This is the second installment in a four-part series on the art of sales.
October 05, 2022
Years ago, I profiled a bluegrass musician for a newspaper. Whenever I showed up to one of his shows as part of my research process, I took a half-dozen reference snapshots with my phone camera. The photographs had little aesthetic value; they were off-kilter, snapped as quickly as possible. Their job was to complement what I scribbled in my reporter’s notebook, which tended to focus on the musicians’ performance, their stage patter, and any interview moments.
Because my ears were so busy, my eyes missed things. Going to photos later, I could slow down and discover cues that added both subjective and objective detail to what I wrote. Perhaps a paisley pocket square helped me discern a quirky sense of humor; perhaps sagging ceiling tiles helped me understand a concert venue’s fiscal health. A phrase unintelligible on first mention might make sense once I spotted the sticker on someone’s guitar case.
Do not take surreptitious photos of your partners, clients, or prospects. That’s not the point of my story; that poses all kinds of privacy issues and is plain creepy. My point is that there’s a gap between what we see and what we notice, and we can close that gap with practice. Train yourself to take every cue. You’ll move toward the elusive, enticing “flow state” we talked about last week, a phase of heightened productivity and intense focus familiar to artists and writers.
In her compelling book, Visual Intelligence: Sharpen Your Perception, Change Your Life, lawyer and art historian Amy E. Herman shows how intensifying one’s perception complements expertise in any field. In practice, Herman likes to take organized groups—she works with not only corporations but doctors, teachers and students, military, and law enforcement—into an unexpected setting: art museums. There, in situ, they can enjoy the visual stimulation while flexing their analytical skills. By giving close reading to paintings, sculptures, and photographs, Herman unpacks lessons about catching every detail and prioritizing questions.
Some of Herman’s key examples are from the catalogues of Edward Hopper, Salvador Dalí, and Hieronymus Bosch. I wanted to share my own favorite, a painting by Pieter Bruegel the Elder that I have been using in classrooms for over a decade. Bruegel is an artist known for complex compositions that show people amidst busy, everyday life; think Richard Scarry, but of the 16th-Century and Flemish. This piece is called…actually, I’m not going to tell you the name of it yet. I’m just going to show it to you.
What do you see? Because of the bright red of the plowman’s sleeves, as well as his placement in the foreground, he usually gets mentioned first. From there, some viewers jump to the ship in middle ground, with its dramatic flapping sail. Other viewers follow the red to the cap of the fisherman in the lower right who—as with plowman and horse, as with shepherd and dog—is turned away and disinterested in our attention. Above the fisherman’s head, in the sea, there appears to be…legs? Two of them, splashing, flailing. A bucolic scene suddenly got interesting.
Look at this canvas for a few seconds, you might not see the legs at all. Look for twenty seconds, barely registering the legs before moving on, and you might assume someone fell from the ship. But given the size of the legs, and the angle of entry into the water, that makes no sense. In fact, as you look at these disproportionately large legs, you realize they’re the painting’s core subject.
Now, the title: “Landscape with the Fall of Icarus.” Breugel evokes the Greek myth of a boy who insists on flying too close to the sun, using his father’s invented wax wings and despite Daedalus’ warning to stay low. The wings melt and Icarus plunges to his death. His fate is born of hubris, and the world continues to turn without him. Breugel’s tableau rewards your gaze with the opportunity to be sole witness to his drowning—once you put the work in to notice the legs.
Let’s relate this back to sales. Think about impressions you catalogue in the information-gathering stage. When you sit for a meeting in someone’s office, do you look to see if there is a college degree on the wall, or a sports logo on their coffee mug? You should. You might find an affiliation that resonates for you, which you can reference. But if you’re busy checking your notes and rehearsing your pitch, you probably won’t slow down and notice these details.
Visual cues can further your investigative work. If someone in a discovery interview claims employee morale is “high” at their company, see if you can find corroborating evidence. Is their break room well stocked? Is their wall calendar up to date, or still from two months ago? Does their social media presence show any signs that employees gather outside the office? Be wary of your own subconscious filters and confirmation bias—only jot down objective data—but at the same time, don’t be afraid to ask questions that resist supervisors’ assumptions.
Herman frequently trains law enforcement, so many of her real-life case studies involve heading off violence or solving crimes. She advocates for an investigative approach, which she gives the acronym cobra, that reminds us to “concentrate on the camouflaged, work on one thing at a time, take a break, realign our expectations, and ask someone to look with us.” The tone of this approach may feel overly dramatic, but her advice is solid. Big breakthroughs and opportunities often come from recognizing what was right in front of your face all along.
If you’re looking for a team-building excursion and you’re near a museum, people can practice their perceptive skills in person. Select an exhibit with figurative images, to help ground the art-inexperienced, and have them gravitate to whatever personally resonates. A typical amount of time spent looking at an artwork, according to researchers, is merely 15–30 seconds; challenge folks to slow down and spend 30 minutes on a piece before presenting observations to the group. Encourage them to hold off on looking at the label until first impressions have been recorded, so that titles don’t do all the explaining, and be sure they put their smartphones away.
If you don’t have the resources to meet in person, many museums have created vast online archives of their holdings. The Met, the Smithsonian American Art Museum, and the Louvre are three places that can be “visited” from anywhere via free, searchable databases with high-resolution images. What we lose in terms of physical cues, we gain in terms of accessibility.
For virtual visits, tighten your timeframe since it is hard to silo attention in digital environments. Instead of giving people 30 minutes to “wander” and choose a piece, and another 30 minutes to look at it, try five and five. Don’t micromanage search keywords; a participant’s choice of keyword is their first step in bonding with the work. Consider an intermediate step of trading images with one other person, in a breakout room, and collaborating on observations. When they present their pick to the larger group, share screens so everyone can see the art.
The phrase “slow down” appeared in this post not once, not twice, but three times. That wasn’t an accident. Next week, we’ll talk more about taking your time, and the power of silence.
We can help your team with both the science and the art of sales. Reach us a mastery@maestrogroup.co for more information on training, coaching, and consulting.
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