More than ten people sent me the first of these images. It went viral for a few hours. At least it’s funny. But there is one detail to keep in mind. Its viralization makes it more or less successful. From some point of view, the route by which a message reaches the largest possible number of readers is the correct one. What made it popular was the amusing, hair-raising association of the concept of saving a life with a life preserver. It is true that with water we wash our hands. We can lose our lives in it if it is deep and if we do not know how to swim. But water and rescue instruments do not necessarily have to go hand in hand. Perhaps the creative came up with the idea, he gave her a fit of laughter, searched the whole house and found the little sister’s inflatable. He went to his work table, took the cell phone with his left hand and made a selfie. The girl burst into tears, the dog began to bark, the Force was disturbed. Everything is possible in a flash of inspiration.
I suppose so because with a little more time he could have found a more decent life preserver and perhaps a less wrinkled hand: his has the strain of holding the life preserver. Everything ends up floating over the side of the hospital like a curse. The expression of the fish is exact to its circumstance. He left some variants to consider for the campaign.
The following photo was also sent to me more than once, but its presence on the networks was less.
– Tell me dear Watson, and don’t embarrass me… What do you see interesting in this fence?
– Many things Holmes… To start at the beginning – which is how you like to start – we have a red arrow that points directly to the semantic core of the claim. You’ll notice that if we rotated it horizontally it would create awful confusion. We wouldn’t have the slightest idea about its purpose. The word “slaughterhouse” in red and in capital letters anticipates the veiled sadism of its author, his intimate relationship with death and hemoglobin. A creative who would jump joyfully over a pool of fresh blood.
Then he lowers the anodyne preposition to lower case and returns to black capital letters to delimit the victim. Draw them even quarrelsome, confronted and somewhat stunned. She reinforces the fight with the witty “We’re still in combat.” If you look dear, he again minimizes the passive verbal form: we continue… it is obvious that continuity knows little to him. He again locks the preposition in a dark cell and jumps back to the drop caps with the bellicose noun: COMBAT. Of the three highlighted words, two refer to death and sacrifice.
Well looked at, dear Sherlock. What do we slaughter birds for? To give drink to our demons? To see the blood run and the feathers move away in the wailing of the winds? No… it has more to do with food, nutrition and life, I would say. What happens there can be seen from two different angles and the creative one —that the violence that overflows his tormented soul should be seen— has chosen the dark side of him.
– Not bad Watson. Does that icy blue tell you something that reminds you of the breath of the long corridors of the Svalbard Seed Vault, carved out of the periglacial permafrost?
– Quite right Holmes. Cold as Uranus is the soul of the creative… and now that you make me see beyond my usual nonsense I can see how the donkeys are covered in a thin layer of ice. They have been frozen alive to make them suffer in advance. For the decapitating executioner to dent his bloodthirsty instruments, for the chicken peeler to curse his fate next to the boiling waters of the pots. Without a doubt, the artist should be put in an asylum as soon as possible. Or better yet, house it near—never together—the seeds from the Norwegian genebank. I would previously crush his knuckles.
—Say no more, John…
