Vintage Advertisements: 1983

I have a Rolling Stone magazine archive that I occasionally like to browse to read original articles/interviews with my favourite artists, study era-specific fashion and review vintage advertisements, the great barometer of our life and times as a society. Here are some ads from the year Michael Jackson dropped "Thriller" and McDonalds introduced the "McNugget" - 1983: 

Great series of Budweiser beer advertisements that prompted readers to write in to receive a complimentary 20"x26" version (1983). 

Great series of Budweiser beer advertisements that prompted readers to write in to receive a complimentary 20"x26" version (1983). 

Great series of Budweiser beer advertisements that prompted readers to write in to receive a complimentary 20"x26" version (1983). 

It was a simpler time for dating in the early 80s… I would be totally down with having some drinks at an arcade (if they still existed) (1983). 

Sexual innuendos are part of every decade (1983). 

Advertisement for Frisbee…it's somewhat refreshing to view advertisements before the age of Photoshop. Any hint of hair on a woman's leg would not be tolerable today (1983).

The style of the early 80s was quickly being defined by the yuppie look (1983).

For whatever reason, a lot of early 80s advertisements replicated being on a different planet. Apparently everyone was trying to escape Devo (1983). 

I always remember the omnipresent Calvin Klein advertisements from the 90s that featured a naked Kate Moss (1983).

I only included this because it is the flattest arse I have ever seen, selling jeans no less (1983). 

The headline from this advertisement could describe the modern iPhone (1983). 

This NIKE advertisement reminded me of visiting the medieval wing of a European art gallery (1983). 

Ballerinas were featured in a lot of advertisements in the early 80s…including this one, curiously selling cigarettes (1983). 

Manly men smoke (1983). 

The Timex Sinclair Computer System is the first advertisement I've seen for a product that is similar to computers and the internet of today (1983).

Advertisement for a book on the joys of pigging out on food. Oh, America (1983). 

What is a modern day yuppie? Or are they extinct? (1983).

Lord, have mercy (1983). 

Galleries updated

All galleries have been updated, including Japan. Click here. 

91

I spent my Christmas break at the hospital. Not as a patient, but rather a support. The first day though, I wasn't much of one. There are moments when you try and be strong, where you try and deflect the gravity of a situation through sheer will or just ignorance, but fail miserably. I wrongly assumed that because I had spent literally every night of the previous two months crying that I could hold it together for an hour. But I was wrong. And I knew I would be.

My grandfather was there the first day when we arrived, as he had been nearly every day for the previous two months. Taking the bus or, depending on the time of day for which the appointment was scheduled, hitching a ride with my aunt who worked there. It was something he had to do, even though his mobility wasn't always the greatest. Family bonds are strong. A part of me regretted ever moving away, as now I couldn't be there when I needed to be. But I would be there now, for two weeks, fully, completely and in spirit always. We stayed in the waiting room and the weight of reality became even heavier. There was a female patient around my age with her boyfriend. I could see her shaking as she was called. There was an older woman, all alone. I could sense her resignation. Over Christmas break, I often encountered the same faces here. In a way, it was a community. You didn't really have to talk to the person seated next to you, but there was an understanding and there was a bond. I like to think that it was in strength, rather than the condition that brought them all here. 

I had mentioned my time in Kentucky previously. This was the last period of my life where I was carefree. Where I didn't have a fuckin' cloud of worry hanging in my peripheral vision that resembles a violent, shapeless scribble. There are days I feel I can actually see it. And I always hear it. It's been good for work and as a creative outlet, as the intensity with which I try to avoid it manifests itself in ideas and action that I had probably previously just phoned in. But it's there and I know one day it may manifest itself into action as well, even though I pray it doesn't. 

On October 26, 2013, 91 days prior to this journal entry being posted, my father informed me that doctors had given him one year to live. After seeking medical advice on his difficulty swallowing, he was informed that it was caused by cancer. Esophagus and thorax to be specific. I will write about this moving forward for two reasons: one being that this journal is an outlet for me and I can't think of another single event that has changed my life and outlook like this. My father is my best friend, mentor, sentry and rock. I cannot imagine my life without him in it. I hope this takes a positive turn and I can document it here. Secondly, this was completely unexpected for everyone in my family. My father doesn't smoke and rarely drinks: two of the main causes of this particular strain of cancer. If it can happen to him, it can happen to anyone. I'm hoping my writings will educate on this matter and get people to get tested and treated as soon as they believe symptoms appear. There is a much greater chance of survival the earlier it is caught. 

