Decoding Advertisements E-Book

Judith Williamson

• Herausgeber: Marion Boyars
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 1978

Beschreibung

Judith Williamson does not simply criticize advertisements on the grounds of dishonesty and exploitation, but examines in detail, through over a hundred illustrations, their undoubted attractiveness and appeal. The overt economic function of this appeal is to make us buy things. Its ideological function is to involve us as 'individuals' in perpetuating the ideas which endorse the economic basis of our society. If economic conditions are the ones that make ideology necessary, it is ideology which makes those conditions seem necessary. In order to change society, the vicious circle of 'necessity' and ideas must be broken. Decoding Advertisements is an attempt to forge, in our acceptance not only of the images and values of advertising, but of the 'transparent' forms and structures in which they are embodied. It provides a 'set of tools' which we can use to alter our own pereptions of one society's subtlest and most complex forms of propoganda.

Leseprobe

When I’m drivin’ in my car

And that man comes on the radio

And he’s telling me more and more

About some useless information

Supposed to fire my imagination

I can’t get no

Satisfaction

When I’m watchin’ my TV

And that man comes on to tell me

How white my shirts can be

Well he can’t be a man ’cause he doesn’t smoke

The same cigarettes as me

I can’t get no

Satisfaction

I can’t get me no

Satisfaction…

Mick Jagger and Keith Richard

from ‘Ican’tgetnoSatisfaction’

‘The reader who wishes to follow me

at all must resolve to climb from

the particular up to the general.’

Karl Marx

CritiqueofPoliticalEconomy

Judith Williamson

Decoding Advertisements

Ideology and Meaning in Advertising

CONTENTS

Title Page

Preface to the Fifteenth Impression

Foreword

Introduction: ‘Meaning and Ideology’

PART ONE‘Advertising-Work’

Chapter One A Currency of Signs

a. Differentiation

b. The Finished Connection: An ‘Objective Correlative’

c. Product as Signified

d. Product as Signifier

e. Product as Generator

f. Product as Currency

Chapter Two Signs Address Somebody

a. Currency Requires a Subject to Make an Exchange

b. ‘Totemism’: Subject as Signified

c. Appellation and Individualism: Individuals Constituted as Subjects

d. Divisions

e. Advertising and the ‘Mirror-Phase’

f. The Created Self

Chapter Three Signs for Deciphering: Hermeneutics

a. Absence

b. Language

c. Calligraphy

PART TWO‘Ideological Castles’: Referent Systems

Chapter Four ‘Cooking’ Nature

a. ‘The Raw and the Cooked’: Representations of Transformation

b. Science

c. ‘Cooked’ Sex: ‘Civilisation and Its Discontents’

Chapter Five Back to Nature

a. ‘The Natural’

b. Surrealism

c. The Ideology of the Natural

Chapter Six Magic

a. Alchemy

b. Spells

c. The Genie in the Lamp and the World in the Bottle

d. The Crystal Ball/Magic Circle

Chapter Seven Time: Narrative and History

a. Time Past: Memory

b. Time Future: Desire

c. History

Chapter Eight Conclusions

Select Bibliography

Acknowledgments

Copyright

PREFACE TO THE FIFTEENTH IMPRESSION

I started writing this book in 1976, in a world plastered with glossy images and ringing with catchy slogans: a world where advertising encouraged us to create our identities through consumer goods and relate to one another through the language of our possessions. Over twenty-five years later, I am writing the preface to its fifteenth impression in a world which is, in that respect at least, remarkably similar. The ads on the following pages may seem as ‘retro’ in style as any film or fashion-spread of the 1970s: a reminder of how rapidly cultural images shift and date. But the process I set out to analyse through them has changed only in its intensity and ubiquity – and the need to understand it and challenge it is more pressing than ever.

Certainly ads themselves change all the time, both in content and style: they reflect social developments (more women behind the wheel, more men in the kitchen) and also the subtler shifts in media self-consciousness that are often labelled ‘postmodern’. An increasing number of ads either use self-denigrating images or play at undermining their role (for example, the soft drink ad that claims ‘Image is nothing – Obey your thirst’) and it has become commonplace to assume that this shows advertising has become more sophisticated, its audiences more knowing, over the past few decades. Of course, the 1970s ads seemed more sophisticated and knowing than those of the 1950s. Each era likes to think it has moved on, and this is built into the very structure of advertising: ads must always appear up to date, as new products must constantly appear to supersede old ones.

