Author: taranom.sedghi

Before beginning this master’s program, my work already revolved around questions of storytelling and communication. Coming from a background in interior and exhibition design, I became interested in how people understand narratives through space, atmosphere, and visual cues rather than through long textual explanations. In my previous thesis, I explored how lighting can support storytelling and guide perception within an installation. The project focused on how visitors interpret meaning through sensory experience, even when verbal guidance is limited.

Alongside this academic interest, communication has also been a personal challenge in my everyday life. Living and studying in a country where my mother tongue is not spoken has created a constant negotiation between languages. I regularly move between Persian, English, and German depending on the situation and the people I interact with. Often I notice that certain thoughts are easier to express in one language than in another. At times I struggle to find the right words, even when the idea itself feels very clear in my mind. Because of this, communication has become something I am highly aware of in daily life. It is not simply a neutral tool but something that requires constant adjustment and creativity.

This experience has gradually led me to search for ways of expressing ideas that are less dependent on words. Over time I have experimented with different forms of expression that allow communication through other senses or forms of perception. One example is music. When I began learning the violin, part of the motivation came from a desire to express emotions that are difficult to articulate verbally. Music can communicate mood, tension, and rhythm without requiring a shared language.

Visual expression has played a similar role in my life. Drawing and painting have been lifelong challenges for me. I have repeatedly tried different mediums and techniques in order to find a visual language that feels natural. Although this process has often involved frustration, it has also kept my interest in visual communication alive. Photography became another way to observe and communicate moments visually. Through photography I became more attentive to gestures, light, and composition as ways of conveying meaning.

Even baking has played a role in this exploration of communication. Through my small project Dot Pastry I experimented with recipes, presentation, and packaging. While baking might appear unrelated to design research at first glance, it also involves communication through sensory experience. Taste, color, form, and presentation all contribute to how people interpret and experience something. In this sense, the process also became another way of thinking about how meaning can be conveyed without relying on written or spoken language.

In the first semester of this master’s program I explored storyboarding as a method of visual communication. The project focused on how a narrative can be conveyed within a group that shares a common language while using as few words as possible. The aim was to experiment with visual sequencing and the minimal use of text, relying instead on images, gestures, and context to communicate meaning. Through this process I became more interested in how people read visual sequences and how much information can be communicated through images alone.

Now, in the current semester, I feel the need to deepen my skills in illustration. While storyboarding allowed me to think about narrative structure and the sequence of events, illustration focuses more on the creation of individual images that carry meaning on their own. I am interested in experimenting with different illustrative approaches and visual styles to understand how ideas, emotions, or instructions might be communicated with little or no text.

At this stage the direction is still developing and not yet fully structured. For this reason this section reflects a process of thinking through possibilities and connecting past experiences with current interests. This process of reflection is also part of the research itself. By looking at the different ways I have tried to communicate over the years through language, music, drawing, photography, and even baking, I begin to recognize a common thread. It is an ongoing search for ways to express meaning when words alone are not enough.

We have reached the end of this research phase. Over the last few months, through nine distinct blocks, I have dissected the role of storyboarding in Communication Design. But as I look at the collected data, this feels less like a conclusion and more like the starting point for a new standard in design methodology. To wrap up DesRes 1, here is the synthesis of what storyboarding actually is, what it definitely is not, and where it is going.

We started by moving the definition away from “cinema sketches.” Storyboarding in our field is Strategic Pre-visualization. It is the anatomy of an idea. As explored in my earlier posts, a storyboard is a structural map that uses a specific syntax—frames, arrows, and time indicators—to engineer the logic of a communication piece before a single pixel is polished. It is not about how it looks; it is about how it works.

The true value of this tool lies in its utility. It acts as our cheapest form of error detection through its diagnostic power. By forcing a concept into a sequence, we expose the gaps in user flow and narrative logic, allowing us to troubleshoot complex interactions while the cost of change is still low. Furthermore, a storyboard is not a private diary; it is a public document. It functions as a shared language between designers, developers, and clients, ensuring that the “vision” is an actionable plan, not just a vague feeling.

Perhaps the most critical distinction I found is identifying what a storyboard is not. It is not a comic strip, which exists to entertain, nor is it art, which exists to be admired. It is a disposable instruction manual meant to be discarded once the final product is built. If the viewer is looking at the drawing quality rather than the technical instruction, the storyboard has failed.

