هنر تبلیغات

تكثير
عنوان اصلي را پيدا كنيد. اين وسيله‌اي است كه مشتري را به «بله» گفتن مجبور مي‌كند و بدين‌ترتيب آنها متوجه پيشرفت شما مي‌شوند و در آينده شما را به راحتي مي‌شناسند.
به آنها بگوييد كه چرا شما منحصر به فرد هستيد و اينكه چرا شما بهترين انتخاب براي برآوردن احتياجات طرف مقابل هستيد، البته اين ايجاب مي‌كند كه شما كليه نيازهاي طرف مقابل را بدانيد، هر چه بيشتر، بهتر.
اكنون كاركرد و بعد از آن مزاياي خود را شرح دهيد. كاركردها مواردي هستند كه شما ارايه مي‌دهيد تا نظرها را جلب كنيد و مزاياي شما مواردي هستند كه مشتري انتظار دارد بگيرد.
تكثير خوب آگهي، اول احساسات مشتري را مطرح مي‌كند و بعد به آنها مي‌گويد كه در ازاي پول خود چه چيزي دريافت خواهند كرد.
سپس آنها را به سفارش دادن ترغيب كرده ودر زماني طولاني‌تر، اگر فروش شما گسترده باشد؛ از مشتري درخواست ارتباط مي‌كند مثلاً باشما تماس بگيرند يا اينكه براي اطلاعات بيشتر به سايت شما مراجعه كنند.

تصويرها
تصويرهاي مناسب باعث اعتبار بخشيدن به تبليغات شما مي‌شود، خواه شما موفق و مورد اعتماد باشيد يا خير.
هر چيزي كه با ديد افراد كار مي‌كند بايد جالب توجه و چشم‌گير باشد، اگر اين چنين باشد شما در كار خود برجسته هستيد و موفق خواهيد بود.
براي صاحب‌كاراني كه شركت‌هاي كوچكتري دارند، يادگيري چگونه فروختن و به كارگيري افراد متخصص مي‌تواند بسيار گران باشد. براي يادگيري اين مهارت‌ها زمان لازم است اما با ذره‌اي توجه به بنيان‌ها و اصول شركت‌داري، هر فردي مي‌تواند به قدر كفايت و به طور موفقيت‌آميز براي اداره شركتش تأثيرگذار باشد.
براي بهبود كيفيت كار، هرگونه اطلاعاتي از افرادي كه زندگي خود را با تجارت، خريد و فروش يا روابط عمومي مي‌گذرانند، دريافت كنيد؛ سعي كنيد اين افراد از آنهايي باشند كه سال‌ها در رشته شما سابقه داشته‌اند.
عمليات تبليغاتي خود را براي اينكه به ماكزيمم اثر خود برسد، به دقت برنامه‌ريزي كنيد و به كار بردن تاكتيك‌هاي قديمي و حقيقي را فراموش نكنيد.
در مرحله سرمايه‌گذاري از نرم‌افزارهاي كاري چون «Morketing pilot» و «Ampi» استفاده كنيد، از ميان نرم‌افزارهاي زيادي كه براي شركت‌هاي كوچكتر هست مي‌توان به «Reanalyze»، «Clearmetric» و «Adrevolver» اشاره كرد.
اعداد دروغ نمي‌گويند و بهترين تصميم براي تجارت و فروش اين است كه پول‌هايي را كه صرف تبليغات مي‌كنيد در جاهايي سرمايه‌گذاري كنيد كه واقعاً براي شركت شما ثمره به همراه داشته باشد .

A new Monet exhibit shows the Impressionist icon was also a master of drawing — and of managing his own public relations.
By Dushko Petrovich  |  June 17, 2007
A floating man with butterfly wings is loosely tethered to the earth like a balloon: a miniature horsewoman holds the strings. A second gentleman, bow-tied and mustachioed, regards us through his rectangular monocle. In a third image, a man furtively opening his little snuff box gives us a sadly knowing look. There isn’t a single rosy sunset in the room.