But while they may look different now from a quarter of a century ago, ads still perform the same function, and in fundamentally the same way. Where once they might have shown a ‘sophisticated, knowing’ consumer using a product, now they may incorporate the ‘sophistication and knowingness’ into their own imagery: a tactic developed especially with cigarette and drinks ads, where picturing consumption is limited by law (see Chapter Eight). However, this is just another way of doing basically the same thing. Advertisements’ role is to attach meanings to products, to create identities for the goods (and service providers) they promote: a process today described as branding. The fact that this has become one of the hot issues of our time shows that while advertising’s basic purpose has changed little since I wrote this book, the context in which it is understood and discussed has changed enormously.

A marker of this change is the success of Naomi Klein’s powerful book NoLogo (published in 2000). Klein speaks for a generation growing up in what she calls a ‘new branded world’, where advertising has penetrated beyond the media into schools, sports and public life: where the use of logos means that every product can be its own ad, the Nike swoosh on a garment turning it into corporate publicity simply by being worn. This is a world where some children suffer desperately if they go to school without the right symbol on their trainers, while thousands of miles away, other children suffer desperately making them. NoLogo is a passionate indictment of this situation: it charts the ‘rage’ of young people in the First World, at a parasitic corporate culture that ‘steals their cool’, while, importantly, it also investigates some of the labour conditions in the Third World under which corporations manufacture those ‘cool’ goods in the first place.

NoLogo grew out of the anti-capitalist movement, and anti-capitalism has grown in part as a response to developments within capitalism itself. Consumer culture has certainly intensified over the last twenty years: in 1980s Britain and North America the deliberate ‘rolling back of the State’ by right-wing governments encouraged capital to increase its hold in the public arena, and the marketplace became the model for public as well as corporate institutions. Branding and logos now seem to be everywhere, and business is increasingly global: companies operating across continents become harder to pin down under national legislation, and the trend towards subcontracted labour releases corporate employers from responsibility towards their workforce, which can be treated as expendable.

All this happens, and it is morally wrong; and the emergence of a movement that makes its voice heard around the world saying so is utterly welcome. Back in 1976, although Marxists talked about capitalism, hardly anyone else did: in Western societies it was generally taken as a given, the backdrop to our way of life. Today we have international debate about globalisation, branding, the impact of capitalism on the very future of our planet – there is a public language available for opposing this politically unjust, materially exploitative, spiritually crushing system which is neither a natural nor an inevitable mode of conducting human affairs.

And yet, sometimes just saying something is wrong – even though it is – isn’t enough. We need to understand how the system works: which is where theory and analysis play a crucial part. Anti-capitalism hasn’t made Marxism redundant – it has made it still more necessary, as a theoretical framework that analyses capitalism as a dynamic, and seeks to understand the way it works. A Marxist perspective enables us to see capitalism’s ‘excesses’ as integral to its structure: how could it not exploit its workforce, and still make profits? And Marx’s notion of commodity fetishism has never been more relevant, in a world where relations between people increasingly take the form of relations between things.

These concepts are as topical as ever, and can help us to understand what we now call globalisation and branding – which might once have been called economic imperialism and marketing. Fashions in words change, often more rapidly than the phenomena they refer to: this can sometimes provide fresh ways of thinking about the same things. However, it can also give the impression that the world is changing faster than it really is. An example is the rise of the word ‘postmodern’: once it came into use, it suddenly seemed we were living in a newly postmodern world – but what that meant, let alone whether we really are, remains a mystery. Similarly, branding, though definitely a more widespread phenomenon than, say, thirty years ago, is not a new one, though recent debates may make it seem so. A hundred years before No Logo was published, H.G. Wells wrote the fascinating (and hilarious) novel TonoBungay, which charts the fortunes of a patent-medicine manufacturer building brand identification through remarkably modern methods of advertising and niche marketing. And, of course, the ruthless exploitation of cheap labour is not new either: it is just that the industrial slums are now more likely to be in the Philippines or Indonesia than in Manchester or Detroit.

So while we look for the changing elements in the world around us, we can also learn from seeing the structural continuities. And this is another reason theory and analysis are so valuable: they are tools that can be used and reused, as it were – this is in the nature of conceptual, rather than descriptive, systems. Two plus two still makes four, whether you are adding two apples or two tanks: any analysis of a consistent structure will hold true even as the details of its appearance may shift.