But the method is evolving. We are no longer limited to 16:9 rectangles. As design moves into VR, AR, and non-linear apps, the form of the storyboard is breaking “Beyond Convention” to map spatial and interactive experiences. The influence of AI is also undeniable, shifting our role from “drawers” to “curators.” While AI offers the potential for rapid iteration, it brings the danger of bypassing the thinking process. The potential of the future lies in using AI to speed up the visualization without losing the strategic intent.

So, is this the end? No. It is the beginning of a more targeted approach. I am not suggesting that storyboarding is necessary for every single design task. As I explored in the “Investment” block, it is a calculation. The next step is to define when this tool is essential. It is a proposal specifically for complex, flow-based projects where the risk of confusion is high. My vision is to establish a “grammar” for these moments, so we have a shared system ready for the projects that actually demand it, without overcomplicating the simple ones.

We are not just designing screens, books, and spaces; we are designing time, flow, and logic to create an experience. And for the projects where that matters, it can start with a storyboard.

In the previous blocks, I have explored how storyboards can function as communication tools in group projects or in presenting complex topics to clients with simpler visuals. I have also discussed that storyboards are usually not the final product; they are simple sketches that help think faster, test ideas, or troubleshoot potential issues before investing more time and resources. I have reflected on the structure of storyboard blocks and how scenarios, personas, and annotations work together to make the sequence understandable and functional.

But reflecting on all of this raises a personal question: as designers, we naturally aim to produce the final project in the best way possible, and that is always our main goal. Yet, is it worth spending time developing a new system or refining the storyboard step when it does not appear directly in the final outcome? Could that time be better spent focusing on the finished design or another system? Storyboarding is a step that exists mostly behind the scenes, and its impact is often indirect, visible only in the quality of decisions, clarity of communication, or avoidance of mistakes.

Engaging with this question requires balancing two impulses. On one hand, investing in storyboarding can lead to better-informed choices, clearer communication with collaborators or clients, and a more deliberate design process. It allows for experimentation, supports problem-solving before resources are committed, and can reveal possibilities that are not immediately apparent. On the other hand, creating a new system or spending excessive time refining provisional sketches carries the risk of delaying the actual design work, without producing a tangible, visible outcome.

For me, the value of storyboarding lies in treating it as an investment rather than an extra task. Even if it remains invisible in the final project, it can shape the design in meaningful ways, clarify thinking, and prevent costly errors. The challenge is to recognize when developing a storyboard—or even a new form of visual language—is truly necessary, and when existing methods suffice. Not every project requires extensive experimentation, but at the same time, skipping this step entirely can mean missing insights that improve the final result.

Ultimately, this reflection raises further questions: when is the investment in storyboarding justified? How can we ensure that this behind-the-scenes work meaningfully contributes to the visible outcome? And how do we balance the desire to experiment and explore with the practical goal of producing the final project efficiently? These are questions I continue to consider in my own practice, as I weigh the unseen effort of storyboarding against the impact it can have on the design itself.

In communication design, storyboards have never been mere illustrations of an idea. They function as hypotheses: assumptions about how a message will unfold over time, how users will perceive it, and how meaning will be constructed through sequence and context. The influence of artificial intelligence on storyboarding becomes most relevant precisely at this level. Rather than improving the act of storytelling itself, AI primarily changes how storyboards can be tested before they are translated into real-world communication.

Traditionally, testing a storyboard required time, discussion, and often external feedback after a concept had already taken a relatively fixed form. AI shifts this testing phase earlier in the design process. By enabling the rapid generation of variations, AI allows designers to examine how the same storyboard behaves under different conditions. Changes in tone, pacing, visual emphasis, or assumed user behavior can be explored without committing to a single narrative path. This transforms the storyboard from a representation of intention into a space for evaluation and stress-testing.

This testing function is particularly important in communication design, where meaning is unstable and interpretation varies widely. Messages are not received in a neutral or uniform way; they are filtered through attention, emotion, prior knowledge, and context. AI makes this variability visible. By producing alternative versions of a storyboard, it exposes points where communication may become ambiguous, where instructions may be misread, or where emotional cues fail to align with intention. The value of AI, in this sense, lies not in producing better images, but in revealing where a storyboard may not work as expected.

