This is the first in a series of posts on The Vault, a new conversational space in the Looking for Whitman project that is devoted to creating public conversations about Walt Whitman and his work.
In a recent post on his blog, Anthropologist and author Grant McCracken writes about the Levi’s “Go Forth” advertising campaign that uses a wax-cylinder recording of Walt Whitman’s voice as narrative and inspiration. McCracken’s initial reactions to the ad — that its use of Whitman was both “presumptuous” and “a little breathtaking” — is quickly superseded by admiration for the ways in which Wieden + Kennedy, the advertising firm behind the ad, has drawn neat and plausible parallels between the brand history of Levi’s and Whitman’s own democratic, populist poetry of the self.
McCracken’s discussion of the ads reaches a far more interesting point, however, when he winds up making the provocative (and possibly heretical) claim that advertising now serves the kinds of cultural functions once served by poetry. He writes:
But there is another deeper reason why Whitman ought to appear in an American ad. Advertising has taken up what Whitman thought was the poet’s job. All those grim protests from Mad Men notwithstanding, W+K and other agencies are now active inventors of American culture in a way very few poets can claim to be. As Whitman said in the preface to the 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass: “The proof of a poet is that his country absorbs him as affectionately as he has absorbed it.”
Haunted by the fashionable cant of the Frankfurt school, we are uncomfortable that Levi’s should make use of Whitman. But this is wrong. I think it is thrilling to see these meanings circulating in our culture, passing from the poem through the advertising to the jeans, both resonating with and for the American experiment. It is especially thrilling to hear Whitman’s voice return to us from the 19th century, the muse himself made legion. Whatever else it is, W+K’s work is successful homage.
Although this point might seem unsavory to many devotees of Whitman’s poetry, scholars of Whitman’s work (including our own Brady Earnhart) have long noted the resonances between Whitman’s poetry and the culture of advertising in America.
In Walt Whitman and the Culture of American Celebrity (2006), for instance, David Haven Blake draws parallels between Whitman’s poetry and the “promotional tenor of Whitman’s evangelism” on behalf of that poetry (131). Blake seems to agree with McCracken that there is not as much distance as we might assume between the work of Whitman and the work of a Levi’s advertising campaign:
Whitman redefines the poet’s relationship to the reader in much the same way that early advertisers invented a relation between consumers and products. . . . What gave advertising such a strong position in antebellum culture is that it began to define its audience as subjects who occupied a unique position in regard to it. People were no longer pedestrians or readers; they were spectators, consumers, witnesses, and bodies in need of healing. Advertising offered individuals a public image of themselves, a commercial vision of their vibrant health and personality. . . . As a newly emergent discourse, antebellum advertising appealed to democratic ideals, positing the historical person against the visionary self, the individual transfigured with perfect body and blood. As Berger notes, publicity’s “essential application is not to reality but to daydreams.”
With its roots in patent medicine advertising, Whitman’s publicity anticipates the commercial claims of a media-saturated age. An endless variety of products echo the poet’s promise to uncover our true sense of self and to lead us consumers to a deeper, more satisfying experience. Consuming Leaves of Grass will guarantee self-fulfillment, independence, and the kind of charismatic individuality that will make us the center of every crowd. . . . However superficially, the makers of Toyota cars, Budweiser beer, and Special K cereal all seem to agree with the author of Leaves of Grass that what they offer will result in our deeper happiness and newly discovered harmonious relation to the world. (130-131)
Both McCracken and Blake seem to suggest that not only might the logics of advertising, spectacle, and consumption lie near the heart of Whitman’s poetry, but also that, as McCracken puts it, advertisers themselves might be the true modern heirs to Whitman’s poetic project.
As classes involved in a semester-long study of Whitman’s work that is taking place during a time when Whitman’s voice is ringing out from television sets across the nation during commercial breaks between innings of World Series games, it’s our duty to add critical and scholarly perspectives to the growing debate over these ads. I invite you take up that challenge and to continue this conversation in the comment section of this post. If you decide to respond by writing a post on your own blog, please let us know about your blog post in the comments.
Here are some questions to consider:
- To what extent does the Levi’s campaign celebrate, confuse, or distort Whitman’s poetic project?
- What was your own reaction to the “Go Forth” ads?