Which brings me back to the project of this book. My aim in it was to analyse the way ads work – not merely to comment on their content. The ‘decoding’ process was intended as a sort of dismantling of their mechanisms, to show how they convey meanings to their products. And while those meanings change all the time, the mechanisms don’t: which is why a structural analysis remains valid, it still ‘works’. The semiotic and psychoanalytic theories I draw on for this analysis complement a Marxist perspective. Together they make it possible to understand the way things mean within our culture – the very forms of meaning: which are also, at a deep level, the patterns of how we feel and think.

Ideology is a very unfashionable word: in today’s intellectual climate it makes the user sound like a Stalinist dinosaur. But it is a term linked with a body of theory that addresses contradictions and complexity, and investigates the political dimensions of our senses of self. Its falling into disuse suggests an abandonment of the attempt to understand those struggles with the status quo that are internal, as well as external to us; a reluctance to acknowledge that what we think and feel is not always one hundred per cent within our control. Yet without such a framework, how can we explain why someone may want to be ‘cool’ even as they attack the logos that ‘make’ them so? Or the difficulties people have giving up parts of themselves which they know perfectly well to be bad either for them (‘smoker’) or the world at large (‘motorist’)? Ideology – whatever we call it – mediates what we know, how we feel, and the way we live. And I believe now, as I did in 1976, that grasping the tools for understanding ideology and meaning in advertising can form part of the wider struggle for change, for the liberating transformation of ourselves and the world.

August2002

FOREWORD

I want to say how and why this book was written: to give it a context. The introductory section to follow gives a basic outline of its content, and explains its structure and subtitle.

I first submitted this as a project for a course in popular culture at the University of California, Berkeley. It consisted simply of advertisements and a formal analysis of each one. But in the course of my analysis conclusions emerged which formed the basis of the theory which I present here. The book in its present form has been entirely rewritten and re-structured in terms of that theory.

But the reasons for its being written at all go much further back. I arrived in Berkeley with a bulging file of advertisements collected over many years. I had been tearing them out of magazines, and keeping them with a vague hope of coming to terms with their effect on me. As a teenager, reading both Karl Marx and ‘Honey’ magazine, I couldn’t reconcile what I knew with what I felt. This is the root of ideology, I believe. I knew I was being ‘exploited’, but it was a fact that I was attracted. Feelings (ideology), lag behind knowledge (science). We can learn from their clash. We move forward as the revolutionary becomes the obvious.

This process can be reversed, however. When I looked at advertisements and wrote my Berkeley project, my conclusions seemed obvious and clear to me; they explained, although they did not explain away, my reactions to advertisements. But when I read structuralist thinkers, indeed, some modern Marxist thinkers, I found my project placed in quite a new context. It seemed as if people were getting excited about, and taking as unusual, certain aspects of structure and relationships. These are essential, but they are not new. Of course relations between things are important: of course systems are important.

Thus it seems that recently, the very obvious (for example, structure) has become ‘revolutionary’. This is in fact retrograde. We should be trying to see new things both in society and in ourselves, our own feelings and reactions. I could not have written this, theoretical though it has turned out in its final version, without that battle throughout my teenage years, and still now, between the desire for magazine glamour and the knowledge that I will never achieve it, that it is a myth. So what made me want it? A real need—but falsely fulfilled: in fact, sustained by its perpetual unfulfilment.

This is personal, because much of my book is impersonal. I value a theory and formal structure of approach precisely because it can be shared. Yet it should also be material and practical. I like to think of the title of this book as suggesting ‘dismantling cars’ or something—a sort of handbook. I am impatient with any theory of ideology which is not tied to anything practical, to the material factors which influence our feelings, our lives, our images of ourselves.

The personal context for this book, which I have given here, does not fundamentally differ from the wider reasons I give below for studying advertisements. Politics is the intersection of public and private life. This book deals with a public form, but one which influences us privately: our own private relations to other people and to ourselves. The ideology of interpersonal relations (the supply and demand of love, for example) is the subject for quite another kind of work. But these areas are influenced by advertising, and it is in them that the struggle against false consciousness is at once most bitter, and most concealed. This struggle does not take place in theory, but is every day all around us; however, to form a theory of advertising (one which I have since found ‘works’ for other ideological forms, television, film, etc.), breaks through the isolation of individual struggle. It can help to put personal reaction on a scientific basis, and its very impersonality is what validates the particular.