However, the speed and visual sophistication of AI-generated material also introduce a new challenge. When a storyboard appears complete too early, it can create a false sense of certainty. In such cases, testing gives way to confirmation, and critical reflection is reduced. To counter this, designers must consciously frame AI-generated storyboards as provisional tools rather than finished artifacts. Their purpose is not to convince, but to question. They are prompts for discussion, comparison, and doubt.

As AI takes over parts of visual and narrative generation, the designer’s role shifts toward interpretation and judgment. Designers decide which variations are meaningful, which differences reveal real communicative risks, and which outcomes can be disregarded. Testing is no longer external to the storyboard; it is embedded within its production. The storyboard becomes a living structure that exposes assumptions instead of hiding them behind polished visuals.

Ultimately, AI reinforces the storyboard’s function as a critical tool in communication design. It does not determine meaning, nor does it replace authorship. Instead, it allows designers to test narrative clarity, perceptual flow, and potential misinterpretations at an early stage. By doing so, AI supports a more reflective design process, one that acknowledges uncertainty and treats communication as something to be examined rather than controlled. In this way, AI returns storyboarding to its core purpose: not to present final answers, but to test whether a message truly communicates.

This block was developed through a collaborative process between the author and ChatGPT, based on an extended conversational exchange on this topic. 

I researched and thought a lot about what storyboards are, where they come from, and what they could be. The more examples I encountered, the broader the term seemed to become. Film. Animation. Comics. Instruction manuals. Safety cards. Exhibition walkthroughs. Internal diagrams. Suddenly, everything sequential and visual started to look like a storyboard.

At that point, the question is no longer what is a storyboard? It becomes: where is the red line? Because if everything is a storyboard, then the term stops being useful.

This block does not try to define storyboards by listing their features. Instead, it looks at what happens when the concept is stretched too far and where it breaks.

A storyboard is not just a sequence of images. A photo series can be sequential without being a storyboard. A comic strip can use panels without functioning as one. Even an illustrated instruction can fail to be a storyboard if it does not perform a specific role within a process.

The red line appears when use disappears.

If a visual sequence does not support decision making, testing, or coordination, it stops functioning as a storyboard. When images exist only to be consumed, interpreted, or appreciated, they may still be narrative, but they are no longer operative.

This is why not every diagram is a storyboard. Not every visual explanation qualifies. Not every step by step image sequence belongs to this category.

A storyboard must do at least one of the following:

• anticipate a future situation
• simulate an experience before it exists
• expose potential problems
• align multiple perspectives around a shared sequence

If none of these are present, the storyboard logic collapses.

This also explains why style is irrelevant. A storyboard can be beautifully drawn or barely legible. It can be linear or fragmented. It can include text, symbols, arrows, or none of them. What matters is not how it looks, but what it enables.

Once this red line becomes visible, a shift happens. The question is no longer whether something looks like a storyboard. The question becomes whether it acts like one.

And that distinction matters, especially in communication design, where storyboards are not created to tell stories for an audience, but to coordinate understanding, guide actions, and align collaborators. They make complex sequences legible, anticipate potential miscommunications, and ensure that everyone involved in a project interprets the same visual instructions consistently. In this context, a storyboard is less an artistic product and more a tool for making ideas actionable and interactions predictable.

At first glance, the answer feels obvious. Comic strips and storyboards look almost identical. Both rely on panels. Both arrange images in sequence. Both suggest time, movement, causality. Both ask the reader to connect what happens between frames. Because of this visual overlap, many people intuitively assume that storyboards are simply a rough or unfinished version of comic strips.

But this assumption, while understandable, hides a more important distinction. Comic strips and storyboards may share a visual language, yet they exist for very different reasons.

The confusion begins with form. Panels, framing, pacing, and transitions are highly visible elements. When we see them repeated across media, we assume the purpose must be similar. However, in design, form alone rarely tells the full story. Function matters more.

Comic strips are finished artifacts. They are designed to be read. Their sequence is intentional and fixed. The reader is the final destination of the work. A comic strip can afford ambiguity, stylistic excess, visual metaphor, and personal voice. In fact, these qualities are often its strength. The meaning of a comic strip does not need to be resolved into a single interpretation. It can linger. It can invite multiple readings. It can slow down or speed up time purely for emotional effect.