- In what ways do themes of consumption, advertising, and promotion show up in Whitman’s work?
- Do you buy McCracken’s claim that advertisers now play the cultural roles that poets played in earlier eras?
Any other analysis of the ads themselves or of Whitman’s possible relation to them would be welcome.
Works Cited:
Blake, David Haven. Walt Whitman and the Culture of American Celebrity. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006.
McCracken, Grant. “Walt Whitman and the Levi’s ad.” This Blog Sits At the Intersection of Anthropology and Economics (2009). n. pag. Web. 11 November 2009.
Additional Resources:
Levi’s ads on YouTube: Go Forth. O Pioneers!.
Wieden + Kennedy page on the Go Forth campaign
Brady Earnhart. The Good Gray Poet and the Quaker Oats Man: Speaker as Spokescharacter in Leaves of Grass
Stephen J. Gertz. I Sing the Blue Jeans Electric: Walt Whitman for Levi’s
Christine Huang, Does Levi’s Understand Today’s America? Huffington Post.
Rick Liebling, Levi’s Goes Forth. Finally.. Eyecube.
Credits
Image Source: Screen capture from the “Go Forth” America video
When I first saw the ad, I was nagged by the recognition of the text, but had no idea it was Whitman’s voice. I felt at once somewhat disturbed by the commercialization of the words, and drawn to the visuals; they were not what we usually see in a TV ad. I feel insulated enough from the ad as ad to be glad to think that Whitman’s “voice” is being heard, somehow. After seeing the ad a few times, I did look up his work and read more about him as a result. I also thought about the pull of the “aura” (Walter Benjamin) that comes from being told this is WHITMAN’s voice, not just an actor’s recreation.
How many people seeing the ad know these are Whitman’s words? his voice? How many see beautiful young things moving as if to action, but to no particular purpose (my daughter’s idea!)
I say go for it, Levi’s! Whitman was a rebel of his time. A guy who wanted to know life and the people around him. Who wanted to connect and love. I think one of main reasons this commercial gets me every time is the fact that I feel disconnected from America lately, but a spark of hope appears when I hear Whitman’s words and the timbre of his voice. So passionate, so bold. Who speaks like that anymore? Poets of his capacity are a dying breed.
I absolutely love the commercial and feel Whitman would too. In the beginning of the semester when the commercial was first brought to our attention, it hadn’t had much air time. Now, nearly every day I’m watching a show and it comes on. Its simplicity is genius and his voice is captivating. Would this be considered a cinepoem?
Good questions. I’d buy the W and K claim more if Levis were still made here. I don’t watch enough commercial TV to know what’s going on anymore, but once upon a time, in the seventies and eighties, advertising did shape the language by capturing the American voice. “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing.” “Where’s the beef?” “Got milk?” Give me time I’ll think of more. Whitman probably wrote a lot of advertising copy in his days as a newspaperman.
My sense is that these days ads are far more visually and graphically dependent than they need to be and the Levis ads fall into the same trap. JoannaOC’s questions get right to the point. “How many people seeing the ad know these are Whitman’s words? his voice? How many see beautiful young things moving as if to action, but to no particular purpose (my daughter’s idea!)?” One picture may be worth a thousand words, but a thousand pictures is just gibberish. Words shape consciousness. But at least Whitman’s words are meant to matter in the ads.
But like I said, I’m out of touch. Anyone know of more conemptorary ads where capture the American voice?
There is no doubt that Walt Whitman is America’s hero. Not only is he a great poet, but he is a liberator. He is the first seed planted for others to grow. I’m not too sure about the ads for the beer, which would relate to Whitman. But definitely Levi’s and its stress of freedom and liberation are great, I think. Levi’s definitely seems to correlate Whitman’s sense of freedom of expression and the self-going-back-to-nature theme.
Thanks to Matt Gold for bringing me into this conversation. As you can see from his post, I’ve thought a lot about how Whitman’s presentation of himself anticipates the role that commodities claim to improve a consumer’s life.
Whitman was a good choice for the people at Wieden + Kennedy, as so many of his self-proclaimed attributes — a devotion to the working class, an embrace of the west, a respect for vigor and youthful individualism — seem to have been woven into very fabric of Levi’s blue jeans.