Because, for this reason, I believe that structural analysis and a clear theory of popular media are crucial to a political understanding of media, I must acknowledge my debt to structuralist thinkers. But I have used other people’s ideas only as tools: I have taken the tools which have been useful in ‘decoding’ advertisements and rejected the others. I believe Marxists cannot afford totally to reject structuralism: as the subtlety of capitalism’s ideological processes increases, so does the need for subtlety in our understanding of them. We cannot afford to let any tool that might be useful slip through our hands. This is not being ‘eclectic’ but being practical.

Having attempted both to locate my own subjectivity in this work and to place it in relation to current intellectual trends, I must point out that in its rudimentary form it is already over a year old, and is in no way a final statement. It is, rather, an attempt to find a shareable method of dealing with the ideology with which we are bombarded.

I would like to thank Katherine Shonfield and Leslie Dick for helping me out with some of the typing: Janet Gray, who typed the whole of the final copy: Gerard Duveen for finding the last two advertisements in the book and sending them to me in America: and Chris Hale, whose arguments kept me mentally alert and whose encouragement gave me moral support throughout the time I was writing this.

Berkeley–Brighton 1976–7

INTRODUCTION:

‘MEANING AND IDEOLOGY’

‘The process, then, is simply this: The product becomes a commodity, i.e. a mere moment of exchange. The commodity is transformed into exchange value. In order to equate it with itself as an exchange value, it is exchanged for a symbol which represents it as exchange value as such. As such a symbolized exchange value, it can then in turn be exchanged in definite relations for every other commodity. Because the product becomes a commodity, and the commodity becomes an exchange value, it obtains, at first only in the head, a double existence. This doubling in the idea proceeds (and must proceed) to the point where the commodity appears double in real exchange: as a natural product on one side, as exchange value on the other.’

Karl Marx, Grundrisse

Advertisements are one of the most important cultural factors moulding and reflecting our life today. They are ubiquitous, an inevitable part of everyone’s lives: even if you do not read a newspaper or watch television, the images posted over our urban surroundings are inescapable. Pervading all the media, but limited to none, advertising forms a vast superstructure with an apparently autonomous existence and an immense influence. It is not my purpose here to measure its influence. To do so would require sociological research and consumer data drawing on a far wider range of material than the advertisements themselves. I am simply analysing what can be seen in advertisements. Their very existence in more than one medium gives them a sort of independent reality that links them to our own lives; since both share a continuity they constitute a world constantly experienced as real. The ad ‘world’ becomes seemingly separate from the material medium—whether screen, page, etc.—which carries it. Analysing ads in their materialform helps to avoid endowing them with a false materiality and letting the ‘ad world’ distort the real world around the screen and page.

It is this ubiquitous quality and its tenacity as a recognisable ‘form’ despite the fact that it functions within different technical media and despite different ‘content’ (that is, different messages about different products) that indicates the significance of advertising. Obviously it has a function, which is to sell things to us. But it has another function, which I believe in many ways replaces that traditionally fulfilled by art or religion. It creates structures of meaning.

For even the ‘obvious’ function of advertising—the definition above, ‘to sell things to us’—involves a meaning process. Advertisements must take into account not only the inherent qualities and attributes of the products they are trying to sell, but also the way in which they can make those properties mean something to us.

In other words, advertisements have to translate statements from the world of things, for example, that a car will do so many miles per gallon, into a form that means something in terms of people. Suppose that the car did a high mpg: this could be translated into terms of thriftiness, the user being a ‘clever’ saver, in other words, beingacertainkindofperson. Or, if the mpg was low, the ad could appeal to the ‘above money pettiness’, daredevil kind of person who is too ‘trendy’ to be economising. Both the statements in question could be made on the purely factual level of a ‘use-value’ by the simple figures of ‘50 mpg’ and ‘20 mpg’. The advertisement translates these ‘thing’ statements to us as human statements; they are given a humanly symbolic ‘exchange-value’.

Thus advertising is not, as might superficially be supposed, a single ‘language’ in the sense that a language has particular, identifiable constituent parts and its words are predetermined. The components of advertisements are variable (as will be seen in Part II) and not necessarily all part of one ‘language’ or social discourse. Advertisements rather provide a structure which is capable of transforming the language of objects to that of people, and vice versa. The first part of this book attempts to analyse the way that structure functions. The second part looks at some of the actual systems and things that it transforms.

