The Deed

As they say, the deed is done.

The new site has gone live. I think it's fair to say that if we were our own client, we'd be hissing.

Love the site, every single thing, now, can we just...cue tweakage.

You can see for yourself. And, if you are of the keeping every thing up to date variety, you can go ahead and scrap this feed.

As our parting gift, an innocuous link that pokes fun at designers and their friends.





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Now, *that's* an award

On the heels of our Nori celebration, we find ourselves pondering awards.

Future contests to enter, sure, but even more intriguing, awards to hand out.

Best dilution of a message.

Best vanillazation of a concept.

Best creative hemorrhage.

Best logo hijack.

Best wow-who-knew-it-could-be-ruined-quite-so-comprehensively.

And for the Best in Show equivalent, the award for most consistently undervaluing the creative process and diminishing the worth of your own campaign by assuming you can do it better.

Bitter much?

Nah, only when we know how badly a worthwhile organization has shot itself in the foot.

#YouCanLeadAHorseToWater




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Come on Feel the Noris

Yep, we're going to the Albany Ad Club's Nori Awards.

Yeah, we scanned the list from the front—



to the very back.



We know some of you didn't enter.

Others aren't keeping track.

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The proof is in the hits;
whether that means visits to this blog
or creative that does the job.


See you June 5th (or not).

Forgetiquette

We preach risk taking, or at least risk trying. We say things like, "If you don't stand out, where do you stand?"



And yet, call it a throwback to etiquette, some of our most wickedly delicious ideas for self-promotion go unshared. Or even just blog posts. The snark. The cattiness. The restraint we demonstrate.

I mean, we gave you Papyr-annoyance, but we didn't share the post, which sits as a legitimate draft in our cue, that goes a little something like, "Colored spectacle frames do not a creative make."

Then there's the Ultimate Design Rant Showdown that has in the left corner, weighing in at an impossible-to-quantify-level-of-professional-agony: Microsoft Publisher.

And in the right corner, decked out in head-to-toe, "Look, ma, I used the Photo Shop filter myself ," a logo created by a client's wife's stepson's girlfriend.

Cutting through this exceedingly dense exposition, we're done.

No more pussy footing around it. No more staidness for the sake of who-knows-what, or who.

They say we're too young. Fine, I'll take it after getting "Ma'am(ed)" one time too many at Hannaford.

They say Glens Falls is too little. Done, keep the congestion and queues.

They say we're too expensive. Between office-in-my-garage and mahogany and glitz-windowed excess, we're sitting just right.

They'll do it themselves. Have at it.


We're Tramps, whether we're your Tramps or not doesn't change the who or the how of our process.

What it will change is whether or not you have us working for you, or for your competition, instead.




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Hi, I'm Papyrus. I am not your friend.

Enough is enough.

Despite our call to arms back in 2007, the typeface is still in circulation, perhaps even gaining popularity. This nearly illegible font is used, time and again, on billboards, menus, and packaging throughout our region.

This is upstate New York, people. Not Egypt.







Still not convinced?





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We've all been there

It's safe to say we've all been guilty of the odd typo or printing glitch— I once sent an email saying that I would "ass it along." And, just like the excruciating mix of discomfort and amusement you experience during awkward movie scenes, there is a thrill when you catch one not of your making. This particular grammatical hiccup was enlivened by uncanny ad placement.

Here it is for your catty pleasure.










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True story:

So we're up on-property for this gigantic photo-shoot, a 3-day affair at the Sagamore. Mid-afternoon on day one, the shot is in Trillium, the resort's flagship restaurant. A while back, Trampoline worked with the executive committee up at the hotel to reposition Trillium, in order to make the spectacular dining room feel a little more inviting.

Between shots, while the photographer's assistants were repositioning and light-metering, I sidled up to the head waiter, who was looking on with interest. I asked what time they opened, nervous that the afternoon was slipping away.

"Six" he replied. Plenty of time.

Always curious about the effect of design on business, I asked if they'd been busy this summer.

"Yes" he replied. Apparently not a man of many words.

"So," I pressed, "I mean, busier than in the past? See, our company designed the new mark and message for Trillium, and I'm curious if the image and the ads are working."

"Eric Cartman?" He asked.

Now I'm lost. "Um, huh?"

"Eric Cartman!" he blurted. "Y'know, from South Park. Hey Bill," he elbows the barkeep, "this guy here did Cartman."

The bartender guffaws and keeps wiping glasses. Obviously there's an inside joke, and I'm pretty sure I'm the butt of it. As the photo shoot resumes, the headwaiter grabs a menu and explains himself.

"The logo looks just like Cartman when you turn it like this." he said, animated. "I even drew little arms and legs on him once."

A minute ago I couldn't get this man to string two words together and now he won't shut up.




I dunno dude. That looks like a stretch to me. What do you think?


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Poor, Pitiful Papyrus

CAUTION: Design Rant, dead ahead.

We do business in the Adirondacks of New York State. The region is full of log home builders, fishing guides, lumberjacks, beauticians, jewelers, orthodontists, and street performers—all using the same font to help position themselves as earthy and accessible: Papyrus.

This has to stop. Paging through local publications, we see the same tired approach time and time again. It's tough to watch.

Sometimes the same folks use a "Got Milk" knock-off for their ad campaign. Or try to duplicate the Mastercard "Priceless" approach—but that's another rant altogether.

Papyrus is a bit of a thing in the office. We all have our own design pet peeves. Sean doesn't like letterspaced lower case letters. Derek is offended by coated paper, Trina hates off-the-shelf patterns, Raeanne has a conspiracy theory involving Pantone colors, but we all pretty-much agree that Papyrus is overused, and bad to begin with.

And should be phased out immediately.

At which point Zapfino will assume the role of horribly-designed-yet-incredibly-asscessible, and overused, typeface.