Taking the premium golf brand into the realm of luxury goods. With the help of London fashion photographer Richard Foster and a custom made mercury mirror, we aimed to make these products as desirable visually, as they are technologically.
Wednesday, 11 March 2009
Callaway Golf 2009
Taking the premium golf brand into the realm of luxury goods. With the help of London fashion photographer Richard Foster and a custom made mercury mirror, we aimed to make these products as desirable visually, as they are technologically.
Tuesday, 10 February 2009
a shotopop is born
I am proud to have constructed the wording on the beautiful new site of the uber-talented Casper & Carin at Shotopop . Keep it up guys, make more pretties and I'll write more wtf's! :)
Wednesday, 21 January 2009
We got a winner!
30” TVC
We open on a guy driving down a city street in an [insert car name]. He opens his door while doing about 22mph and rolls out onto the sidewalk. A German Sheppard runs past the rolling man and jumps into the moving car. Just when the dog gets the car under control the boot pops open and a tied up man in a suit screams (in a Spanish accent) “Hey, look at de boot!”
A dozen white fluffy bunnies performs the final part of the “Thriller – Michael Jackson” dance sequence in the road and the car screeches to a halt to avoid hitting them. As a result of the sudden braking the passenger seat airbag pops open and the words “TA DA!” is written on it in a comic style.
The camera pulls back to reveal that this is all a movie being projected on a wall and a Japanese man in a white coat steps forward and says (in sign language): “And this was all done on 0.45 gallons of petrol. Any questions?”
Camera turns to the crowd to reveal a classroom of zoo animals staring back at him.
[car logo] with packshot.
We open on a guy driving down a city street in an [insert car name]. He opens his door while doing about 22mph and rolls out onto the sidewalk. A German Sheppard runs past the rolling man and jumps into the moving car. Just when the dog gets the car under control the boot pops open and a tied up man in a suit screams (in a Spanish accent) “Hey, look at de boot!”
A dozen white fluffy bunnies performs the final part of the “Thriller – Michael Jackson” dance sequence in the road and the car screeches to a halt to avoid hitting them. As a result of the sudden braking the passenger seat airbag pops open and the words “TA DA!” is written on it in a comic style.
The camera pulls back to reveal that this is all a movie being projected on a wall and a Japanese man in a white coat steps forward and says (in sign language): “And this was all done on 0.45 gallons of petrol. Any questions?”
Camera turns to the crowd to reveal a classroom of zoo animals staring back at him.
[car logo] with packshot.
Wednesday, 4 June 2008
A diary of journey
The sun goes back to where happiness sets up hearts and strike us down with harsh words and glitter promises. She’s lost on her paradise island while I mourn lost friends and sit here amazed at the bright past of broken memories.
I make up dreams of yesterday and wish my life was as fucked up as I remember
cause maybe then I might be that big star trapped in my head.
And as the curtain blows up the shape of a dancing bride, I wonder if the answer is being married to the wind. Cause if no one knows your address, it’s hard to get your heartache in the mail.
If you’re not a friend in a foreign place, you’re a stranger in your own skin. So here’s another pint, let’s get that alien out of your head. It’s thoughts like that that make me like you less. And these days we all have to take what we can get. There’s a darkness rolling in. A cloud’s approaching and I wanna be packed and ready when the questions start.
I’ve heard of it in the whispers of a free man and saw it bleeding off of the maps of the lost. There’s grass and fields and more than enough. We could start it there and get it right this time...
But the story of my life is a catalogue of re-run new beginnings.
I make up dreams of yesterday and wish my life was as fucked up as I remember
cause maybe then I might be that big star trapped in my head.
And as the curtain blows up the shape of a dancing bride, I wonder if the answer is being married to the wind. Cause if no one knows your address, it’s hard to get your heartache in the mail.
If you’re not a friend in a foreign place, you’re a stranger in your own skin. So here’s another pint, let’s get that alien out of your head. It’s thoughts like that that make me like you less. And these days we all have to take what we can get. There’s a darkness rolling in. A cloud’s approaching and I wanna be packed and ready when the questions start.
I’ve heard of it in the whispers of a free man and saw it bleeding off of the maps of the lost. There’s grass and fields and more than enough. We could start it there and get it right this time...
But the story of my life is a catalogue of re-run new beginnings.
Monday, 21 April 2008
Boo
Sure I've seen ghosts, haven't we all? It's scary because it's a portrayal of half a being. An opague image that suggest that the other half has transcended, stepped through, knows what's on the other side. Yet there is something very natural about ghosts, they almost seem absorbed by the energy field of the earth itself. That is why apparitions in outer space are something altogether different. But the one thing that made me realize with immediate clarity that ghosts are purely (and I say purely and not merely because they can still feel extremely scary) a projection of the witness's subconscious, is the clothes they wear.
Hollywood picked the glowing white frocks for apparitions, but most other accounts can describe the wardrobe with vivid accuracy. Did the ghosts choose it's wardrobe? Is it the fate of every spirit to be stuck with the garb it died in? (hopefully a nice cardigan and a pair of comfortable loafers rather than a smelly two day old jock strap and black wool socks) Is there a big old clothes rack in the sky? What does a spirit fashion stylist charge by the eternity? These are the type of questions that at once invalidate and dispel the idea of ghosts. But if it is true and the clothes maketh the monstrosity, I hope they have a pinstripe Cavali from the summer '04 collection in a "42 waiting for me...
- Russo
Friday, 25 January 2008
the lonely shallow tree
Thank you to Casper for his first contribution to the cacophony that is my blog. Love you man. (but in the man-love kinda way...) *uhmm...
nevermind
The wilderness beyond: ep.1
We've been fishing for what must feel like four months now and it just keeps getting better. Sean pulled out a monster just before noon and we had it over the open fire for lunch. This is nature at its finest.A bear came wandering into our camp just before sunrise. I awoke instantly, an instinctive reaction to its smell. That smell. Honey, salmon offal and fear. You never forget that smell. Now this was a most curious thing, seeing as we were camping in Africa, with not a bear in at least a thousand miles! "It must have came from the circus", said Sean. And as we sat there huddled in the upper branches of a giant beechwood tree, belly laughing at his comment, a clown came by and took the beast away.
-by Russo
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