But it is too simple to say that advertising reduces people to the status of things, though clearly this is what happens when both are used symbolically. Certainly advertising sets up connections between certain types of consumers and certain products (as in the example above); and having made these links and created symbols of exchange it can use them as ‘given’, and so can we. For example: diamonds may be marketed by likening them to eternal love, creating a symbolism where the mineral means something not in its own terms, as a rock, but in human terms, as a sign. Thus a diamond comes to ‘mean’ love and endurance for us. Once the connection has been made, we begin to translate the other way and in fact to skip translating altogether: taking the sign for what it signifies, the thing for the feeling.

So in the connection of people and objects, the two do become interchangeable, as can be seen very clearly in ads of two categories. There are those where objects are made to speak—like people: ‘say it with flowers’; ‘a little gold says it all’, etc. Conversely there are the ads where people become identified with objects: ‘the PepsiPeople’ and such like. (See below, chapters 1 and 2.) This aspect of advertising’s system of meaning is shown in Mick Jagger’s lines above. The classifications of advertisements rebound like a boomerang, as we receive them and come to use them. When ‘the man’ comes on in one advertisement, the TV watcher (who, it is interesting to note, sees all advertisements as one, or rather, sees their rules as applicable to one another and thus part of an interchangeable system) uses the classificatory speech from anotheradvertisement and directs this speech back at the screen. ‘Well he can’t be a man ’cause he doesn’t smoke/the same cigarettes as me’. Advertisements are selling us something else besides consumer goods: in providing us with a structure in which we, and those goods, are interchangeable, they are selling us ourselves.

And we need those selves. It is the materiality and historical context of this need which must be given as much attention as that equation of people with things. An attempt to differentiate amongst both people and products is part of the desire to classify, order, and understand the world, including one’s own identity. But in our society, while the real distinctions between people are created by their role in the process of production, as workers, it is the products of their own work that are used, in the false categories invoked by advertising, to obscure the real structure of society by replacing class with the distinctions made by the consumption of particular goods. Thus instead of being identified by what they produce, people are made to identify themselves with what they consume. From this arises the false assumption that workers ‘with two cars and a colour TV’ are not part of the working class. We are made to feel that we can rise or fall in society through what we are able to buy, and this obscures the actual class basis which still underlies social position. The fundamental differences in our society are still class differences, but use of manufactured goods as means of creating classes or groups forms an overlay on them.

This overlay is ideology. Ideology is the meaning made necessary by the conditions of society while helping to perpetuate those conditions. We feel a need to belong, to have a social ‘place’; it can be hard to find. Instead we may be given an imaginary one. All of us have a genuine need for a social being, a common culture. The mass media provide this to some extent and can (potentially) fulfil a positive function in our lives.

But advertising seems to have a life of its own; it exists in and out of other media, and speaks to us in a language we can recognise but a voice we can never identify. This is because advertising has no ‘subject’. Obviously people invent and produce adverts, but apart from the fact that they are unknown and faceless, the ad in any case does not claim to speak from them, it is not their speech. Thus there is a space, a gap left where the speaker should be; and one of the peculiar features of advertising is that we are drawn in to fill that gap, so that we become both listener and speaker, subject and object. This works in practice as an anonymous speech, involving a set of connections and symbols directed at us; then on receiving it, we use this speech, as shown in the ‘diamond’ example, or in the use of ‘a little gold’ to ‘say it air. Ultimately advertising works in a circular movement which once set in motion is self-perpetuating. It ‘works’ because it feeds off a genuine ‘use-value’; besides needing social meaning we obviously doneed material goods. Advertising gives those goods a social meaning so that two needs are crossed, and neither is adequately fulfilled. Material things that we need are made to represent other, non-material things we need; the point of exchange between the two is where ‘meaning’ is created.

This outlines and necessarily anticipates ground covered step by step below. By examining the ideologicalfunction of advertisements’ wayof meaning, Part I, ‘Advertising Work’, seeks to understand the meaning process: this is where structuralism has been influential and helpful. Part II, ‘Ideological Castles’, examines the ideological context in which things and people are re-used in that process to create new symbolic systems. These systems are an ideological bric-à-brac of things, people, and people’s need for things.

The need for relationship and human meaning appropriated by advertising is one that, if only it was not diverted, could radically change the society we live in.

PART I:

‘ADVERTISING-WORK’

‘The work which transforms the latent dream into the manifest one is called the dream-work. The work which proceeds in the opposite direction, which endeavours to arrive at the latent dream from the manifest one, is our workofinterpretation. This work of interpretation seeks to undo the dream-work.

