We all know the temptation of a quick sketch before any thought 👀 But what if the true raw material of design wasn't the line, but the word 🖍️? This is the conviction defended by Mohammed Ben Totoch in his new book, Storytelling, the art of captivating through design (Dunod) of which We Are COM is a partner.
Designer, teacher and author, Mohammed puts forward a simple and formidable idea: before any prototype, a story is written down on paper. Words capture what no drawing can express: the weight of an object, its material, the emotions it evokes. Ten key concepts, actionable focuses and ten international creatives who went through the same questionnaire make up a toolbox that speaks directly to communicators.
At a time when theGenerative AI Our screens are saturated with content that ends up looking the same, so we wanted to know what storytelling still holds irreplaceable. Straightforward answers 👩🏻🎨
In "From Brief to Design," you started with the framing. Here, you go back to the words themselves. Why must an object first be described before being designed, and what does this change for a communicator writing a brief?
In From brief to designI was already focusing on the power of a single word as a creative starting point. This new book goes further, to the very raw material of language. Many designers don't begin with a sketch; they start by writing. If I were to draw an object for you, you would only understand about 20% of its nature: you would have no idea of its weight, its material, its temperature, or how it reacts to its environment. Writing helps us to frame a problem much more effectively.
Novels open with a central story, but so does a chair, a lamp, a pair of shoes. This story can respond to a specific requirement, fitting under a desk of a particular height, or it can fulfill an aspiration, evoking a precise sense of glamour so that the client can imagine herself as the person she hopes to become. A single term channels creative energy, and once freed from the constraints of drawing, one conceptualizes not only appearance, but also touch, weight, and emotions. For a communicator, what seems too simple forces them to explore all semantic potentialities, and avoids the dreaded "we already had that idea".
"If I were to draw an object, you would only understand about 20% of its nature."
You cite this striking statistic: information is retained six to seven times better when it's integrated into a story. Where do you draw the line between storytelling to create meaning and storytelling to manipulate?
A marketing director I worked with for a while at Publicis used to say repeatedly that "numbers don't lie." I would reply that this is true enough for budget control, but otherwise, you can make them say pretty much anything you want, depending on your intention and how you look at them. I like that saying: "Diagnose with data, treat with design, but understand through history." Data reveals what's happening, the peaks and troughs. Design solves the problem. But neither reaches its full potential until we understand the human truth behind the numbers.
Telling the story of data to make sense of it means using the narrative to reveal the truth, to help people see the potential of an approach and make the right choices. Telling the story to manipulate it means using the narrative to obscure the truth, to short-circuit thinking instead of illuminating it. A story helps us understand how a solution is different, not simply "better." When it fabricates a difference that doesn't exist, it's manipulating. The test is simple: if the story doesn't fit the data, something is distorting the signal. Narrative honesty means tracking down this flaw rather than ignoring it.
You mention Propp, Todorov, Freytag, and the Japanese firm Kishōtenketsu, which operates through divergence rather than conflict. Which would you recommend to a communications professional for structuring a campaign or customer journey?
For a communications professional, I would recommend Todorov as a universal framework. His logic—a disequilibrium followed by a transformation and then a new equilibrium—naturally adapts to any customer journey: the user moves from frustration to satisfaction. This principle aligns with emotional modification, a process borrowed from the mechanics of theater, where a memorable scene transforms a character's state of mind, from anxious to joyful. Applied to a landing page, this mechanism guides the visitor through their transformation, from initial skepticism to final conviction.provided we subtly show them that our product will solve their problem, or even change their life. This is the explanation of what many have called the "wow" effect.
For a campaign with a strong emotional impact, Freytag stands out with its crescendo of tension followed by revelation. Think of Apple's keynotes, which dramatize a problem before unveiling the solution. Propp is better suited to long-term engagement strategies, positioning the brand as a mentor, much like Nike. And Kishōtenketsu remains invaluable for contemplative brands like Muji, which prefer to inspire through contrast rather than convince through conflict.
Several designers you interviewed prefer to draw their narrative from the heart of brand identity. Is the persona, a cornerstone of so many communication strategies, showing its limitations?
The persona can be perceived as too static, even a caricature. But in terms of behavioral understanding, it remains far richer than simple INSEE data—age, socioeconomic status, place of residence—which have never revealed anything about the intimate motivations that are nevertheless essential for designing an application, for example. And our motivations fluctuate depending on the context, whether at the office or at the beach, with friends or colleagues. I don't think we should abandon the persona, but rather enrich it. to consider it as a real character with stories and emotional triggers.
A designer sums it up well: “I almost never consult personas once a project is underway. They get stakeholders on board at the beginning, but the real decisions come from research notes and usability testing.” The persona is therefore primarily a tool for communication and compromise, not a sacred design guide. Brand identity, on the other hand, answers a different question: who you are, not who you're talking to. The two approaches remain complementary.
"Brand identity answers a different question: who you are, not who you're talking to."
You describe the paradox of generative AI: an infinite range of possibilities where everything ends up looking alike. How does storytelling become the last truly human differentiating factor?