Of course, as Lance Mannion suggests, this is a terrific example of what Marx called commodity fetishism. Almost imperceptibly, we associate blue jeans (and especially Levi’s as a brand) with the character of consumers and the way their personal, bodily history wears into the fabric and conveys something important about who they really are. But as you buy those pre-washed Levi’s (softened, faded, and sometimes torn to look like you yourself have worn them for a long time), the material conditions of the people who produced those jeans are completely lost. My jeans are about me and my identity — not about workers living in a different part of the world. This is not the first time Whitman’s aura (hat tip to JoannaOC) has been used as an agent of cultural imperialism. I suspect it won’t be the last.
I like the reading in the “O Pioneers” advertisement very much, though the images seem more generic youth culture than the ones we find in “America.” Whitman’s voice is so slow and deliberate that I wondered if the producers slowed it down. (The Levi’s recording of Whitman’s voice lasts about 5 seconds longer than the recording on the Whitman archive, but my timing could be way off.) What strikes me the most about the visual imagery is the illuminated sign “America” that seems to be blinking on (or is that just reflected light?) as it lies on the edge of the water. With this image as a kind of visual frame (along with the shooting firework), Whitman’s voice is meant to be inspirational, a source of fortitude for today’s youth. (And there is no doubt Whitman would love to inspire all those bare-chested, athletic young men running through the picture.)
Finally, let me add that poetry and advertising have a long history that belies our tendency to see one as the work of sacred artists and the other the work of money-grubbing hacks. Mike Chasar and Nick Mason are two scholars (whose names come immediately to mind) who have explored this history, and of course many American poets — including Allen Ginsberg — wrote copy for Madison Avenue. And Marianne Moore was hired to name a line of cars for Ford Motor Company. There’s much to explore here.
Thanks again to Matt for inviting me to join everyone here at the Vault. I look forward to seeing where your many conversations take you.
It is a great opportunity to hear Whitman’s voice. I think additional feature of good poems should be more joyful when the writer reads it out loud and we listen in that we might sense his feelings way beyond than reading. As we can sense in that voice, passion and love for America, and being positive and motivating part stands out. Words like all daughters and sons, grown and ungrown, etc. all equal which creates the “United” part of USA and three basic stones that America as a country standing on that Whitman uses words like freedom, law and love. Additionally, he had slight english accent which I think american accent hasnt been existed in those years.
I can agree that advertising is a hugely important cultural platform and one that has more in common with literature (especially Whitman’s own writing) than we tend to recognize. But I also think there remain fundamental differences that we should take into account. W+K may be “active inventors of American culture,” but the fact that we absorb their words doesn’t mean they’re poets.
The ad’s Ronald McDonaldization of Whitman is palatably but nonetheless undeniably dissonant with the poet’s most urgent notions of American identity. W+K use him as an avuncular prop; a sort of “voice of Norman Rockwell” to take advantage of post-9/11 patriotism in a precarious world. The more I think about this, the fishier it gets.
Isn’t it a little ironic that such a fervently carpe-diem writer should be chosen (because of the primitiveness of the wax recording and the advanced age at which he made it) to lend distant-past gravitas to a parade of more or less homogeneous young bodies? (BTW, how many overweight people do you see in the ad–let alone prostitutes, drunks, or “scars and faces pitted with smallpox”?) Worse, the poet who championed outsiders and made fun of wearing the right clothes has been drafted into the service of the message “Buy Levi’s and become an instant insider.” Yes, Levi’s are relatively “commonest and cheapest and nearest and easiest,” but let’s not forget they’re a product.
Wieden + Kennedy’s blog claims that “the Go Forth campaign sets out to capture the spirit of young American pioneers and provide some honest inspiration. Something to remind us how the individual is resilient, strong, and capable of anything.” Who are they trying to kid? The Go Forth campaign sets out to sell jeans.
Whitman was a salesman, sure, but he also constantly encouraged us to do without him. No ad for Levi’s or any other corporation will ever sincerely say, “Not I – not anyone else, can travel that road for you, / You must travel it for yourself . . . He most honors my style who learns under it to destroy the teacher . . . I do not say these things for a dollar.” But when Whitman says them, I’m hard-pressed to doubt him.