Roanna Williams
30 March . 4 min read . Opinion

Why outdoor advertising in South Africa deserves more respect (and better typography)
There are few advertising mediums as democratic as outdoor. You don’t have to download it. You don’t have to follow it. You don’t even have to like it. It simply exists, towering above taxis, peeking over highways, plastered across city corners, quietly judging your life choices at a robot while you wait for the light to change.
Outdoor is the most public of all media. It belongs to everyone. Which is exactly why, when it’s done badly, it becomes something else entirely: visual pollution. And South Africa, sadly, has a bit of a pollution problem.
Drive through almost any city and you’ll see it. Billboards crammed with paragraphs. Type so small you’d need binoculars from the fast lane. Five product shots. Three logos. A QR code. A website. A hashtag. A phone number. WTF?
Outdoor should never feel like homework. But too often it does. When outdoor is unconsidered, it clutters the landscape the way bad architecture does. It competes with buildings, traffic signs, and skylines for attention. Instead of enhancing a city’s visual culture, it overwhelms it.
Good outdoor feels like a moment. Bad outdoor feels like noise. And the tragedy is that outdoor is one of the most powerful storytelling canvases that advertising has ever had – when treated properly.
Outdoor operates under one of the harshest rules in advertising: you have about three seconds. Sometimes less. Someone is driving. Someone is crossing the street. Singing their favourite song as they go through an amber robot. Pulling a zap sign at another driver or texting their friend about the weekend plans (don’t text and drive please). You have about half of their attention at any given moment.
There is no scrolling. No pausing. No “read more”. Outdoor is the opposite of digital media. Digital invites you to stay. Outdoor demands you move, especially when there’s an impatient driver behind you, hooting. Great outdoor isn’t about adding more information. It’s about removing everything that doesn’t matter. Outdoor isn’t complicated. In fact, the rules are beautifully simple.
One idea
Just one. Not three benefits. Not a manifesto. Not a campaign platform. One thought that lands instantly.
Big type is not optional
If someone driving past at 100 km/h can’t read it in a glance, it doesn’t belong on a billboard. Outdoor typography should be confident. Bold. Comfortable with space. If your designer says the type feels too big, it’s probably just getting started.
Fewer words = more power
Great billboards often have eight words. Sometimes fewer. Because outdoor isn’t about explaining. It’s about triggering a thought.
Strong visuals beat clever sentences
A single striking image can do the work of an entire paragraph. Outdoor is a visual medium first. Words are just supporting actors.
Make it readable from Mars
Contrast. Simplicity. Clarity. If you have to create a parking area underneath your billboard so people can read it, rethink.
Outdoor is actually one of advertising’s oldest superpowers. Before social media. Before TV. Before radio. There were posters. Outdoor advertising dates back to ancient civilisations, with merchants painting signs onto walls to announce goods and services. But the golden age of outdoor arrived in the late 19th and early 20th centuries with illustrated posters. Artists like Toulouse-Lautrec turned posters into public art in Paris. Streets became galleries. Advertising became culture.
Then came the rise of iconic billboard campaigns – simple, bold messages that built entire brands. Few brands demonstrate the power of outdoor better than Absolut Vodka.
A Brand That Built Itself on Billboards
For nearly three decades, Absolut ran one of the most famous outdoor campaigns in advertising history. The formula was almost laughably simple: a silhouette of the bottle, and two words – ABSOLUT [something].
ABSOLUT PARIS

ABSOLUT SUMMER

ABSOLUT CRAFT

That was it. No product shots. No paragraphs. No alcohol percentage. Just a bottle shape and a thought. The campaign ran for over 25 years, producing more than 1,500 executions and turning the bottle into one of the most recognisable brand assets in the world. Outdoor didn’t just advertise the brand – it built the brand.
South African cities are vibrant. Energetic. Wildly creative. Our outdoor should reflect that. Instead of clutter, imagine if our billboards felt like street-level wit, visual poetry, bold cultural commentary – public art with a punchline.
Outdoor has the power to shape how a city feels. Done well, it becomes part of the urban rhythm. Something people notice, remember, even photograph. But done badly, it’s just expensive wallpaper.
Here’s a useful test I call three seconds. If someone driving past your billboard can’t answer this question instantly – “What was that about?” – then the billboard failed. Not because the idea was bad, but because the medium was misunderstood.
Where most outdoor campaigns fall apart is in treating outdoor like a bigger version of a print ad. Outdoor isn’t print stretched bigger. It’s a completely different way of thinking. Think of it like a joke. The best jokes don’t explain themselves. They land in a single moment of recognition. Great outdoor works exactly the same way. Setup. Punchline. Done.
South Africa has some of the most interesting streets, intersections, and public spaces in the world. When outdoor is done well, it does something magical. It interrupts the everyday. A person driving home from work suddenly notices something clever. Something beautiful. Something unexpected. Something that makes them smile. Just for a few seconds, the city speaks to them. And in advertising, those few seconds are everything.
Outdoor doesn’t need more space. It just needs more restraint. And maybe slightly bigger type.
Roanna Williams is Co-Founder and Co-Chief Creative Officer of Boundless, and proudly describes herself as a creative activist.
For more than 25 years she has pushed for ideas that don’t just sell products, they spark conversations, challenge conventions and occasionally make people a little uncomfortable. The kind of work that enters culture rather than just taking orders from the media schedule.
Boundless was built on that belief: a simple ambition to create the world’s most loved ideas.
Not the safest ideas. Not the ones that politely pass through fifteen rounds of approval and come out the other side looking like wallpaper. The ones people talk about, argue about and remember long after the media budget has been spent.
Roanna has spent her career championing work that matters, creatively, culturally and commercially. As a creative activist she believes advertising works best when it stops trying to please everyone and starts trying to move people.
As the first female Chairperson of South Africa’s Creative Circle, Roanna used her time in the role to push for a more diverse, braver and far less self-serious industry, one where creativity comes from a wider set of voices and where agencies remember their job is to influence culture, not just fill media space.
Her work has won international awards across multiple categories and markets, but she’s the first to point out that trophies are not the real goal.
“The real win,” she says, “is when a piece of work enters culture. When people quote it, argue about it, remix it, or when your competitors quietly wish they’d made it first.”
At Boundless she’s helping lead a growing wave of independent agencies proving that creative freedom, strong culture and a healthy disrespect for mediocrity can outperform scale.
Of the work she says, “If an idea makes everyone in the meeting completely comfortable, it’s probably not the one.”
Roanna is also a Director of Open Chair, a mentorship initiative helping younger women rise into leadership roles in advertising, something she believes the industry should have solved a long time ago.
For Roanna, creative activism isn’t a slogan, it’s a way of working. Whether that means mentoring new creative voices, melting down awards to honour a team, or hijacking a horse race to protest animal cruelty, she believes creativity should always be doing something meaningful.
Her philosophy for working with clients is simple:
The best creative relationships aren’t built on control. They’re built on shared bravery. Because the best work rarely happens when everyone feels comfortable.