The Business
There's a local group who run pubs, hotels and restaurants. Their brand is different. You can be more than, less than, or different from, and different is my sort of positioning.
Their tone of voice is warm, their visual identity eclectic and rich, but characterised by the humans who run it enough for it to make sense in an endearing way. They're a small group o people at its core who aren't afraid to try things, be playful, welcoming and humble, yet strong in their vision, and it makes a refreshing change to the sameness of bigger chains. So in the shadow of those nationwide high street names who are more than, they are not less than, but different from. And so they grow. It's welcome in this city which, like most in this economic climate, is in a fight for its soul as the wealth gap widens.
Walking back past one venue this afternoon, I thought about the daily affairs of the people running this group, and recognised something valuable about running a business with multiple manifestations. I imagined them moving from outpost to the next, ensuring things were good on the ground, then retreating to some base, taking care of another aspect, be it work on the website, contractor affairs, branding, overall long-term steer of the company, and so on.
That's when I realised that my houses are not in order. I've spread my focus too thin, and instead of taking care of each 'venue', I've been too hasty in opening new one after new one. Illustration, for example, would have been my first venue. That was the profession I studied. I became an illustrator and the place thrived with regulars and occassional clientele. Then when that frustrated me in quiet spells beyond my control, I began to write about the experience. And on the side I ran a music 'agency' for want of a better term for the creative vehicle through which I put on club nights and supported bands alongside Dirty Freud. So, a little less time went into illustration upkeep because by now I had a competent agent at my back. As these exploits grew – podcast, books, lecturing, fiction collections, art direction on films – I ran after the next thing, and the next thing. Not with total abandon, but with enough gusto that I failed to employ a manager for any of the new venues. I didn't go back often enough to make new signs or websites, to carry out the upkeep required to achieve the consistency I see in this local group's endeavours. And so dust settled and most people moved on, or walked past. Customers amble by and make impulsive purchases here and there, but no marketing strategy brings more to form a stream. People remember that you do that thing, but it's not a part of the world they inhabit with any regularly.
And so, only some of the venues serve the bigger beast. But here, in this new moment of clarity after a period of overwhelm, I'm carrying out an audit on my many practices, taking small steps to design a puzzle in which the pieces fit. Where one activity informs the next, and overall, when people see those manifestations of a bigger idea, they know it's mine, and it might just make them feel enough to go and tell a friend. I care about all of my artistic practices, but alone, I am unable to maximise the potential of them in isolation. It becomes a hollistic challenge to unify and make each a part of a tapestry I, and my audience, can understand.
Small steps, steady gains.