Archive for Nigel Cartman

Keeping market research reporting rich, keeping it real

Posted by Nigel Cartman on April 4th, 2013 at 6:30 pm

At ground level here in London there are streets and there are people, much as in every other city. But below all this, deep beneath the lights and shops, there is the dislocated world of our metro system we call the ‘tube’.
As the trains rattle through these underground passages, there are thousands of people, but there is little interaction. Rather than acknowledge the pressing crowds, we stand inert or sit with our knees held close together, as we attempt to stretch the narrow distance between ourselves and others.
In this way we deal with the harsh proximity of our fellow passengers, people who are a muddle of triggers for our prejudices and passions.
But, of course, there is more to these journeys than closure to the outside world.
Far from attempting to ignore the other commuters, there is instead a hidden hungry evaluation of the lives that are placed so close to our own. We are all adept at reading the small signals of a person’s class and character; their grooming, choice of clothes and newspaper. We can observe and judge their diet from the branded foods on their laps and follow the way they hold their transport-bruised bodies.
Vision through layered observation
For those... Read more

Make sense, not order, in storytelling consumer research

Posted by Nigel Cartman on November 1st, 2012 at 8:42 pm

My high school years were framed with the tightly cut edges of strong discipline, long echoing corridors, heavy textbooks and the deep green fields on which the real stars of the class were born.
These stars were the hardened rugby players who marched past the rest of us as we ate our lunches under gently waving trees and talked of encounters we could imagine, but had not yet experienced. The days would pass in a dull sequence of desks, sandwiches and diesel-tainted bus journeys.
But in the midst of these days of shadows and dry cheese between bread, and in the path of the rough flowering senior years, a text was delivered with a dry thump onto our desks by the English teacher.
It was called ‘Lady Chatterley’s Lover’. It was an unspoken acceptance of our right and ability to confront the most adult of issues. It was this acknowledgement of our maturity, earned or otherwise, and the promise of passion in its pages which made this book so special.
If you have never read this DH Lawrence book, it is the story of a love affair between an upper class woman in an unhappy marriage, Constance, and a rugged gamekeeper. She discovers passion,... Read more