a decade ago.
We like unusual business problems – the harder the better. We like to fight through to understanding and gin up legitimate insights. We think brands should look right, sound great, and all that should help them drive revenue (marketing). So – we mostly ask questions in the beginning. Workshops are how we get our bearings – but then, we’re off to the races. If we need more research, we can get more research. If we need to weld metal together, we can weld metal together. If we need to find a blind poetess from the 19th century from a particular county so we can name a hotel after her poem about the sun and moon – we can do that. If we need to burn wood or break glass or drive six hours to get that one shot – we do it. That’s the brilliant question underpinning creative life – what unusual thing would be a great answer to this difficult problem? Does it really work, is there something else we can do? That’s not quite fun enough! Push it further. Punch it, Cleetus.