The dream-work … consists in transforming thoughts into visual images…. And so… does the dream work succeed in expressing some of the content of the latent dream-thoughts by peculiarities in the form of the manifest dream—by its clarity or obscurity, by its division into several pieces, and so on. Thus the form of dreams is far from being without significance and itself calls for interpretation…. One cannot give the name of “dream” to anything other than the product of the dream-work—that is to say, the form into which the latent thoughts have been translated by the dream-work.’

Freud, IntroductoryLecturesonPsychoanalysis

Signifier,Signified,Sign

A sign is quite simply a thing—whether object, word, or picture—which has a particular meaning to a person or group of people. It is neither the thing nor the meaning alone, but the two together.

Thesignconsistsofthe Signifier, thematerialobject,andthe Signified, whichisitsmeaning. These are only divided for analytical purposes: in practice a sign is always thing-plus-meaning.

We can only understand what advertisements mean by finding out how they mean, and analysing the way in which they work. What an advertisement ‘says’ is merely what it claims to say; it is part of the deceptive mythology of advertising to believe that an advertisement is simply a transparent vehicle for a ‘message’ behind it. Certainly a large part of any advertisement is this ‘message’: we are told something about a product, and asked to buy it. The information that we are given is frequently untrue, and even when it is true, we are often being persuaded to buy products which are unnecessary; products manufactured at the cost of damaging the environment and sold to make a profit at the expense of the people who made them. A criticism of advertising on these grounds is valid, and I would support it. However, such a criticism is in many ways the greatest obstacle of all to a true understanding of the role of advertisements in our society, because it is based on the assumption that ads are merely the invisible conveyors of certain undesirable messages, and only sees meaning in the overt ‘content’ of the ad rather than its ‘form’—in other words, ignoring the ‘content’ of the ‘form’.

That a ‘content’ of ‘form’ should be such a paradoxical idea draws attention to the assumptions inherent in the use of these words. ‘Form’ is invisible: a set of relations, a scaffolding to be filled out by ‘content’, which is seen as substantial, with a solidity of meaning. These connotations make the terms ‘form’ and ‘content’ particularly unsuited for my argument, since it is based on the assumption that the conveyors of messages are things—and significant things—in themselves; and that it is messages which exist in the realm of the ideal. So having introduced it only to make this clear at the outset, I am now going to drop the terminology of ‘form and content’. Although the word ‘form’ and the word ‘content’ may usefully be used singly, as a pair they constitute a conceptual attitude which I find unhelpful in any attempt to engage with meaning as a process, rather than as the end-result of a process.

The terminology which I will use in place of ‘form and content’ is that of ‘signifier and signified’. This is not a simple replacement, an updating of terms, but involves a total reversal of emphasis. Signifiers are things, while form is invisible; signifieds are ideas, while content implies materiality. Furthermore, while form and content are usually seen as separable and their conceptual unity is one of opposition (form vs. content), signifier and signified are materially inseparable, since they are bound together in the sign, which is their totality. What is meant by a sign, the signified, may be talked about separately from what means it, the signifier; but an understanding of this terminology involves the realisation that the two are not infact separated either in time or space: the signified is neither anterior nor exterior to the sign as a whole. Therefore my use of these words has in itself a very particular significance: it emphasises both the materiality and the meaning of the signifier in any communication.

The role played by the signifier in creating meaning is shown very clearly in the following advertisement for tyres:

A1

A1: The ostensible meaning of this advertisement is that Goodyear Tyres have a very good braking performance. The written message states this: ‘That set of Supersteels had already done thirty-six thousand miles when I drove onto a jetty at Bridport, Dorset for a test of braking performance. We set our marks only 66 feet apart, and from 50mph, those Supersteels pulled me up in half the Highway Code stopping distance (125 feet). And on that same jetty they still held a clean, firm line through a slalom—even after 36,000 miles of motoring.’

This is a rational message: it describes actual tests and results and gives a logical argument to show that Goodyear tyres are safe and durable.

Now look at the picture. The jetty is supposedly here as a test of braking power; it provides an element of risk (will the car be able to stop before reaching the end?) in the experiment, a convenient and yet dramatic way of measuring the maximum braking distance. It has a place in a rational ‘scientific’ proof, and its function thus seems to arise merely from its place in the transmission of the ‘signified’ in the ad.