Storyboards, by contrast, are not meant to be read as an end in themselves. They are working tools. They exist inside a process. Their audience is not the public, but collaborators. Designers, directors, curators, engineers, clients. A storyboard does not aim to express a personal voice. It aims to test whether something will work.

This difference changes everything.

A comic strip asks: what is the story?

A storyboard asks: will this story function in the real world?

Because of this, clarity matters more than expression. Ambiguity becomes a problem rather than a feature. Every frame needs to communicate intention. What happens first. What follows. Where attention goes. What the user, visitor, or viewer is expected to do next. If a frame is misunderstood, the storyboard has failed its task.

Another crucial distinction lies in permanence. A comic strip is stable. Once published, it does not change. A storyboard is provisional. It invites revision. It is drawn to be criticized, altered, reordered, or discarded. Its value lies precisely in the fact that it is not precious. It is allowed to be wrong early, so the final outcome can be right.

There is also a difference in authorship. Comic strips often carry a strong authorial presence. Even collaborative strips still speak with a recognizable voice. Storyboards, especially in design contexts, tend to dissolve authorship. They belong to the project, not to the person who drew them. Their success is measured by how well others can use them, not by how expressive they are.

Understanding this distinction is important because it frees storyboarding from the narrow association with entertainment and fiction. Once we stop thinking of storyboards as comic-like drawings, we begin to notice them everywhere. In airline safety cards. In IKEA manuals. In emergency evacuation diagrams. In exhibition walkthroughs. In participatory art instructions. In internal communication documents that were never meant to be beautiful, only effective.

So are comic strips storyboards?

Visually, they can look similar. Structurally, they share a grammar. Historically, they influence each other. But functionally, they are doing different work.

A comic strip is the story.

A storyboard is a tool for asking whether the story, the instruction, or the experience will actually hold together once it leaves the page.

Seen this way, comic strips are not the origin of storyboards, but one visible reference point among many. Storyboarding is less about drawing narratives and more about testing futures.

Refrences
Carter, Mackenzie. “Storyboard vs Comic Strip: Is a Storyboard Similar to a Comic Strip?” Boardmix, April 1, 2025, updated April 11, 2025. https://boardmix.com/articles/storyboard-vs-comcs-strip/.

Storyboards are traditionally seen as linear sequences for films, advertisements, or exhibitions. Each frame represents a step in a predetermined flow. But what if we push their form beyond these conventions? Can storyboards be applied in unexpected contexts, such as seminars or workshops about everyday topics, public transport instructions, medicine leaflets, or procedural guides, to make processes and interactions clearer and more engaging?

Could corporate manuals, participatory art instructions, or flat-pack assembly guides benefit from a storyboard approach? Can breaking down steps visually make complex or mundane tasks more intuitive? And when it comes to detail, how much is too much? Do unnecessary details risk overwhelming the viewer or diluting the story, or can they still serve the narrative?

Beyond linear sequences, could storyboards experiment with order, perspective, and time?

Can we change the order of frames to explore different flows?

Could stories unfold as parallel universes, showing multiple outcomes at once, or as many possibilities, branching from a single decision point?

Could loops repeat sequences to emphasize cycles or recurring events?

Is there value in leaving some moments untold, letting the audience imagine or interpret them?

Can a single story be shown from two perspectives, revealing new insights? Can frames jump backward and forward in time, compressing or stretching moments to highlight emotional or narrative shifts? Could storyboards go beyond straightforward sequences, exploring alternative structures, rhythms, and timing with visual elements?

If these variations make sense for our purposes, storyboards could become more than planning tools. They could transform into experimental narrative media, capable of representing complexity, abstract processes, and alternative interpretations. Could this flexibility allow storyboards to thrive in educational, creative, or communicative contexts, where linearity and simplicity are not required? Could they become a versatile tool for thinking visually, revealing processes, possibilities, and narratives in ways that words or diagrams alone cannot?

By exploring these questions, we can reconsider the form of storyboards. If used creatively, they could move from simple instruction to instruments of imagination, communication, and exploration, opening new ways to represent stories, interactions, and experiences visually.

Storyboards are not limited to internal design processes or early concept development. In many fields, they exist as finished, published artifacts created to guide action without explanation, dialogue, or supervision. In these cases, the storyboard functions as a public interface, a condensed visual language designed to be understood across cultures, ages, and levels of experience.

