Where does the story live?

Picture this: a person cuts across the grass, avoiding the neatly paved corner of a sidewalk. Over time, others follow, and a natural trail emerges—simple, direct, human. These are desire paths, the unplanned trails created by how people truly want to move through a space. They reveal human intention and preference.

This is a concept I often revisit when thinking about how stories are told and experienced in different places. Because I’ve often found that we (the audiences) find and follow our own "desire paths" through narratives.

Where will the story live for the audience?

Does the story start on a webpage, maybe as a shared link? Or does it start as they walk down the street, and notice the sign hanging above the business? Perhaps it’s a magazine article that catches their interest? A smell when you walk into a room, or a printed T-shirt hidden within the folds of a friend’s closet? Maybe it appears in the opening credits of a film, or wrapped around a product at a farmers market?

The story location shapes not only how the story is told, but also how it is experienced.

When done well, the storytelling creates an immersive phenomenon. The different touchpoints of the story become an ecosystem, a world unto itself. There are several components to these kinds of stories—colors, typography, décor, sounds, smells, or lighting—each is selected, curated, or crafted to enhance or supplement the narrative.

It could be a mural that tells the history of a business, or a particular lighting that creates a stunning show. There are always opportunities to entertain, set a mood, or make your opinion clear, while still serving a functional purpose.

So, like I asked the visual communication students in my last seminar: where will the story live, and what can its setting reveal about the audience's journey? How we design that story—the trail they will follow—defines how they experience and remember it.

Food for thought.

If you’re interested in ideas about storytelling and design, feel free to get in touch with us to learn more about my workshops and seminars, or WhatsApp us at +94 77 764 7096

Who is telling the story?

The first slide was a question; my entire seminar revolved around it. I looked up at their faces and watched them start to think. I wanted to see if these young, would-be designers knew the answer. They thought about it for a while…

If your client’s business were a person, who would it be?

Who's telling the story?

When a business tells a story, it adopts a particular narrative. They (the business) act, speak, and portray the world from their perspective; this is their persona and way of doing things. The attributes of that persona, combined with the story facts, make a framework that tells me a lot about a business; from there, we where to start.

I use a framework to illustrate what’s at the heart of a business persona.

From the audience’s perspective, knowing who’s telling the story contextualizes the meaning. It legitimizes the story. When you look at posts on social media or read an article, do you ever consider who’s posting the story? When you search, does the platform matter to you? Do you check to see who the author of the article is?

Take, for example, these two memes (above and below), one has been used to sell fonts, the other to convey and share a feeling amongst like-minded people. Memes are inherently polyvocal—meaning the storyteller could shift depending on how the meme is consumed, shared, or repurposed.

I would say, that memes operate more like a co-authored story, where the creator and audience collectively shape its significance. In this case, the PangramPangram meme (the former) was made to promote a business. PangramPangram designs and sells fonts. A pangram is a sentence with all the letters in the alphabet. Font designers use pangrams to display samples of what all letters look like.

Now you know.

So what happens when there's no context?

I found this picture online one day (as you do); it immediately caught my interest. It’s from a 1960s book called Shindai: The Art of Japanese Bed-Fighting.

What beautiful photography; is this true? I wondered, so I went down the rabbit hole.

With a curious enough audience, narratives can thrive on ambiguity and absurdity. The lack of explicit context can lead to inspiration, entertainment, and even thought-provoking at times.

“But what happens if they don’t like the story?” Someone asked during the seminar.

Take, for example, satire stories; they are more engaging, but they require an understanding between the storyteller and the audience. When two people understand each other, there is room for ambiguity and absurdity.

Humour works especially well, but it’s risky.

For better or for worse, the story may get attention, but it doesn’t necessarily always lead to understanding; or guarantee fidelity. If the audience doesn’t get it, the story is ignored. Or it gets labelled as a lie, disinformation, and more of the Internet’s flimflam.

From my experience, who the storyteller is, shapes the outcome of a story. Regardless of the size or reach, a reputation influences the meaningfulness of the story.

Attention and understanding are not the same thing.

A new teacher asked me for advice after the seminar. They had a good industry reputation, and plenty of knowledge to share, but the students weren’t taking her recommendations.

“In the beginning, I think that’s to be expected; it’s difficult to take advice from someone you don’t know or understand yet,” I suggested.

Being good at something doesn’t necessarily make it a good lesson. In the same way, having a good business story doesn’t guarantee a sale.

Food for thought…

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This story was based on questions and insights uncovered at our last story design workshop. Get in touch to find out more about our workshops or with questions.

Stories bring us together (P1): Something to listen to and something to look at

Something to listen to

Few stories seem to hold as much attention as the ones told by a survivor; they tap into universal themes of resilience, strength, and hope. These narratives often reveal our incredible ability to overcome adversity. 

“If I tell the sorrows of my heart it will burn my tongue, If I keep it in my heart I’m afraid it will burn me from the inside. But If I let it out, I fear that it will burn the world” - a father who lost his sons.

I’m listening to Yuval Noah Harari discuss how stories can unite or divide us. Some lead to cooperation, others lead to conflict. Wars are fought not just over resources or territory but over the underlying stories that justify and give meaning to those resources and territories. 

And we can also change our minds about stories too. I’m thinking of "The General" by Dispatch; particularly the lyrics "Take a shower, shine your shoes, you got no time to lose," It's a song about the futility of war. It tells the story of a war-weary general who, after a profound realization, urges his soldiers to abandon the fight and go live their lives. 

There is a term for when a positive psychological change occurs as a result of experiencing a highly challenging circumstance; they call it post-traumatic growth. I think, to a certain degree, we’ve all experienced or witnessed this at some point. It’s a soft sage-like patience in the moment of crisis; a profound calmness and understanding. 

Listen to Nina Simone's live recording of Who Knows Where the Time Goes. Some messages are more powerful when spoken softly. I feel gratitude when I listen to this song. You’ll recognize the survivor in her voice. 

These are our shared myths; they aren’t epic stories of gods and nations, they are personal narratives of survival. If you are into these moods, check out my Change is Gonna Come playlist. Fair warning, these are big feelings songs.

Something to look at

There’s a beautiful film about a man named Mr. Badii (played by Homayoun Ershadi), who drives through the outskirts of Tehran, searching for someone to help him with his plan to end his life. Directed by Abbas Kiarostami and set in contemporary Iran. It’s called "Taste of Cherry" and is a visual masterpiece in my view. The film goes into some deep existential questions about human connection, and life and death—these are big themes we all are familiar with, regardless of cultural background. This is an example of how stories can bridge cultural gaps and connect us through common human experiences.

It's a bit of a slow-paced film with moments of dialogue. Long takes and stationary shots allow the scenes to unfold naturally without cuts. This kind of visual and narrative strategy creates a space for the audience to get to know the story's characters.

This is a good way to approach brand development. It’s better to give enough time between changes for customers to familiarize themselves with the difference. We often refer to this as the 25% rule; as the minimum amount to retain. Gradual changes over time help maintain familiarity and trust with existing customers.

I often advise entrepreneurs to approach developing their business identity and personality similarly. Sometimes the core identity doesn’t emerge at first; I’ve worked with businesses that start with a particular idea, and by the time they launch, they’ve changed their entire model. So I find it’s better to leave room for the brand to grow along the same path as the business. 

Businesses are like people, as they grow so does their sense of identity and personality. Let the business story unfold naturally. A logo will become more meaningful over time. This is why I think a brand is as much built on reputation as it is on vision. The stories we tell shape identities and perceptions.