People who start, or work actively for nonprofits tend to have one major thing in common: they want to do some “good”.
That “good” could be anything from rescuing neglected dogs, to helping older people find a safe place for their final years, to digging wells in Malawi, to bringing children to museums, to funding cancer research… but the sentiment is similar at the core. You wouldn’t work to make a difference unless you thought a difference could be made… and not just a difference, but an improvement. That conviction is key to making your investment make sense.
The hardest thing to learn about our convictions, however, is that not everyone shares them — not for the same cause, not for the same reason, not for the same result, and often not enough to do anything about it. And when your heart is deeply invested, it can feel almost offensive when someone else doesn’t see the value.
But it’s not necessarily that they’re being cold or callous.
They’re just not invested in your “good”.
This is where things start to fall apart for many nonprofits:
The assumption that your “good” is, or should be the same good that matters to others.
The assumption that telling the story should do all the work of engaging.
The assumption that the ask should be irresistible because the cause is irresistible.
The assumption that everyone else should care.
Our backgrounds, cultures, priorities, and passions create a unique map in our minds and hearts. What resonates with us has a long journey to get all the way to our emotional core, through biases, beliefs, and sometimes, fear: the fear that we’re investing in the wrong thing, or that what seems compelling right now won’t always matter. Which is why the notion of “good” often fails to go the distance.
The most unsuccessful nonprofits are just as convinced as the successful ones that they’re pursuing an important vision. They dream of solving problems, of helping, of changing things, of moving forward.. all beneficial results. But unlike organizations that make an impact, they assume their passion should guarantee support.
Certainly, there will be donors and supporters who see a light in your eye… and they will invest in that glimmer.
The vast majority, however, need something more.
And frankly, there’s nothing wrong with that. Even if it seems like the existence of a problem should be enough reason to care about the solution, it’s impossible to solve all the problems we see. We have to prioritize where we put our energy, or we’ll never move the needle on anything worthwhile. And those choices often come down to a sense of connection to what an organization does.
Which is why you need to learn about your constituents before you can reach them.
Is there something you do that overlaps with something they already care about?
Can you tell a story they recognize themselves in, or perhaps someone they love?
Is there a simple, practical way they can help — help they might not know you need?
Is there a difficulty they experienced that you’re working to prevent?
Is there an aspect of who you are that isn’t immediately obvious, but would radically change the way they saw you?
How might your brand halo add more shine to theirs?
There’s a lot of resistance to this “ways in” approach among some of the most dedicated people who work for causes, because they see it as an inferior point of connection to altruism. You should want to help. You should see the value intrinsically. You should know it matters. You should take my word for it.
You have to invest deeply to do the job well. And being “all in”? It changes your filters.
But hanging on to the value of your “good” — over the possibilities inherent in developing a whole range of “goods” — won’t advance your mission. And if you’re not advancing your mission, are you really doing the most… good?
Your value isn’t one-note. Your constituents aren’t one-note. Your possibilities aren’t one-note. So why is your call to action?
Maybe it’s time to learn a new tune.
Categories: Nonprofits, Strategy and Management

Lessons learned from the client perspective—our friends at Chorus America share lessons learned during a major website project.
In the fall of 2010, we were lucky enough to be selected by Chorus America—the national service organization for choruses, choral leaders, and singers—to collaborate with them on a complete overhaul of their website. For non-profit membership organizations, websites are crucial. Not only must they communicate value, drive earned and contributed revenue, and market programs and services—they’re also often a primary means of delivering programs and services to the field. We’ve had plenty of experience over the years collaborating with non-profit cultural groups and membership organizations (including Chorus America’s peer in the orchestra world, the League of American Orchestras), and felt confident we were an excellent fit for the project.
We learned many things over the ensuing year, but what really sticks out is how excellent a fit the client was for this project. The team at Chorus America was prepared, hands-on, and ready to roll from the get-go. They understood that a project of this stature requires engagement at the highest levels of their organization, and that they would be partners in crafting the strategy and vision for the new site. Perhaps most importantly, they dug in and took ownership of their content.
Fast forward to earlier this year and the launch of the new Chorus America website. We’re certainly proud of the strategy, information architecture, design, and development work that ultimately led to their new website—one that places Chorus America’s value front and center, and dynamically connects individuals in the field with the information they need to do their jobs, further their careers, and advance their organizations.
But so much of the credit must go to the team at Chorus America, and we encourage anyone considering a major website project to read their story: Once Upon a Website (How Building a Website Can Transform an Organization) shares lessons learned from Chorus America’s point of view. It’s an excellent, honest piece.
Fit matters. And success always takes two.
Categories: Design, Digital Media, Nonprofits