My father's radiation treatment mask.

Stuck in the Middle

I'm originally from Winnipeg. I spent most of my 20s devising a plan to get out of it. I have spent the first few years of my fourth decade on the planet looking forward to returning (only for brief visits though…I haven't changed that much).

I recently ordered this book online after following Bryan Scott's work for years on the WinnipegLoveHate blog. He manages to capture my hometown in a way that is thoughtful, striking and evokes long dormant emotions for a place that I once thought was just a transitory backdrop to my existence, but has turned out to emanate itself from my very being. One never truly leaves. Bryan's work inspired me to document my new home of Saskatoon with the Streetsof#YXE project.

I'm entering a period of my life where I crave the familiar. Where I dream of walking down those snow-covered streets and everything being as it were, frozen in time. I'm old enough now to realize that one can only follow their trajectory through the universe and not control it. I may never return, but this book gives me all the comforts of home that I need. Highly recommended, whether you enjoy photography, architecture or urban issue analysis. 

To order Stuck In The Middle, click here.

To view more of Bryan Scott's compelling photography, click here.

My dad

Brian Donald Clague photographed January 11, 2014: 

Flat Design vs. Realism: the epic showdown

This website is the most amazing thing I have ever seen: http://www.flatvsrealism.com/

My Sunshine

Modeling Canadiana - Winnipeg, December 23: 

The Cusp of Felicity Part III

The food in the South was a big draw. Using an entire roll of paper towels while eating dinner may be an inconvenience to some (and environmental disaster to others), I however feel it is a feat of strength. Experiencing authentic southern BBQ - and all of its subsequent mess - was a definite highlight. But in addition to local flavor, I also get excited when traveling to the U.S. for other more embarrassing, less health concious reasons: my absolute love of their artery-clogging, 74% digestible fast food. Like Popeyes. Yes, Kentucky is the birthplace of KFC but I'll be damned if Popeyes doesn't have THE best (chain) chicken and biscuits. Then there's Chipotle. Why can't this be everywhere like Subway is? I was also a White Castle virgin before this trip and now realize why Harold and Kumar were so obsessed. Bless those sliders. And bless how fake they look on that website. If I lived in America, I would weigh 500lbs. Junk food is my heroin. 

Dining out did have its issues though. My father has had a diffcult time eating in restaurants for about a year because of his inability to swallow at times. We all thought it was dysphagia, but a doctor's visit during the summer came up with nothing. Old age perhaps. It would pass, we all assumed. There was something else troubling him this trip though; a few years ago he had been diagnosed with skin cancer. He was not infalliable and it was this realization that really made him commit to a bucket list and get shit done. As we all should, always. He eventually underwent surgery to have it removed and was pretty much in the clear, however, there was now a mark on his lips that appeared identical to it. He asked my opinion on its appearance and I agreed that he should get it checked out before it became a bigger problem. He did so after returning home. 

My own trip home was interesting. As mentioned previously, I had no checked baggage but I now did have an additional item to carry: a strained Wal-Mart bag carrying various conference handouts and pumpkin spice-flavored M&Ms. I looked like I was sloppily taking the bus after picking up groceries rather than in an airport about to head to Chicago. I thought my embarrassment would cease when I got on the plane and noticed that the seat next to me was vacant, however, a (very) late straggler boarded and sat just there. Amid eyerolls and glares from everyone around us, his opening line to me was "how old are you?". After I replied, he informed me that I should not take after him when I reach his age as he partied a little too hardy the night before, lost his wallet and nearly missed the flight. His plight was endearing, so I refrained from being my typical anti-social iPod-listening self and engaged in conversation; a very interesting converstion spanning everything from politics to the allure of cowboys (and why those from Alberta are better than those from Texas).

The gentleman I was sitting next to was a writer for the New York Times, had previously been a bureau chief for Newsweek magazine, knew the Obamas on a personal basis and...dates Hugh Hefner's daughter, who was on her way to pick him up at O'Hare since he didn't have cab fare. What strange fate. When we parted, I was never more self-aware that I was holding a bursting-at-the-seams plastic Wal-Mart bag as carry-on. 

To be continued...