It comes as a genuine shock to see the crowd of gigantic heads, overgrown sideburns, and ridiculous noses that populate the drawings at the beginning of “The Unknown Monet: Pastels and Drawings,” which opens at the Clark Institute in Williamstown next Sunday. Even the signature on these pictures is strange, so it takes a moment’s consultation with the title cards to understand that “O. Monet” and “Claude Monet” both refer to Oscar-Claude Monet, who first made his living as an artist by drawing caricatures in the Norman port city of Le Havre.

The talented 15-year-old had embarked on an intensive “private apprenticeship” by copying examples of the recently established genre from his father’s newspapers. As his lively portraits attest, Monet successfully transformed himself into a first-rate caricaturist, and he was by his own account proud of his quick success.
“The scheme worked beautifully,” Monet told the newspaper Le Temps in 1900. “If I had kept on, I would today be a millionaire.”

The Clark exhibit and its accompanying catalog seek to debunk one aspect of the Monet mythology: that Monet, known for his bright landscape paintings, didn’t really draw. But in the process they also reveal another Monet, a man who was acutely sensitive to the newly emerging power of the press, which he carefully used to further his career. In this, Monet turns out to have been surprisingly prescient, granting interviews, sanctioning reproductions of his images, and encouraging essays from sympathetic writers to preemptively frame the debate around his work. So while the “unknown Monet” of the curators’ title ostensibly refers to Monet the capable draftsman, it is Monet the mercenary publicist who emerges as the more intriguing character.

This certainly changes the common image we have of Monet as a simple man who effortlessly recorded the shifting light en plein air. He did just go out and paint directly in the landscape, it’s true. But he also worked very deliberately to construct this image of himself. In light of the Clark’s exhibit, this “simple Monet” starts to look less like an accurate self-portrait and more like one of the stylized caricatures he prepared for the papers.
As James Ganz and Richard Kendall put it in the opening chapter of their handsome catalog, “Claude Monet was the master of at least two art forms: painting and self-promotion.” Even his very first success as a painter was a triumph of public relations.

Known to us as a rebel Impressionist, Monet actually made his breakthrough in 1865 at the yearly exhibition of the French Royal Academy of Painting and Sculpture, better known as the Paris Salon. This debut was doubly sweet: the jury not only accepted his “Mouth of the Seine at Honfleur” for display, but also offered to publish an image in their important catalog, “L’Autographe au Salon.” Monet obligingly produced a spirited pen-and-ink rendition, which was subsequently redrawn — and slightly tamed — by a professional illustrator, then translated into a print that was triumphantly captioned: “M. Monet, unknown yesterday, has made his reputation at his first attempt with this one painting.”

The press reaction was positive, with the Gazette des Beaux-Arts gushing that it would “never forget” the picture and promising to “follow the future efforts of this sincere seascapist with great interest from now on.” Indeed, the reaction to Monet’s first entry was so positive that 15 years later one writer would mistakenly remember that the painter “won awards at the Salon of 1865.”
Given this auspicious debut, it’s perhaps less surprising to discover that it was Monet — not Andy Warhol — who declared, “In our era, you can’t accomplish anything without the press.”

It also explains why an artist who had previously shown little interest in the graphic arts was suddenly willing to investigate new techniques. When La Vie Moderne, an influential arts journal that also ran a gallery, pioneered the reproduction of halftone drawings, Monet set about learning the difficult procedure of drawing on scratchboard, eventually attaining the fluency he needed to publish spontaneous-looking images in all of the leading journals.

With an accompanying essay by the art writer Theodore Duret (“He can rapidly capture the most ephemeral, the most delicate effect the very moment it appears before him”), the broadsheet produced by La Vie Moderne to accompany his exhibit at the gallery in 1880 not only reproduced Monet’s pictures but also effectively told the public — and the critics — how to see them. As favorable reviews of his next show appeared in Annuaire Illustre des Beaux-Arts, La Republique Francaise, Le Voltaire, and La Justice, the Monet scholar Steven Levinehas called 1883 the year that “saw Monet’s consecration in print.”