Who would have imagined a graffiti artist, accustomed to using a spray can as his medium of choice, would be converted to a digital media developer, staring down code all day to create custom Drupal themes?
Not me, that’s for sure! Which is why I occasionally need to bring myself back to my urban roots, just to keep my creative juices flowing.
Before I learned how to <?php echo ‘write a bunch of code’; ?>, I was heavily involved in the Boston graffiti art movement in the late 90’s. Typically, you’d find me daily sketching letters in my Cannon hard cover black book, devising color schemes, and putting my fingers through a strenuous workout with a Krylon spray can, comparable to a Shaolin monk’s two finger push-up drill.
Recently, I was invited to participate in creating a graffiti mural for Tightly Laced Kicks, an event that features some of the rarest sneakers from local Boston residents.
Our theme was simple: we wanted to convey the feeling of the days when we painted a mural and there were no fancy panoramic camera features or costly photo editing software to record our productions. All we had were one-time use Kodak disposable cameras, tape, and an Exacto knife for manual cropping of our polished pictures, straight from the CVS image-processing area.
To achieve the look we were going for, we had to paint our pieces as if they were slightly unaligned and taped together (re-creating our portfolio presentations). Outlining a piece cleanly without this effect is hard enough, but creating the displacement effect on our pieces became the largest challenge… aside from the windy conditions, smashed rocky surfaces, and improvising our color schemes on the fly.
Upon completion, the mural turned out to be another rewarding accomplishment. Enjoy the pictures below to see the process of the production.
Categories: Design, Outside the Square

For quite some time I’ve been creating graphic designs and paintings on parallel tracks. My love for painting is actually what got me into studying graphic design (or visual communication) in the first place. When I started out at the Hochschule für Gestaltung in Offenbach, Germany, my intent was to focus on painting. However, I soon realized that I had nothing in common with my fellow students, or with my professor in the fine arts department. During the first year of my studies, a course in Typography was mandatory and I fell in love with the subject matter. So, I ultimately majored in Typography and Illustration.
More than a decade ago, I decided to pursue painting again. Though graphic design and painting are somewhat related, there is a major difference, as a friend of mine once pointed out. She said: “In your design work, you are answering questions, while in your art work, you are posing the question.” I think there is a lot of truth to that. The designs I am developing are rooted in business goals—they need to function as a solution and speak to a wide range of audiences. A painting, on the other hand, does not need to “function” and the immediate audience is more limited—initially myself, for that matter. Unlike the process of design, which is very collaborative, the process of painting is more isolated—in that regard, the two aren’t related at all.
So what happens when a painter, who is also a graphic designer, needs to design “promotional materials” for his own work? Well, it can be a challenge. The graphic designer in me wanted to come up with a ‘cool’ design and the painter in me said: “Hey, wait a minute, the design can’t overshadow the paintings. They need room to breathe… they need to be the focal point.” So after a few debates between me, myself, and I, clean, simple, and functional designs emerged. From the first postcard, to the website, to a business card and exhibit booklets, the same questions arose: how could I best showcase the work, and still convey the information necessary to communicate what it’s for and what it’s all about?
The most recent product in a series of communications for my own artwork is the booklet for an upcoming solo exhibition at Regis College. Hot off the Puritan Press, I’m holding the first samples in my hand, and I dare to say… the painter is happy with the work the designer delivered.
Categories: Design, Outside the Square

I came across an interesting concept while reading an interview of British designer, Pearce Marchbank: the notion that all preexisting design serves as a background for design that is to come.
When asked if Marchbank had free rein as art director of magazine, Time Out, he responded:
“Almost totally. The covers were left very much to me. I deliberately avoided obvious subjects, which you get now so much. Nicole Kidman has a new film out, so she is on the cover of every consumer magazine—and on the news-stand there are 99 Nicole Kidmans. My approach was to make all the other magazines on the shelves act as our background… The totally bare, green ‘Jealousy’ cover was probably the most minimalist, slated by everyone on the business side, but not after it became an instant sell-out.”
Marchbank’s approach to magazine cover design with Time Out was a clever one. The dense visual clutter on magazine stands served as a departure point for unique design.
By looking ahead to the final context for the piece, Marchbank could intentionally create highly designed, conceptual covers that took advantage of the dominant visual paradigm to stand apart from the myriad of other publications. The four magazine covers above would certainly stick out on a modern magazine stand—the imagery and supporting typography would be jarring next to an issue of Cosmopolitan.
An XKCD comic, sent around by one of our developers Jeff, illustrates another side of the idea in terms of branding. In this case, the cluttered landscape of the market aisle served as a departure point for ‘undesign.’ As consumers, we are familiar with over-designed products–so much so, that when a product goes against the normal visual context, it really stands out.
In our world, where the visual culture is rapidly progressing, it can be difficult to digest all the imagery we are bombarded with. I’m not always able to pinpoint what appeals to my senses or what grabs my interest… but I know it when I see it. Is it something unique? Cutting edge? Conceptually driven? Or does it just look cool?
While I continue to ask these questions of my own work, I’ve started to consider a new one. What design decisions can I make to intuitively react to my work’s context? Though the concept should always be the driving force behind design, careful consideration of its context can lead to the creation of something really compelling.
Categories: Design, Outside the Square