The Cusp of Felicity Part II

While my father and grandfather were accumulating mileage on the ground, I was doing likewise in the air. Air Canada changed my carefully planned out itinerary giving me minimal time in between transfers so I didn't bother bringing a suitcase. There were so many tight connections, I felt I was either not going to make one or lose the luggage altogether so I didn't bother. I could buy stuff in Louisville. Part of me though wished a rogue storm would assemble when I was in Chicago so that I could stay there for longer than 45 minutes; it's my favorite city in the U.S. I didn't even have enough time to find a deep-dish pizza joint at O'Hare. 

When I finally arrived at my final destination and got a cab, everything appeared normal but then I started reading the billboards and realized I had indeed entered the gateway to the deep south - half were promoting the gun show coming to town, some compared abortion to murder and a few others touted something called "Actors and Models for Christ". I had no idea this existed, but...why would I? The only church I attend is the Altar of Beyoncé. Arriving at the hotel (which was beautiful), I didn't even care if the conference sucked. It was autumn and they were pumping some kind of pumpkin spice scented aroma through the building and it was heavenly. They also had vanilla-citrus water available in the foyer. Automatic five star review from me.  

The conference didn't suck though. It was probably the best one I've ever been to. I met so many great, helpful people from colleges and universities across North America. I am particularly impressed with the cohesion and output of the creative team from the University of Oregon. They are what I now aspire to. I also had the opportunity to visit the University of Kentucky campus which was beautiful.

Getting back to the downtown Louisville experience though...as mentioned, I brought the bare minimum with me and needed to purchase a few things so I wandered the streets near my hotel. It was more barren than downtown Winnipeg. There was no mall and very, very few places open after-hours. I asked a few people on the street if there was anything around and after deciphering their thick southern accents, I found a Walgreens. The most expensive Walgreens I had ever been to. They knew they had the soda, chips, Tylenol, deodorant and pantyhose market covered and they capitalized on it. Thankfully, my travel partners arrived the next day and we made our way to a big box store so I could stretch my dollar a bit further. 

I've traveled extensively with my father, but have only been on a few holidays with my grandfather. One was an extended family vacation to Disneyworld when I was 16 and then various spots in Mexico in my later teens. I enjoyed having him there. At 85-years-old, he is still spry. He loved visiting Kentucky, loved exploring Churchill Downs (and won!), loved drinking daily milkshakes and even loved walking around Wal-Mart while I shopped for Tylenol and hoseiry. I looked at him and looked at my dad, envisioning the next 20+ years where we would continue doing the same. 

To be continued...

The Cusp of Felicity Part 1

I've been meaning to write about my trip to Kentucky for the University and College Designers Association (UCDA) design conference and award show for awhile, but after returning home I received some news that overshadowed everything else and changed my life in ways that I am still navigating through and coming to terms with. 

Kentucky was never on my list of travel destinations; admittedly, the stereotype in my head was not kind. Having said that, I am a member of UCDA and was greatly looking forward to their annual design conference held in Louisville, KY this year. It is completely energizing to be amongst people in the same industry, in the same roles, and become inspired by them while learning that your problems/issues are not solitary, no matter how bizarre they may seem. I was also excited because of the corresponding design competition and gallery show. I always put 110% of effort into my work and, being a type A personality who has a mean competitive streak, I greatly savour the anticipation of being rewarded for it. Informing my father of the pieces I entered, he wisely told me to not get my hopes up too high as I would be competing against major U.S. institutions like Harvard and Yale, that politics are often involved in this sort of thing and that their budgets may be drastically higher resulting in a different scale of work. 

When I later told him that I won an Award of Excellence for one of my entries, he was ecstatic and proudly declared that he would be joining me in the bluegrass state. It was all he talked about.

Upon hearing the news, my grandfather hinted that he had always wanted to travel to Kentucky as he always wanted to visit Churchill Downs. My grandfather's side of the family has a history with horse racing and at some other time I will have to write about how his brother cheated someone at a track, got involved in the mob and then faked his death in the early 90s only to be discovered living a secret life for nearly two decades after he actually died in New Jersey a few years ago. However, I don't want that to be the focus of this passage. I'm not even sure I want to be associated with it (however interesting it is).

In mid-October my grandfather joined my father in driving all the way to Louisville and thus it was three generations of Clague that explored the city and ate more fried chicken than was necessary. Here is my grandfather Edward Clague and I with Colonel Sanders at the Louisville Visitor's Centre:

To view more images of Kentucky, click here.  

To be continued...