(UPDATED FROM 2/15/2024)
I am knee-deep in a final round of packing and house painting right now, so how about following up our 1967 Grand Prix convertible story with a deeper look at the illustrations in Pontiac’s marketing. The images, which were produced by the legendary team of Art Fitzpatrick and Van Kaufman, tended to be a cut above those used by other brands in the 1960s. However, I wondered whether their approach evolved over the second half of the 1960s and early-70s or replayed the same themes.
By the time General Motors substantially redesigned its big cars in 1965, Fitzpatrick and Kaufman had developed a fairly consistent style for Pontiac advertising. Their bright colors and dramatic scenes continued to draw the eye and give the brand an air of glamour in keeping with its premium-priced market positioning. Even so, the cars had a somewhat less exaggerated lower, longer-wider look than in years past.
The somewhat more realistic proportions may have partly resulted from a public backlash against cars that had gotten too low in the late-50s and early-60s.
Another factor may have been GM’s shifting design approach. Beginning with its 1965 models, the big Pontiacs emphasized complex curves that arguably didn’t look as good with extreme exaggeration as did the straight-edged styling of the past.
You too could have a hot night out on the town
In the second half of the 1960s an early-70s Fitzpatrick and Kaufman continued to experiment with night scenes. This resulted in more distinctive visuals while suggesting that Pontiac owners were affluent people who had sophisticated taste in what they did after hours.
The sun’s so bright you gotta wear shades
Fitzpatrick and Kaufman also continued to experiment with dramatically rendered skies in exotic places. Note the interplay of light and shade in each of the next images . . . and how companionship is highlighted.
Artsy color streaks set Pontiac ads apart
A frequent quality of Pontiac ads was the use of vertical streaks of bright colors. This may have been a simple artistic technique, but it made the images stand out in a much more dramatic way. Note how different colors were used to create distinct moods in each of the illustrations below.
By the same token, each image told a story that went beyond showing off the car. I found myself lingering over these ads, both to enjoy the artwork and figure out what was going on. If a goal of advertising is to capture your attention, that suggests to me that these images were quite successful.
Even less-dramatic scenes emphasized affluent living
Other images were somewhat more realistic. Cars were frequently shown next to coastal locations such as boat docks.
Even less-expensive Pontiacs were shown in places where affluent people frequented such as art galleries and fancy restaurants.
Dramatic angles gave added visual interest
Fitzpatrick and Kaufman used a variety of techniques to make even utilitarian body styles such as a wagon look more stylish. For example, in the next image note how the bird’s-eye view of the car emphasizes the way light plays on the hood.
Another artistic approach Fitzpatrick and Kaufman sometimes used was to place the car on a steeply sloping road above a coastline. In addition to increasing visual interest, this implied that Pontiacs had plenty of hill-climbing power.
Was a shift in approach needed in the 1970s?
Fitzpatrick and Kaufman’s illustrations were primarily used on advertising for Pontiac’s full-sized cars up through 1971. The next year the division switched to photographs. One might argue that they worked better with the more “realistic” sensibility of the 1970s.
Indeed, I have suggested that the Firebird’s styling tended to be better captured with photos (go here for further discussion). Even so, something was lost when Pontiac moved away from Fitzpatrick and Kaufman’s artwork.
Even the best photography can be less visually captivating than a top-notch illustration. And perhaps just as importantly, Pontiac’s photo-oriented ads in the years ahead tended to display little, if any, narrative that associated the full-sized Pontiac with an aspirational lifestyle. It was just another car.
Share your reactions to this post with a comment below or a note to the editor.
ADVERTISING & BROCHURES:
- oldcaradvertising.com: Pontiac (1966)
- oldcarbrochures.org: Pontiac (1961, 1965, 1966, 1967, 1968, 1969, 1970, 1971, 1972)
Fitzpatrick’s and Kaufman’s illustrations even made the less-than-gorgeous 1971 Pontiacs look desirable ! At old-line Pontiac dealers (like Hedges in Indianapolis), the Fitzpatrick and Kaufman artwork on the walls made the showrooms look very special in a way that most other car dealer showrooms did not.
One other thought about the Fitzpatrick and Kaufman illustrations: Did any other vehicle’s advertising make four-door pillared-sedans look aspirational ?