Instruction-Based Storyboards in Everyday Life

Common examples are IKEA and LEGO instructions. These are not narrative illustrations, but sequential frames that anticipate human action. They describe how a body moves, how hands orient objects, and in which order decisions should occur. The storyboard does not guarantee correct use, but it establishes a preferred sequence of interaction. Its effectiveness is measured by how well it reduces confusion, errors, and hesitation.

A similar logic applies to airline safety cards. These storyboards must work under stress, language barriers, and limited attention. They rely on simplified figures, clear gestures, and strict sequencing. Accuracy of representation is less important than legibility of action. What matters is not realism, but clarity. These examples underline that storyboards do not describe what will happen, but propose what should happen.

Instructional Storyboards in Public Space

In public environments, storyboards appear as evacuation diagrams, emergency instructions, or public transport guidance. These systems assume users who may be unfamiliar with the space and possibly emotionally affected. Here, the storyboard replaces verbal instruction entirely. Sequence, orientation, and visual hierarchy become critical.

Exhibitions and museums also rely on storyboard-like instruction systems. Interaction diagrams explaining where to stand, what to touch, or how to activate an installation are often communicated through short visual sequences rather than text. In participatory or hands-on exhibitions, these storyboards shape visitor behavior before architectural or graphic elements take effect. They define the rules of engagement with the space.

Participatory art installations push this further. In many cases, the artwork only exists through visitor action. The storyboard becomes a minimal visual script that explains how the work is completed through participation.

Storyboards Beyond Design Disciplines

Storyboard logic is also present in medicine leaflets, which use pictograms to explain dosage, order, and restrictions. These visuals must be unambiguous and culturally neutral, prioritizing comprehension over expression.

Children’s books without text rely entirely on visual sequencing to construct meaning. The reader learns how to interpret cause and effect, rhythm, and progression through images alone. Similarly, cookbooks focused on technique use step-by-step visuals to translate abstract instructions into embodied action.

Storyboards as Designed Expectations

Across these examples, a shared principle emerges. Storyboards are tools for aligning expectation and behavior. They reduce complexity by abstracting actions into readable sequences. Rather than predicting reality, they frame intention. This makes storyboards particularly relevant for exhibition and spatial design, where behavior cannot be controlled but can be anticipated.

The question is how a simple sequence of drawings becomes a tool strong enough to guide complex communication projects. The answer lies in the method behind the storyboard. When Persona, Scenario and Emotional Annotation are used together, the storyboard shifts from a visual narrative to a diagnostic instrument. It exposes emotional tensions, structural gaps and logical inconsistencies long before these issues can turn into costly problems during production.

The value of this method comes from its ability to simulate a realistic interaction. Each panel reflects a decision, a reaction or an expectation from the user. When these elements are placed in sequence, they reveal the internal logic of the concept. If the sequence breaks, the concept breaks. If the emotion does not match the intention, the communication fails. Because of this, the storyboard becomes a powerful testing ground for both the narrative and the structure of a communication strategy.

1. Emotional Detection

Emotional Annotation highlights how a person feels at specific stages of a task. This is a crucial diagnostic layer because many communication problems are emotional problems in disguise. Confusion signals unclear messaging. Frustration signals missing information. Hesitation signals poor guidance. When these reactions appear in the storyboard, they reveal weaknesses that could easily be overlooked in text-based plans or static sketches.

Persona strengthens this process by providing a clear point of reference. The goal is not to guess what an anonymous user might feel, but to evaluate how a specific type of person with defined motivations and limitations reacts to the message. This creates emotional accountability. If the storyboard does not produce the intended response for the chosen persona, the concept must be refined.

2. Structural and Logical Validation

The Scenario defines the sequence of actions and provides the logical backbone of the storyboard. It forces the design team to consider what happens first, what happens second and what must be understood at each step. This reveals the internal mechanics of the communication. Missing steps become visible. Overloaded moments become obvious. If a user cannot perform a task smoothly in the storyboard, the real interaction is likely to fail as well.

The visual format reinforces this diagnostic clarity. A gap in logic that might be hidden in a written outline becomes immediately noticeable when represented in a panel. The team can see the moment where the user is left without guidance or where a transition does not make sense. This early identification prevents critical misunderstandings later.

