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Steven Addis: A father-daughter bond, one photo at a time

Steven Addis: A father-daughter bond, one photo at a time

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A long time ago in New York City, Steve Addis stood on a corner holding his 1-year-old daughter in his arms; his wife snapped a photo. The image has inspired an annual father-daughter ritual, where Addis and his daughter pose for the same picture, on the same corner, each year. Addis shares 15 treasured photographs from the series, and explores why this small, repeated ritual means so much.

Steven Addis is a father and photography buff who, by day, harnesses the power of branding for social change.

WHY YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO HIM

In the late ‘80s, Steven Addis imagined a creative agency that merged strategy and design, breaking down the walls between strategists, copywriters and designers. That vision evolved into Addis Creson, a brand strategy firm set on creating positive change by working with clients to market meaningful products and to improve their social benefit. The firm is behind the rapid rise of Kashi, the naming of Shutterfly and the launching of the sustainably raised salmon brand, Verlasso.

A photographer, film buff and writer, Addis began documenting the evolution of branding as the online world took shape. An avid traveler and supporter of the arts, he also advises businesses and non-profits through board work for the UC Berkeley Art Museum & Pacific Film Archive andMapLight.

“Over the years, Addis’s company has evolved from being solely a package-design firm to one that also acts as a full-service agency, one dedicated to positive change. ”  Adweek

 

Great Legacy Poem – The Last Night That She Lived by Emily Dickinson

The last night that she lived,
It was a common night,
Except the dying; this to us
Made nature different.

We noticed smallest things, –
Things overlooked before,
By this great light upon our minds
Italicized, as ‘t were.

That others could exist
While she must finish quite,
A jealousy for her arose
So nearly infinite.

We waited while she passed;
It was a narrow time,
Too jostled were our souls to speak,
At length the notice came.

She mentioned, and forgot;
Then lightly as a reed
Bent to the water, shivered scarce,
Consented, and was dead.

And we, we placed the hair,
And drew the head erect;
And then an awful leisure was,
Our faith to regulate.

Emily Dickinson,
(1830 – 1886)