This successful campaign clarifies Monet’s seemingly quixotic efforts to promote his colorful work in shades of gray — but we shouldn’t confuse martial determination with actual enthusiasm. Even though he recognized their utility, Monet was never interested in the “noise” of journalism or very impressed by the various new techniques he employed; nor does he seem to have been fond of drawing itself, which he always refused to count among his talents, thinking it would detract from his image as a painter of pure spontaneity.

Indeed, a disavowal of preliminary sketches was a central part of a marketing campaign that of necessity also included promotional drawings, a contradiction that caused one correspondent to jokingly inform Monet that he drew remarkably well “for someone who doesn’t draw.” The requirements of publicity had forced a strange inversion: Having triumphantly eliminated the task of making drawings in preparation for his paintings, he now had to make the drawings afterward, as advertisements.
As his work became better known, the Parisian press became hungry for interviews, and Monet did not disappoint, repeatedly spinning a tale of his rebellious youth. “I was born in a circle given over to commerce, where all professed a contemptuous disdain for the arts,” Monet told Le Temps in 1900. Twenty years later, however, he admitted to an art dealer that his mother had strongly encouraged his drawing.

Still, it isn’t the contradiction so much as the utter simplicity of Monet’s accounts that bothers his biographers. As Paul Tucker put it, “the facts…are surprisingly few given his renown. They are also unrevealing.” Reading some Monet interviews, you tend to share his frustration: “My youth was essentially that of a vagabond. . . .The sunshine was inviting, the sea smooth…it was such a joy to run about on the cliffs.”

Although the show’s catalog informs us that Monet “admitted a stream of interviewers to his home in Giverny and authorized the publication of several biographies,” his biggest effort to tell his own story might have been the edition of 20 prints he prepared together with the painter-lithographer William Thornley. Their entrepreneurial hope was that this suite of images — in which Thornely reprised 15 years of Monet’s paintings — would serve as a kind of printed retrospective, making his art available to a growing middle class that couldn’t afford the originals.

Thornley’s faithful renditions were sensitively printed in evocative pairings of colored ink and paper, but the project was nevertheless a critical and financial failure. Having already panned similar artist-printer collaborations for lacking the actual artist’s touch, art writers seem to have totally ignored the Monet-Thornley portfolio. If the sales records from the venture are any indication, potential collectors tended to agree. (It would take another century for collectors to totally accept art that wasn’t made by the artist.)

After Monet stopped drawing for publications, his drawings stopped appearing in public. As he entered the 20th century, Monet mainly settled into the privacy of his reputation, although as photography slowly took over printmaking’s marketing duties, he allowed photographers to document his work among the lilies. It used to be strange to consider that the white-bearded painter lived until 1926 — he outlasted all the other Impressionists and even the Post-Impressionists — but given his aptitude for modern marketing, his presence in the 20th century seems to make more sense.

Monet’s self-promotion doesn’t lessen his talents as a painter, but it does cast his pictures in a slightly harsher light. One notices, for example, that a predilection for popularity might have kept him from more difficult subject matter. Degas drew prostitutes and Manet painted firing squads, but the tourist buses float past all that to park outside the gardens of Giverny.

The iconic simplicity and repetition of Monet’s projects — multiple views of The Grand Canal, Rouen Cathedral, the Houses of Parliament — also starts to feel slightly calculated (Warholian even, except without the saving bite). And Monet’s ubiquity on waiting-room posters, lavender T-shirts, and dirty coffee mugs starts to seem like an appropriate fate for an artist who made, and then started to believe — and even become — his own propaganda.
Dushko Petrovich, a painter, is the artist-in-residence at the Royal Academy in London and the founding editor of Paper Monument, an art magazine launching in the fall.
© Copyright 2007 Globe Newspaper Company.