Imagine for a moment that you have been put in charge of a prefectural tourism budget intended to promote a corner of Japan. Let’s say it’s tens of millions of dollars for the year.
Brilliant. Now, what will you spend it on? And more importantly, while you’re directing all that cash about what would you say to differentiate your prefecture?
Here’s the rub. There are 47 prefectures in Japan, and being generous I’d say 40 of those have no unique qualities. We’re talking attracting tourists here, so fabulous eggplants and the “freshest mackerel” can only go so far.
Tokyo, Kyoto, Osaka, and possibly Fukuoka are already sucking down 80% of Japan’s tourists pretty much by default. They barely need to try. So your job is to go to battle with the 39 other one-dimensional prefectures to scramble over that remaining 20% of wallet!
Frog’s Glen is located in somewhat poo-pooed Chiba Prefecture. Ask anyone what’s in Chiba and they will likely say Tokyo Disneyland and Narita Airport. Money that goes to the former stays with the former, while anyone in their right mind who sets foot in the latter seeks to leave on the first mode of transport possible.
But take a small crowbar to the mind, and what else does Chiba have that a tourist might find of interest? Literally hundreds of miles of unspoiled coastline and the amazing seafood and activities that could go along with it. The entire east side of this peninsula faces the wild, open Pacific with fresh breezes and crashing waves, while the west opens onto the calm Suruga Bay with unobscured views of Mt. Fuji across the water.
Yes, Chiba is an overpriced amusement park and a crap international airport, but it also happens to be a Marine Paradise. And all of it is a one-hour drive or train ride from the concrete mess we call Tokyo.
So let’s get back to you with your tens of millions of dollars to spend and say that your job is to sell Chiba Prefecture.
Tell me, would you take part of your budget and commission 130,000 of these?
Say hello to cheap plastic uchiwa, or hand fans, dolled up to promote all that is mysterious and tourist-magnety about Chiba Prefecture! (My guess is about 120,000 of these plastic treasures are currently in landfills.)
A fan of course has two sides of what a marketer would see as “billboard” space. That’s some pretty valuable stuff. You need to create a design that’s attractive, jumps out, is easy to digest, and at a glance leaves your target with—even if vague—a lasting sense of yeah I want to visit there some day.
Come with me, as I analyze what some Tokubetsu Hombucho of the 2023 Tourism Promotion Committee green-lighted for Chiba.
The entire Side A of this uchiwa features a prefectural mascot named (drum roll) “Chiba-kun.” He is a red…koala. Or possibly a red koala mixed with prairie dog?
Chiba-kun is doubtless the product of a design competition held among prefectural elementary school kids. I don’t say that to be critical. Rather, I know well the people of this archipelago—and curiously they are nationally incapable of saying no to design competitions among elementary school kids.
Yes, a talented 8-year-old with felt pens handed in Chiba-kun.
Look, I’ve never headed a Tourism Board. I’m sure the job is tough and there are pressures and traditions I will never fathom. But just spit-balling here, I’d like to think I would set all of those pressures aside when deciding the face for my multimillion dollar campaign. I’d cut a bit of budget to some pre-campaign market research, hire a professional graphic designer, and—spoiler alert—NEVER EVEN MAKE A DAMN MASCOT.
But okay. It’s done. Let’s just leave Side A to Chiba-kun to occupy 50% of our messaging space.
Side B is where we must get into the meat of what’s in store for us when we visit Chiba. Flip over and we get “Welcome to Chiba,” a map that says nothing more than area names (helpful should we ever go?), and an inset map that shows we are close to Tokyo. There is also something about “Chiba 150 years” and QR codes for sites. (My guess is no one really gets driven to those by Chiba-kun or the MapThatSaysNothing.)
You may also note that the garish background is splattered with family crests of some sort—a note in the lower left tells us these marks are “very important to Chiba culture” and this is a modern arrangement for “Ocean Package Design.”
My gosh, sold! Where do I buy my tickets?
So, what if this was your uchiwa to design, Jack? What would you say about Chiba that isn’t here already?
I’d start (and pretty much end) with one thought: the ocean. Chiba is a paradise for scuba divers, wind boarders, white sand lovers, beach goers, and seafood diners. Sure, there are flower farms, family crests, sake breweries, and a few castles and temples of note. That’s all for visitors to find along the way.
Chiba, keep it simple and focused. It’s your coast.
Readers: some of you live in Japan, and many of you don’t but you certainly are watching and keeping tabs. What do you see and hear from this country as it attempts to promote itself?
Particularly, what messages and images have reached you that were not from the usual tourist hubs? Being from one of the 40 non-unique prefectures and eager to see it do better, I’d love to hear.
It ain’t promoted if it ain’t mascoted. That’s how it’s always been you silly gaijin.
Whoops! Budget’s all gone and we only have a mascot. Why would we tell them about the uncontrolled and irascible Pacific anyway? Not until it’s tamed and blanderised. We need safe, familiar, tamed and delicious. Oh, and cute*
* see mascot.
I've been wanting to visit Japan for literally half my life, but now that I think about it I can't recall having seen any publicity campaigns for Japanese tourism at all. (I suppose I must have seen something, sometime?)
As far as Chiba goes, I automatically associate it with cyberpunk-classic Neuromancer , the first part of which is titled 'Chiba City Blues'. (The original 'Night City'.) I expect that says more about me than anything else.