However, the significance of the jetty is actually the opposite of risk and danger and it works in a way that is not part of the rational narrative sequence of the verbal ad; it functions in its second role as signifier on a completely different axis from that of the signified and cuts vertically through it. The outside of the jetty resembles the outside of a tyre and the curve is suggestive of its shape: the whole jetty is one big tyre. In case we need a mental nudge to make the connection, there are actually some tyres attached to the outside of the jetty, on the right hand side of the picture. The jetty is tough and strong, it withstands water and erosion and does not wear down: because of the visual resemblance, we assume that this is true of the tyre as well. In the picture the jetty actually encloses the car, protectively surrounding it with solidity in the middle of dangerous water: similarly, the whole safety of the car and driver is wrapped up in the tyre, which stands up to the elements and supports the car. Thus what seemed to be merely a part of the apparatus for conveying a message about braking speed, turns out to be a message in itself, one that works not on the overt but almost on the unconscious level; and one which involves a connection being made, a correlation between two objects (tyre and jetty) not on a rational basis but by a leap made on the basis of appearance, juxtaposition and connotation.

This advertisement shows how the signifier of the overt meaning in an advertisement has a function of its own, a place in the process of creating another, less obvious meaning. It has already emerged that this ‘latent’ meaning, unlike the open ‘manifest’ message, does not simply lie completed in the words, for us to read as a finished statement. There are three crucial points here. In the first place this ‘meaning of the signifier’ involves a correlation of two things: the significance of one (the jetty) is transferred to the other (the tyre). This correlation is non-sequential; the two things are linked not by the line of an argument or a narrative but by their place in a picture, by its formalstructure. In the second place this transference of significance does not exist as completed in the ad, but requires us to make the connection; it is nowhere stated that the tyre is as strong as the jetty, therefore this meaning does not exist until we complete the transference ourselves. In the third place, the transference is based on the fact that the first object (the jetty) has a significance to be transferred: the advertisement does not create meaning initially but invites us to make a transaction whereby it is passed from one thing to another. A system of meaning must already exist, in which jetties are seen as strong, and this system is exterior to the ad—which simply refers to it, using one of its components as a carrier of value (in the case of Al, strength, durability)—i.e. as a currency.

The systems which provide ads with this basic ‘meaning’ material—a grist of significance for the ad mill—are what I call ‘Referent Systems’: the subject of Part II. They are clearly ideological systems and draw their significance from areas outside advertising. But the way in which this material is used and ordered inside advertisements, and is made to mean, is the subject of this half of the book; in the course of which I hope it will be made clear that this process of meaning, the work of the signifiers, is as much a part of ideology and social convention as the more obvious ‘signifieds’.

Therefore I have used the term ‘advertising-work’ deliberately, because of Freud’s crucial emphasis, in understanding dreams, on the ‘dream-work’ that is the system of creating meaning.

I intend to start with an investigation of signifiers and their systems in ads.

CHAPTER ONE

A CURRENCY OF SIGNS

‘A sign is something which stands to somebody for something else, in some respect or capacity.’

C. S. Peirce1

‘That which exists for me through the medium of money, that which I can pay for, i.e. which money can buy, that amI, the possessor of the money.’

Karl Marx, Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts

Referent

Saussure says that with the word H-O-R-S-E, where the concept of horse is what is signified, the referent is what kicks you. Thus the referent always means the actual thing in the real world, to which a word or concept points. The referent is external to the sign, whereas the signified is part of the sign. (However, the external ‘reality’ referred to by the collection of signs in an advertisement is itself a mythological system, another set of signs. These mythologies I call Referent Systems (cf. Part II.)

In Al we saw how two things—an object from the ordinary world (jetty) and a product (tyre)—were connected. The jetty stood for a certain quality (strength), and by making the object and the product interchangeable in terms of this quality, its value adheres to the product. The intermediary object, the jetty, in representing a value which becomes attached to the product, is thus a sort of currency. Currency is something which represents a value and in its interchangeability with other things, gives them their ‘value’ too. It thus provides a useful metaphor for the transference of meaning; especially as this meaning is so intimately connected with real money transactions.

As a preliminary to this chapter I want to start with a look at colour in visual advertising: it provides an introduction both to my method of analysis, to the way in which most visual adverts function, and to various aspects of the use to which this functioning can be put. Although the colour cannot be reproduced here it is described in the analyses. The next six examples all use colour in a slightly different way, but in each case it is the basis for a connection or connections unstated by the verbal part of the ad, and sometimes quite—apparently—irrelevant to it.