Oh, what a huge question! The paradox of generative AIIt's an infinite number of possibilities converging towards uniformity. AI excels at generating variations, filling technical gaps, and accelerating repetitive tasks: summarizing notes, coding a prototype, creating storyboards. Then it reaches its limits, and humans regain the advantage. Brainstorming, for example, doesn't derive its value from the hundreds of abstract ideas generated by AI, but from the context and collective experience that forge a team capable of relevant feedback. Some use it to brainstorm individually before the group discussion, an essential phase.
Storytelling embodies this same irreplaceable dimension, one that touches on intimacy and lived experience. We even speak of an emerging "intimacy economy," in contrast to the attention economy. The most effective stories are born from the organic intelligence forged by lived experiences, far removed from algorithms. This conviction guided the writing of our book: we structured it like a true story, with its heroes and heroines, its companions, its mentors, and at the heart of the narrative, AI plays a multifaceted antagonist. In an ocean of generated content, what differentiates is no longer production, but the unique perspective, the one that transforms information into meaning, and meaning into human connection.
"Data itself is not retained; it's the story told about that data that remains."
You recount Yves Rocher's misadventure with the lotus, serene in the West, toxic in Japan. How can one aim for universality without falling into cultural misinterpretation?
If I remember correctly, it was Benoît Heilbrunn who explained that a logo contains a wealth of contained meanings, and that any ambiguity or source of confusion can lead to problems. A logo must meet the expectations of very different audiences—executives, employees, shareholders, customers—compete with rival logos, embody the company's core values, and convey certain values without communicating opposing ones. This is what I call seeking semantic pacification. He illustrated this with the misadventure of Procter & Gamble in the puritanical America of the 1970s.
How can we aim for universality? Let's say that...A father sharing a sandwich with his son in front of a tent and a campfire, under a starry night, strikes the same emotional chord from Tokyo to Lima.
You submitted ten creatives to the same questionnaire, from musician Dweezil Zappa to game designer Jordan Mechner. Which answer surprised you the most, and why?
First, there was photographer Leon Chew, for whom developing multiple scenarios before a project can be tedious: once the creative direction is set, he goes for it, period, without exploring alternative paths. But among the ten creatives interviewed, it was the sound designers who surprised me the most. They reminded me of a truth that is too often forgotten: emotion is conveyed more through hearing than sight. Dweezil Zappa designs his work in Dolby Atmosand each instrument becomes a character. His vision of storytelling as an immersive, almost tactile narrative opened up a dimension I hadn't anticipated: the sound space becomes a stage on which the instruments evolve like actors.
Connor Moore, audio creative director at CMoore Sound, who works with Tesla, Google, Amazon, and Nike, also impressed me with his narrative rigor. For him, a sonic identity follows the same principles as a visual identity: you draw on core values and design principles to translate them into instrumentation, tones, rhythm, cadence, and atmospheres. What I appreciated was his reflection on the balance between function and emotion. If all the elements of a user experience are excessively branded, too melodic and sophisticated, the experience quickly becomes irritating. The key lies in simplicity. He also mentions some clever touches: Google uses the key of G major, a nod to the G in its name, and T-Mobile's jingle follows the exact visual rhythm of the logo, its dot, its T, and its three rectangles. The sound mirrors the form, and the sonic narrative extends the visual story.
"Emotion is conveyed more through the ear than through sight."
Your book offers nearly a hundred actionable rules. If a communicator could only remember one, which would it be?
An impossible answer! But let's remember that the problem must be at the heart of any design and communication approach. Rather than presenting my pitches through creative detours that leave the client wondering if I've truly grasped their problem, I always begin with an introduction that says: here is the interesting and complex problem we are trying to solve, and here is how we have broken it down into several sub-sections. It's like a sales force: If you list the features of your product, the customer becomes defensive and puts you among your competitors; if you start by explaining their problem and daily difficulties, they nod in agreement. Even when you later explain that times have changed, that there's a new method and that you absolutely mustn't stick with the old one, they listen to you as if you were an expert on the problem and the solution, and suddenly you're almost a visionary. Faced with partners who are rigidly pragmatic, they'll conclude with, "Well done, you've solved our problem."
This is precisely why, when we teach in design school, we explain to students that without a good initial problem statement, they risk ending up with nothing worthwhile. And we are surprised to see how many don't know how to formulate a problem statement at all.
"Without a good initial problem, you risk having nothing good in the end."
And you, on your next project, where do you start: the story or the form? 🤓 ?
3 things to know about Mohammed
His mantra and sources: Like last year"We always manage!" He listens to the radio a lot, especially the Swiss radio station RTS La Première, for its excellent film program. traveling Sunday mornings and for its distinctive approach to international news. And during the World Cup, it will certainly not be missing Footaise on Colour 3.
Her favorite countryside. Nike advertisement Write the FutureCreated for the 2010 World Cup, it imagines the fate of the players depending on whether or not they seize their opportunities. Wayne Rooney is depicted as ending up bearded and depressed in a caravan on a vacant lot if he lets Ribéry slip away, or knighted by the Queen after a perfect tackle. Cristiano Ronaldo, meanwhile, gets a statue, a film, and a stadium named after him. Federer, Kobe Bryant, and even Homer Simpson make an appearance. An epic mural that accompanied the entire tournament.
His passion: He regularly coaches young people in triathlon 🏃🏻
