Rebranding has something of a bad press. The most notorious in this country is the renaming of the Royal Mail as Consignia. So furious was the reaction that it wasn’t long before it was changed right back again. It’s frequently mentioned by the tabloids whenever they’re having a good old laugh at the ‘millions’ that get paid to branding consultants to redraw a familiar logo or rename something that had a perfectly good name all along. It’s one of those things that is popularly regarded as an example of the emperor’s new clothes or the exchange of wedge for not new rope.
Back when I had a proper job, I got involved myself in branding and corporate identity work. It’s a bit of a soft target for that sort of scorn. A lot more thought goes into the process than it appears when you just set an old logo against a new one and write a headline saying how much this change cost. There is often a much more thoroughgoing root and branch reform of the organisation’s communications. But in the end, much as it pains me, I have to admit that branding and advertising is, essentially, cack wizardry. [<--for a fine example of having one’s cake and simultaneously eating it, see the preceding paragraph.]
You’d think, given my years of experience in the field of cacromancy, including the dark arts of nomenclature, that I’d be all right at coming up with names for stuff. And to be fair, it wasn’t a bad moniker for a chat about faith and stuff in the pub or for a bit of breakfast and some stories in a room in a tower block. But I probably should have done better than just calling them both pretty much the same thing. Thus, Sunday evening faith chat in the pub: Sanctuary; Sunday morning breakfast and Bible Stories: the Sunday Sanctuary.
It got interesting when some people started coming to both.
‘Will I see you at Sanctuary?’
‘The one on Sunday.’
But the straw that broke the camel’s back for my somewhat lazy nomenclative twinning was the establishment of our new evening service. For a dreadful moment I considered, and maybe even suggested, that we call it, you guessed it: Sanctuary. I thought about naming it Sanctuary 2, renaming my pub chat, Sanctuary 3, and Sunday mornings Sanctuary 1.
Sanctuary 1? Sounds very much like Sanctus 1! I think our friends in the North would justifiably have prosecuted us for ‘passing off’. We would have been the Fresh Expression equivalent of ‘Ken Lucky’s Fried Chicken’. Another possibility I explored was calling the evening service ‘Presence’ — a name I’d nicked off David Cundill, pioneer blokey in Leicester.
The business of naming fresh expressions is getting a bit like the business of securing a domain name. Names are getting more and more obscure and ridiculous in an attempt to be simultaneously unique and memorable. I mean: ‘moonpig’. What’s that got to do with customised greetings cards?
So in the end, we plumped for…
The colon is part of it. The colon is an important part of our gathering… its name; its name. It’s a fairly pretentious way of suggesting that whatever space we manage to create is both full of possibility and awaiting interpretation. More about that (the gathering, not the colon) in another post.
And at the same time, I decided it was time to perform separation surgery on the conjoined twins of Sunday mornings in the tower block and Sunday evenings in the pub so that they were free to live their own lives. And so, having secured the domain name ‘pubfaith.org.uk’ (still congratulating myself on that one) I decided to rename my Sunday night pub chat ‘PUB:FAITH’. There’s that colon again. I was obviously concerned that the backlash on changing such a well-loved and nationally renowned brand would be difficult, just as it was for the Royal Mail/Consignia, but I suspect it won’t quite have the power to force me into a reversal. I am braced though.