A2

A2Colourtellsastory: In this picture the colour ‘axis’ is the triangle of orange-gold, formed by the two glasses of screwdrivers and the sun behind the trees. This connection already suggests a warm, natural, pure, light quality in the drink, since it is linked to the sunlight. This gold colour is echoed in the golden corn which surrounds the couple, also suggesting something natural, ripe, mellow. The other colour connection in this picture is the white of the couple’s clothes and of their bag. One would expect this white to be a reminder of the ‘White Rum’ but in fact it functions differently inside the picture. It helps tell a story, bridging time past and future. The white bag is already full of golden corn; this ‘harvesting’ is a piece of past consumption that hints at a similar action in the (at present undrunk) golden screwdrivers being placed inside, consumed by, the white couple. This hint is supported by the additional fact that the golden sun is just about to set, to ‘go down’ just as the drinks will. And so, as sure as the bag is already filled, and the sun is bound to set into the white sky, the drinks will, undoubtedly, end up inside the white people.

This ‘story’ gives a new meaning to the words beneath. The idea of there being ‘still room’ now refers less to the environment (although it obviously does this on a simple level—countryside, a field, is shown) than to the fact that there is room inside the people for the drinks. The theme is, in fact, fillingup, like the corn in the bag—consumption rather than expansion. It is significant that the space shown—the ‘room’ in the ‘intended’ sense—is not particularly expansive and is almost entirely taken up with the three white, consuming figures (the man, the woman, and the bag).

In this way there is an almost total reversal of the meaning one might expect, just as it is the people who are white, the consumers, not the ‘White Rum’, which is in fact the thing that is ‘going where there’s still room’. A basic idea of space and extensiveness has been made to operate through the picture in a way that really ‘means’ quite the opposite: enclosure, consumption.

A3

A3Theoralconnection: ‘Beautiful Blue’ is not, in fact, the most important colour in this ad. The blue cigarette packet merges into indistinctness in the blue of the denim, and the blue shopping bag. The colour that does stand out, poking through the string bag, is the deep red-purple of the bottle top, that exactly matches the colour of the girl’s lips. Significantly, these are all that is shown of her face: nothing else in it matters, only the mouth, the means of oral consumption. The bottle and the mouth are joined by colour as clearly as if there were an arrow from one to the other. There is an obviously sexual suggestion here: however, the connection of bottle and mouth is a parallel for that of cigarette and mouth, which is the subject of the ad. The important word in the ad is ‘taste’: this is the theme of the picture and the crucial element in selling cigarettes.

A4

A4Connectinganobjectwithanobject: This is perfectly simple: the colours of the cigarette packet are exactly those of the cup of coffee—white and maroon; and there is even a hint of gold on the rim of the packet’s lid, matching the rim of the cup and saucer. The assumption here is that because the containers are the same (in terms of colour) the products have the same qualities: here, primarily mildness, though also a slight suggestion of richness. The cup of coffee acts as an ‘objective correlative’ (cf. section b) for the quality invoked.

A5

A5Connectinganobjectandaworld: Here, the colours—black and white, with a touch of silver—and also the shapes—rectangular, streamlined—connect the cigarette packet to what the ad itself describes as a whole ‘world’: ‘the world of Lambert and Butler’. The visual link between the packet and the world is exaggeratedly apparent: literally everything in the room is black and white and geometrical. However, as the two containers were compared in the last example, here also the correlated objects, packet and world, are in fact containers; the parallel of the cigarettes being, here, not coffee (in matching cup) but people (in matching room). The people are the contents of the room just as are the cigarettes of the packet. Thus the words can be read as relating directly to the people; they are obviously terms usually applied to people and not things, yet here, in using them about things, they are equating these with people: ‘The first of a new generation of distinguished cigarettes [/people] … with a quality and style that sets them apart from other cigarettes [/people].’ So here the colour correlation brings explicitly into focus a link between the people and the cigarettes that was implicit in the words chosen. There is, however, another sort of reversal here as the packet of cigarettes is, supposedly, an accessory to the distinguished, stylish world depicted, fitting into it visually by colour and style; yet, in naming the world after the cigarettes (‘the world of Lambert and Butler’), and in greatly exaggerating the features of the cigarette box in this physical world, we see that the world and the people are actually an accessory of the product, and not the other way round. Instead of the product being created out of a need in the world, it creates its own world, an exaggerated reflection of itself.