Men of Stamina, Women who Dare
Opening speech.
It’s a tremendous privilege to open the Advertising exhibition from the Rare
books collection at Monash… and also something of an embarrassment. Until two
months ago I had no idea of the riches stored in the collection and most
importantly how all of it is valued — there is no judgmental shift in value: from
the highly prized cultural artefact to ephemeral popular culture, it is all treated
with the same sense of validity.
And so it should be.
Advertising is a mirror to how we think, act, speak and behave.
This exhibition represents an archive of over 100 years of popular ideas and
ways of thinking. Humorous and even embarrassing as these ideas may appear at
times, advertising is simply a reflection of popular contemporary though.
Blatantly sexist or racist imagery and commentary, appalling as we now read it,
simply reflected a period where these ideas where commonly subscribed to.
Advertisers do not, nor have they ever set about to offend or place its audience
off-side. This would be contrary to their very purpose: to appeal to the
aspirations and desires of its material hungry public.
With old advertising we do tend to look nostalgically on collections like these,
charmed by their retro-aesthetic appeal. We may even raise a smile at the genius
copywriting. Thank god for the Atomic Bomb is a personal favourite, as is The girl
behind the man behind the gun. Both unthinkable pieces of text now, but in the
40s and 50s this reflected an extraordinary reality. During WWII, women did
undertake traditional male roles, including arms manufacture, and the Atomic
Bomb was the ultimate product from the modern manipulation of science and
genius.
I understand there was some debate about the inclusion of cigarette advertising
in this exhibition; but to leave it out would amount to censoring a lived reality.
Only those born after the ‘90s may have lived a life bereft of cigarette smoke, but
for the majority of the rest of us; sweeping away clouds of smoke was part of our
daily existence. Cigarette companies were amongst the most prolific and lavish of
advertisers, creating some of the strongest brand statements of their time. Even
in an age of olive-green ambiguity the deconstructed image of Benson and
Hedges still retains extraordinary recognition, such was the power of identity
advertisers were able to impose on their brands. It was also a cunning way to
circumvent the beginnings of legislation banning the reproduction of cigarette
brands in print media and at sporting events.
Advertisers were also able to introduce a broad public to the currency of modern
art. European Modernism was syphoned into the Australian consciousness
through advertising, and especially magazine advertising. The elegant slender
lines of art deco in the P&O ad, right through to the post war prosperity of
primary coloured and patterned Formica in the Pepsi ad, demonstrate how
advertising was able persuade its audience towards a particular lifestyle as much
as the products that apparently enhanced it. These wher the lifestyles we aspired
to; the product, be it as humble as Pepsi, could bring us closer to realising it.
This collection also demonstrates a distinctive shift in Australia’s cultural
allegiance over a hundred-year history. All things British were once de riguer:
Liberty Fabrics; the Carbolic Smoke Ball; Enos indigestion medicine. The
Hollywood invasion of the ‘20s would begin to erode this as demonstrated by
Delores Del Rio endorsing Lucky Strike. But, by the end of WWII the mutiny was
complete: England was a war-shattered relic, dowdy and old fashioned; America
was victorious, modern, progressive, young, vibrant… just like all the coke ads
we see in the exhibition. The murky tones and excessively florid language of the
old Anglo-centric ads were replaced by bright daring colours, idealised TV-like
family units, and short, snappy catch phrases.
This exhibition also presents us a history of the future: the beginnings of
portable modernity… that thing we now can’t live without: music, entertainment
and contact in our pocket, began many years ago.
GE’s portable TV and National’s Take-n-Tape and Sing-o-Ring set a cracking pace
for independent entertainment that could be severed from the constraints of one
room, and the notion of having to share your pleasure. And the ‘80s Telstra
mobile phone ad has me convinced phones were only designed that big to
balance out the hair and shoulder pads.
And one final observation: Advertising gave us that one thing we have come to
recognise as the ultimate product enhancement: the celebrity endorsement.
Delores, Kylie, David Beckham and of course Susan Peacock… (Sangster, Renouf)
have all made us believe that if we buy what they use, we will in some way be
closer to being as fabulous as they are. It doesn’t take much more than a bit of
commitment and a few props: a cigarette, a dab of cheap perfume and slide
between the Sheridan sheets; David on one side, Susan on the other. I’m sure
that’s someone’s fantasy somewhere…
I would like to thank Richard for the opportunity to write the catalogue essay
and open the exhibition, but most importantly to open my eyes to the wealth of
riches that lie in the rows of 1960s compactus out the back. The Rare Books
Collection is to be commended for seeing worth in the everyday and value in its
preservation.
Gene Bawden.