Pontiacs from that era are some of the most striking and stylish cars of any time My dad had a 1967 Bonneville 4 door hardtop silver with a black vinyl top. A beautiful car, our family’s first with A/C and power windows I loved the speed monitor that would buzz at a set speed.
My Father was a Pontiac man. Made a big mistake on a Ford one time. However. I loved the Pontiac ads,they literally moved you to the settings they were placed. Aspirational as one comment noted
I’m a graphic designer by training and part of my training included several illustration classes in which we had to emulate different styles of illustration. During this time is when I became familiar with Van Kaufman and Art Fitzpatrick style. I had seen the ads as a child, but was not cognizant of how the ads were produced. By the time I was in university, this style of advertising had long seen it’s day, but the ads remained visually interesting. We studied techniques used to create the backgrounds and different ways to change the proportion and perspective of the cars or other objects in the ads.
In the early 80’s there was an article in Old Cars Weekly (IIRC) that took an in-depth look at the Van and Fitz years. I came to find out that Art Fitzpatrick did the cars and Van Kaufman did the backgrounds, which was a revelation to me. After having done some illustrations on my own, I realized I was seeing two different styles blended together into one canvas. Once I had that nugget of information, it all made sense.
As my career has unfolded, my illustration skills were rarely in demand and with the advent of artificial intelligence enhanced software, there may be less of a need for illustrators. However, I find it hard to believe we will ever exceed the technical and artistic excellence these two men delivered.
Here’s a good review of their work: https://driventowrite.com/2021/03/11/art-fitzpatrick-van-kaufman-pontiac-artwork/
Thank you for the background — and the link. The Drive to Write story is well worth a read. My ambitions with the above piece were modest in comparison. I was feeling burned out with writing so wanted to enjoy some artwork.
And some tried to imitate the style of Kaufman and Fitzpatrick, like the 1965 full-size Mercury line-up
https://oldcarbrochures.org/United%20States/Mercury/1965%20Mercury/1965%20Mercury%20Full%20Line%20-%20Rev/index.html and the 1968 Dodge Monaco. https://oldcarbrochures.org/United%20States/Dodge/1968_Dodge/1968%20Dodge%20Monaco/index.html
Still, there’s sometimes I wonder if it was “AF VK” who did the illustrations showing the 1967 Canadian Pontiac line-up? https://oldcarbrochures.org/Canada/GM-Canada/Pontiac/1967-Pontiac-Prestige-Brochure-Cdn/index.html
The illustrations of the ’67 Canadian Pontiac prestige brochure are not the work of AF/VK. The backgrounds are not nearly detailed enough. Having worked for Chrysler Canada’s former ad agency, I can assure you that far lower-priced talent was employed to do the Canadian Pontiac illustrations.
My Uncle had a 1967 Bonneville 455 V8 frost green and black interior power everything.
My cousin and I would take that beautiful boat out on back roads and lay patches of smoking rubber.
As a 17 year old I was amazed of the raw power that big 455 V8 put out.
TP stopped by to say, “No 68 grandprixs.”
This story wasn’t intended to offer a comprehensive overview of full-sized models, but rather to present the most noteworthy ad images. The illustrations of the 1968 Grand Prix struck me as not breaking any new ground. In addition, all of the ones I have access to have a center-spread fold that undercut the quality of the images.
You said it very concisely, Steve: “…Pontiac’s photo-oriented ads in the years ahead tended to display little, if any, narrative that associated the full-sized Pontiac with an aspirational lifestyle. It was just another car.” Kaufmann & Fitzpatrick, through their artistry, were the original builders of “excitement” at Pontiac. Check out the link to this book by Rob Keil, which would be the definitive work on AK/VF:
https://robkeil.com/art-fitzpatrick-van-kaufman
To add to what @CJ wrote, the Rob Keil book on Fitz & Van is a must-have for anyone who enjoys classic hand-drawn automotive ads. The back story on their work is even more fascinating, as they lived in separate towns and would courier their project drafts back and forth until each piece was completed. Keil himself was inspired by their art from looking at Fitz & Van’s ads in National Geo (as a child); Rob Keil later trained in advertising. Keil tracked down Fitzpatrick (Kaufman had passed) and began the project that became the book which told the story of this pair of illustrators. Beautiful work:landscape-formatted and well worth the $55 cost.