3. Risk Reduction Through Fast, Low-Fidelity Testing

The combination of Persona, Scenario and Emotional Annotation allows teams to test the core idea at an early stage without requiring expensive prototypes. The rough and quick format of the storyboard makes it easy to edit, rearrange or replace entire sections. This reduces the risk of investing time, money and effort into ideas that do not hold up under close examination.

The diagnostic strength comes from the simplicity of the format. Because the storyboard does not hide behind polish, every weakness becomes visible. This encourages honest evaluation, faster decision-making and a more reliable development process.

When the Persona defines the user, the Scenario defines the sequence and Emotional Annotation defines the internal experience, the storyboard becomes much more than a narrative tool. It becomes a method for detecting emotional, structural and logical problems before they reach development. This diagnostic process reduces risk, increases clarity and ensures that the final communication is both understandable and emotionally aligned with the user.

When we think about storyboards, we tend to picture the cinematic concept art used to pre-plan special effects or camera sequences. However, a storyboard, at its most fundamental, is simply a graphic organizer—a series of images or illustrations displayed in sequence for the purpose of pre-visualizing a project’s flow or narrative. It is a methodology for achieving conceptual clarity and effective communication, regardless of whether the final output is a film, an e-learning module, or a new product interface.

For us in Communication Design (CD), the storyboard’s structure must specifically reflect the shift from aesthetic direction to functional experience (UX/Service Design). The key components of our storyboards are strategically designed to capture user interaction and mitigate risk.

What Defines Storyboards?

The communication storyboard is built on specific elements that go beyond basic sequencing, focusing on usability, empathy, and early validation:

1. Scenario, Persona, and Visuals: Grounding the Narrative in Reality Storyboards must be grounded in reality, meaning they begin by defining a specific Scenario and the Persona who is attempting to achieve a goal. The Visuals are the sequential frames that represent each step of that persona’s journey, capturing the actions taken and the environment or interface being interacted with. This focus ensures design is tailored to authentic user needs and expectations, transforming research findings into an actionable visual story.   

2. Focus on Emotion and Annotations: The Empathy Tool This element differentiates the CD storyboard from the cinematic version. Instead of detailing technical directions like ‘camera pans,’ Annotations and Captions must explicitly capture the user’s internal experience. This means documenting the persona’s emotional state (frustration, confusion, or satisfaction) and their cognitive load at each moment. This emphasis on emotion is the primary empathy tool utilized, ensuring solutions are designed to address real behavioral pain points, not just technical steps.   

3. Structural and Logical Integrity: The Blueprint for Clarity For complex projects like technical communication, instructional content, or service flows, the storyboard acts as the crucial blueprint for structural validity. By meticulously mapping the sequence of content, it is ensured that information flows logically and that critical details—such as safety procedures or key instructional steps—are presented to the end-user in the correct, unambiguous order. This rigor is essential for preventing systemic failure, ensuring compliance, and delivering a clean, understandable user journey.   

4. Low-Fidelity for Speed and Iteration: The Risk Management Asset The visuals used in communication storyboards are often deliberately simple, rough sketches (sometimes called “scamps”). This low-fidelity approach is highly strategic: it makes the process inexpensive and incredibly fast to produce. Because these prototypes are easy to create and modify, rapid ideation and collaboration are fostered, allowing teams to explore multiple options and gather feedback immediately. This speed is a major risk management asset, as it ensures big-picture structural problems are identified and fixed early on, before costly development begins.   

By prioritizing the Persona, the Scenario, and the Annotation of internal states, the storyboard is transformed into a powerful, living artifact that actively helps find and fix problems in the user experience before the final product is launched.

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Refrences

Adobe Blog. “Prototyping: The Difference Between Low-Fidelity and High-Fidelity Prototypes and When to Use Them.”

Every Interaction. “How storyboarding can be useful in the UX Design process.” . https://www.everyinteraction.com/articles/how-storyboarding-can-be-useful-in-t.

Interaction Design Foundation. “UX Storyboards: Ultimate Guide.” . https://www.interaction-design.org/literature/article/ux-storyboards.

Ken Cook Co. “The Importance of Storyboarding in Technical Communications.” . https://www.kencook.com/blog-posts/the-importance-of-storyboarding-in-technical-communications.