"Ways of Seeing" by John Berger is a fascinating book detailing different forms of art, their traditions, and what they each embody and inspire today. In it, there is a captivating chapter about the relationship between art and advertising.
According to Berger, all commercials compete with each other, but together, when addressing the working middle class, make up a “language” that makes the same general proposal: That we can transform ourselves for the better by buying an additional product. By showing us the “end result” of someone who has already been “transformed,” glamour is created because that person is envied.
Social envy is the necessity that drives a capitalist society. The American Dream and the pursuit of happiness have been universally acknowledged, but attainment of those things has become difficult because of existing social standards and ideals. The individual lives in a constant contradiction between who he is and who he wishes he could be--the worker and the consumer. Thus, he succumbs to envy of others who are glamorized, and publicity exploits it.
Publicity images belong in the moment--they never speak of the present. They sell the past to the future. But because publicity cannot focus on the present, it cannot supply itself the standards of its own claims (p. 139). Art is a sign of wealth and it “belongs to the cultural heritage; it is a reminder of what it means to be a cultivated European” (p. 135). This is why ads tend to mimic famous artwork in pictorial likeness and language. This relationship is evident in any ad that borrows its image from a well-known work of art to give the impression that it, too, is important and credible. These visual references in publicity may not be complete--indeed, they may even be meaningless--but it’s that sense of familiarity and reminiscence they breed in the buyer where the conviction prowess of publicity lies. Mannequins in stores mimic the positions of famous historical or mythological figures, ads copy materials used to depict a lavish lifestyle in Renaissance paintings, even the physical posture of men to denote power is universal (p. 138).
Shortly after American Apparel launched their “School Days” campaign, disgusted objections of concerned parents erupted all over the Internet. The “back to school” clothing line consisted of suggestively short plaid skirts and revealing sheer blouses, a contemporary play on the classic school uniform, complete with inappropriate photos of girls wearing the product bending completely forward with their bums showing. A few products were named “Lolita,” a reference to Vladimir Nabokov’s novel, in which an older man becomes pervertedly obsessed with a nymphet. The controversy remained, even after the company had taken the photo(s) down, after being accused of exploitation and sexualization of young girls, and for encouraging the objectification of women. By borrowing sexuality from a popular culture icon, the company was successfully conveying to consumers, unsatisfied with themselves, that in buying this product they too will become attractive to older, sexually mature men.
The efficacy of publicity isn’t in the real fulfillment of its promises, but in the relevance of its fantasies to those of the buyer. Publicity applies to daydreams, not necessarily reality. There is a gap between what ads actually offer and the future they promise, but it is filled by the consumer’s desire to become better. His dreams are already there; all publicity does is suggest they can come true. Borrowing credibility from popular icons captures the consumer’s attention with something familiar and yet different--newer, sexier. And this unconscious connection leads the consumer to believe he is purchasing something of serious cultural value, something transcendental.