Not only was their work extraordinary, but it became better and more photo-realistic as the years went on. The 1970 brochure has a rain splattered Tempest that continues to amaze me for it’s ability to convey the body’s curves and reflections. About a decade ago, Fitzpatrick had a website that sold prints of some of their ads. I have one of a 1960 Bonneville convertible and I frequently regret not buying other prints while they were still available. I also have two of the pictures that were displayed in the showroom in 1971. I had two others but they sustained water damage. It goes without saying that I purchased the Keil book.
Ah, Fitzpatrick and Kaufman. The Art Fitzpatrick and Van Kaufman of it all. The Brunelleschis of Bonnevilles. The da Vincis of Venturas. The Crivellis of Catalinas. The lone, slightly dramatic El Greco of Grand Prixes, stretching sheetmetal and human posture alike until both felt just a touch more important than they had any right to be.
Their Pontiac ads didn’t just sit above the competition, they floated there, like they had a better understanding of gravity than the rest of Detroit. While everyone else was busy photographing cars like they were evidence in a police report, these two were painting a version of America that required a passport and better posture.
Pontiac, before those brushstrokes, was just another rung on the Sloan Ladder. A respectable rung, sure, but still somewhere between “doing alright” and “don’t ask too many questions.” Cadillac was the promised land. Buick and Oldsmobile had already staked out the territory of quiet success and sensible indulgence. Pontiac, left to its own devices, might’ve stayed the car you bought when you got a raise but not a personality.
Then Fitzpatrick and Kaufman showed up and handed Pontiac a passport, a tan, and a drink with something floating in it.
Suddenly, these weren’t cars parked outside the Piggly Wiggly while the kids argued in the back seat and somebody remembered they forgot milk. No sir. These were cars that lived near water. Important water. The kind with sailboats and women who didn’t sweat and men who didn’t loosen their ties because they never needed to.
Even when a station wagon wandered into the frame, it wasn’t hauling Little League equipment and existential regret. It was an Executive Two-Seat Safari, woodgrain glowing like it had been hand-rubbed by monks, sitting in a field that looked agricultural only in theory. The cattle nearby didn’t graze so much as admire. You got the sense they were considering their own life choices, maybe wondering if they, too, had settled.
And the people. Lord, the people. Beautiful in that suspicious, symmetrical way. Half of them reclining like they’d just completed something impressive, the other half standing nearby, gazing at the car like it had just whispered a secret about their future. There was always a look in those paintings, a quiet understanding that if you owned this Pontiac, you had somehow skipped a few chapters of life and landed in the good part.
Now, back in Fort Stockton, the closest thing we had to a seaplane landing was Earl misjudging the curb outside the Dairy Twin in his ‘62 Galaxie. But flip open a magazine between stories about Vietnam War and inflation chewing through a paycheck like a goat on a fence post, and suddenly that painted world didn’t feel so far off. It felt… available. For the low, low price of a monthly payment and a handshake that lasted just a little too long.
You can almost see it happen. A man walks into Big Chief Pontiac, points at a long, low Bonneville, and signs his name like he’s entering a different life. He drives it home, eases it into the driveway, steps out… and waits.
Waits for the light to hit it just right.
Waits for the crowd.
What he gets is Earl in Bermuda shorts and black socks, wandering over with a lukewarm Dr Pepper, and Flo behind him in a bathrobe that’s seen better administrations. They look at the car, nod politely, and say something along the lines of, “Well I’ll be.” Which, in Fort Stockton, is about as close to awe as you’re gonna get before supper.
And that’s when it settles in. The car is real. The paint is real. The payment book is very real. But the world from the ad? That part didn’t make the trip. No seaplanes. No lakeside cafés. No mysterious, well-dressed strangers looking at you like you’ve finally become who you were meant to be.
Just you, a fine automobile, and a note that’s gonna outlast your optimism by a comfortable margin.