The branding world has been buzzing lately with commentary on the rollout of JCPenney’s new logo.
At Sametz Blackstone, we’ve been excited to see a brand employing the concept of synecdoche* in this new mark: using a part to represent the whole. It’s a design that is fresh, punchy, and a little edgy; a bold move that works effectively to turn around the retailer’s previously stodgy reputation.
My high school did something similar a few years ago. Miss Porter’s School is an all-girls boarding and day school in Farmington, CT. Aware of a misperception that it was still a 1950’s-style “finishing school,” MPS leveraged the concept of synecdoche and entirely dropped the “Miss” and the “School” from their mark. (Insider’s note: “Porter’s” is what alumnae of my era call Miss Porter’s, while “Farmington” is how older generations refer to the school.)
While the name is still formally “Miss Porter’s School”—and that phrase appears somewhere on all materials, both print and digital—the new mark is an effective, high impact vehicle for communicating the character of the school today, while still recognizing a strong sense of place and history.
One final example (though very recently rendered obsolete): the Toronto Blue Jays former logo. A new version was unveiled in 2011, which incorporates the team’s full name, but the last incarnation (the second below) was a fun and evocative mark for the “Jays.” While the new logo has been hailed as a design success, the old edition was perfectly—and pithily—on point… thanks to synecdoche.
*Synecdoche: a figure of speech by which a part is put for the whole (as fifty sail for fifty ships), the whole for a part (as society for high society), the species for the genus (as cutthroat for assassin), the genus for the species (as a creature for a man), or the name of the material for the thing made (as boards for stage). -Merriam-Webster Dictionary
Categories: Branding, Design, Strategy and Management

I wrote several months ago about the plight of the “adopster“: the early adopter who ditches social platforms once the digital riff raff (read: people who don’t work in the technology / digital / social / marketing space) arrive.
For the past month or so, however, I’ve been witnessing (yet another) resurgence of a different behavior — a behavior that seems to be the perfect inverse of the “adopster” phenomenon: the pathological social media marketer… or as I like to call them, the “sociopath.”
Oh, wait… that’s an actual term?
Okay, okay: a “socialmediopath.”
The socialmediopath is that hard-to-ignore mover and shaker who sees dollar signs wherever people gather online. It’s not a new set of behaviors, but it never stops being… annoying.
And right now, they’re all hanging out on Pinterest: the not-so-new (since 2008) virtual pinboard service that encourages users to curate collections of images and links from across the web that map to certain themes or interests, in a highly visual format. You can find them pinning and liking and commenting everywhere, smiling voraciously at their fellow users with Tony Robbins teeth and a flinty glint in their eye.
I love Pinterest, but socialmediopaths love Pinterest.
Love love it.
And even if it has been around since 2008, they’ve just noticed it… as with the teenage boy who grows a foot during the summertime, and is suddenly the captain of the basketball team come September.
Now, before you remind me that I help clients use social platforms to build their businesses and communicate with their customers, I should be clear that I’m not referring to people who use social media as part of an integrated marketing plan, or as part of a thoughtful strategy for their customer service, engagement, or marketing. This is something I do, and something many of my friends do (and they do it well!) We have the responsibility to keep our eyes open for what might work for a particular client, and to give new (or newish) opportunities a spin — otherwise, we’re just not doing our jobs (as my good friend, Shelly, astutely pointed out the other day.)
I’m also not talking about the people who have expertise in a particular type of platform and can speak thoughtfully to how a particular tool compares to similar ones, and who the ideal or typical user might be… according to their experience and whatever data is available.
No, a “socialmediopath” is the person who dives on a new opportunity — especially if it’s unproven — and…
These people make me tired.
Not because we don’t all have the right to make money where money can be made. No, it’s because following their thoughts and counsel becomes remarkably similar to keeping tabs on a 13 year-old girl’s crushes.
There’s a new infatuation every single day, and IT’S SERIOUS THIS TIME and THIS IS THE ONE YOU’VE BEEN DREAMING OF… regardless of the fact that they say that every time (and there’s always a cute new beta around the corner.)
Pinterest has been a particularly egregious obsession for socialmediopaths, in part because it gained popularity among non-power users of social media (read: your friend from high school with the flip phone) before many of even the most fervent adopsters realized what was happening. And while that’s great news for businesses or organizations that can effectively use Pinterest as part of their digital / social strategy, it also makes it ripe for exploitation.
So is it right for you, this Pinterest? Maybe.
Your business is unique. Your customers are unique. Your goals are unique. Your needs are unique. And as such, the recipe that feeds all of those unique aspects of who you are and what you do is going to involve a lot of different ingredients, in the right measure, at the right time. You try, you track, you tweak, you track some more… and you see what happens. And then you do it again. Which is what smart marketers do, anyway, come rain or shine.
Of course, none of this reasonable behavior means that you can’t get excited about adding a shiny new tool to your toolbox.
(… but maybe keep the hammer away from the socialmediopath.)
Categories: Uncategorized

Categories: Design