Maybe that’s why the suits eventually steered things toward photography. Paintings can promise things a camera never dares. A painting can lie to you gently, beautifully, like a friend who doesn’t want to ruin your evening. A photograph, though, that’s a little closer to Rusty Hammer leaning across the table at Grounds for Divorce, tapping the Formica with one finger and saying, “Son, that’s a Chevrolet in a sport coat.”
And he wouldn’t be wrong.
But for a little while there, thanks to Fitzpatrick and Kaufman, Pontiac wasn’t just a car. It was a suggestion. A well-dressed, slightly exaggerated, impossibly relaxed suggestion that life might be just a little better if you parked something long, low, and painted like a dream out front and let the neighbors come have a look.
Well said! Advertising tells a story, and those Pontiac ads made everyone want to be a part of that story.Those ads really lifted Pontiac above their GM siblings and gave the cars a real dash of excitement.
The ad agencies art work is striking. But perhaps showing the limits of advertising – rather than the possibilities.
The men pictured here all appear to be golf pros or secret agents on vacation. The women are all glamorous and young.
Pontiac was already known as a forward thinking large vehicle for upscale youngish looking people. The car itself was a rolling advertizement.
These over decorated and exotic portrayals were not by and large the Pontiac clientele. A promising junior executive more like it.
Further – using fanciful paintings were starting to look like advertizings yesteryear. Mercury in 1965 did some of this and I didnt think it was a good look there , either.
That said – the 1970 green example with the Edsel style grille looks very appropriate in its simplicity. The silver – blue Grand Prix ? with the young couple in the golden sunset looks great. The 1971 and on – appears just – way off.
Good advertising connects with the buyer’s aspirations or dreams. A buyer who has a modest supervisory job probably wants to be a golf pro or a secret, and definitely wants to be seen as a special person.
It’s a variation on “dress for the job you want, not the job you have.”
Jeeezum CMC … please. The info/fact/opinion ratio to hot air (bs?) here staggers the imagination. Excessive attempts at “cleverness” can sometimes overpower the goodness of what’s actually being said.
Clever, colorful writing was trendy when I was in journalism school. I was never particularly good at it, so it was just as well that my career opportunities tilted more toward drier forms of writing. This has informed my basic attitude about Indie Auto. If I am inspired to do a more colorful piece I will try it out, but I see that as adding spice rather than a main dish. Sometimes the colorful piece will be published, but other times it will not because something about the writing isn’t well-enough cooked . . . or isn’t an ideal fit with Indie Auto’s readership.
Regarding the Captain’s writing, I think there’s room for his style in the auto history media. Indeed, his prose kind of reminds me of Car and Driver during their peak years. That said, when critiquing someone’s writing I think it can be useful to keep in mind that this isn’t The New Yorker magazine. No one here is getting paid . . . and there isn’t a copy editor. That’s why I appreciate any attempt by a commentator to post more than the usual terse missive.
That doesn’t mean they are immune from debate. If you take issue with specific points the Captain made, by all means explain why. I just want to show respect for writing that displays extra time and skill — even if I happen disagree with something about it.
CMC’s regular commentaries regarding vehicles for sale on Bring a Trailer have been very well received for many years. His fantasy stories are entertaining, mainly because they are told in a vernacular that’s uncommon outside of Texas.
At BAT, there’s no pretence that he’s presenting a serious argument in opposition to anyone’s opinion. He writes for pleasure because the vehicles inspire his imagination.
But CMC’s contributions to Indie Auto have a different objective. He’s now making a case or arguing a point. This hits different because informed criticisms bundled within humorous deliveries can be confusing to the recipients.
Americans have a long comedic tradition of presenting opinions or truths wrapped up in jokes or funny anecdotes. I’m reminded of Groucho Marx or Andy Kaufman or Sacha Baron Cohen, each of whom made sharp observations in creative ways via odd comedic personas.
I wonder whether CMC offends fellow West Texans with his localised stereotypes?
To a foreigner such as myself, his takes are simply funny. In particular, he has a knack for producing astonishing similes.
https://bringatrailer.com/2024/02/09/10-questions-with-captainmycaptain/
Pontiac’s aspirational ads by AF/VK were highly suggestive to my developing brain in the 1960s and early 1970s. It remains a faint delusion I can never shake off. Early on the ads for the Grand Prix’ were always done in a looser drawing style and were always depicted in an exotic European locale.