Have you ever wondered why certain stories just hit us in a different way? Why some images, whether on the screen or in your head, have this uncanny way of sticking with you, gnawing at your brain like a persistent earworm? Chances are, you're in the grasp of something archetypal; those universal, almost sneaky patterns of theme and form that are hardwired into our very being. Yes, I said hardwired. These aren't just quaint ideas floating around in the ether; they're embedded, ingrained; as ancient as our species. And like that last biscuit in the tin that you forgot was there, you might not always be aware of them, but you know, somewhere, there’s a lost custard cream, alone and in the dark. Its curly pattern decoration, a labyrinth of buttery confusion and you are Theseus. 

Archetypes have been lurking around in the shadows of human consciousness since the days when we were more worried about large-toothed cats jumping out on us. The term ‘archetype’ itself was brought in to the light by none other than Carl Jung, that Swiss psychiatrist who moonlighted as a bit of a mystic. Jung was obsessed with these universal themes, arguing that they were expressions of our collective unconscious. “Archetypes,” Jung once mused, “are like riverbeds which dry up when the water deserts them, but which it can find again at any time.” And here we are, still dipping into these ancient waters. 

Creativity: Are We Just Remixing the Old Hits? 

Our popular culture is peppered with reboots and remakes; it’s like they’re not even trying to hide the fact that we’ve seen this all before. The thing is, archetypes aren’t apparent lazy writing; they’re also the secret sauce, they are actually why these stories and characters chime with us so resolutely. They tap in to something primal. Something that connects us across time, space, and, dare I say, taste. The hero’s journey? Yeah, that’s been around since Gilgamesh was hacking his way through Mesopotamia. The concept of the monomyth and the hero with a thousand faces was made famous by one of my heroes, the anthropologist scholar Joseph Campbell. Campbell’s work shines a light on the mechanics of storytelling, a treasure trove of ideas that have been an inspiration to writers and filmmakers since it was published in 1949. 

Heroes come in all shapes and sizes and across all mediums. Let’s take David Bowie’s album, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. This wasn’t just a rock record; it was a manifestation of the archetype of the ‘tragic hero, the rock star who burns too bright and burns out too fast. Bowie created the character as a way to explore themes of identity, fame, and the alienation often felt by those in the spotlight. Emerging in the early 1970s, Ziggy Stardust was a flamboyant, androgynous rock star from outer space, a creation that drew inspiration from many sources. Bowie, who had long been fascinated with the idea of using personas to express different aspects of himself, saw Ziggy as an opportunity to push the boundaries of music, fashion and performance art, and perhaps use the character as a shield. A way of distancing his real self from the ever-increasing pressure of fame and stardom. Ziggy is indeed the hero with a thousand faces, incarnate in one body, a living myth, a character that was both alien and deeply human, embodying the tensions and contradictions that all tragic heroes carry.   

Ziggy Stardust is the perfect amalgamation of two mythological figures drawn from Ancient Greece. Firstly, Ziggy’s story closely parallels that of Icarus, a figure who flew too close to the sun with wings made of feathers and wax. Despite warnings from his father, Daedalus, Icarus was overwhelmed by the thrill of flying and the desire to ascend higher, which ultimately led to his downfall when the sun melted his wings. Like Icarus, Ziggy, a rock star who, seduced by fame and excess, soars to great heights but eventually crashes and burns.  

The other mythological figure to make up the complete being is Narcissus, the beautiful youth who fell in love with his own reflection. Narcissus's story speaks to themes of vanity, self-obsession, and the isolating effects of such intense self-focus. In the case of Ziggy Stardust, the character's descent into madness and self-destruction can be seen as a reflection of Narcissus's fate; heady stuff indeed. 

Or take The Dark Knight (yes, the one with Heath Ledger’s Joker). It’s not just a superhero movie; it’s a modern-day interpretation of the ‘chaos vs. order’ archetype. The Joker is the embodiment of chaos, an agent of pure anarchy who exists to challenge the established order that Batman represents. The film’s brilliance lies in how it taps into this archetype, making us question where the line between hero and villain really lies. Is Batman the bringer of order, or is he just another form of chaos, masked under a cowl? We’re not just watching a film; we’re engaging with the timeless struggle between chaos and order, a theme as old as storytelling itself. Often, these messages skate across the eyes of the average multiplex audience. But they run deep. 

Archetypes in Our Work: Why Your Next Whiteboard Animation Might Need a Hero 

You might be thinking, “Great, but what does this have to do with our work at We Are Cognitive?” Everything. Archetypes aren’t just for epic poems and rock operas; they’re the skeleton key to unlocking meaning in visual storytelling. When we create a whiteboard animation, we’re not just drawing on a board; we’re tapping into these universal patterns. Whether it’s an explainer video or a rich picture, understanding and utilising archetypes allows us to connect with audiences on a deeper, almost instinctual level. 

Let’s take a typical explainer video. You’re laying out information; maybe it’s a step-by-step guide to using a product. Now, you could just stick to the facts, but where’s the fun in that? Instead, what if you framed this as a hero’s journey? The user becomes the hero, the product is their sword, and the obstacles they face are the trials along the way. Suddenly, you’re not just explaining; you’re inspiring action, tapping into that archetypal desire to overcome and succeed. 

Four Pillars: Principles that prop up your stories

Our four pillars—inform, teach, enable, and inspire—aren’t just about making information accessible; they’re about using these deep-seated patterns to change the way people think, feel, and act. When we inform, we’re not just dumping data; we’re casting the archetype of the ‘wise mentor.’ When we teach, we’re guiding the audience through the ‘initiation’ phase of their journey. Enablement? That’s the archetypal ‘threshold guardian’ at the gate. And inspiration? Well, that’s the ultimate boon; the treasure at the end of the quest that every hero seeks. 

A Brief Moment of Self-Reflection: Are We All Just Playing Out Scripts? 

If you’re starting to feel like we’re all just marionettes dancing to some ancient tune, well, you’re not entirely wrong. Archetypes do script our lives in some ways, but here’s the twist - they’re not prescriptions; they’re prompts. How you fill in the details, how you choose to play your role, is entirely up to you. 

 At We Are Cognitive, we’ve taken these archetypal prompts and turned them into a methodology that helps people change; not by telling them what to do, but by showing them the possibilities. When you can see your own life, your work and your challenges through the lens of these universal patterns, things start to make a whole lot more sense. 

Surprise, Surprise: Examples That’ll Make You Rethink Everything 

 Let’s throw in a couple of curveballs, shall we? How about Pablo Picasso’s Guernica and Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction? At first glance, these two creative outputs seem worlds apart. But both are brilliant exercises in archetypal storytelling. 

Guernica, Picasso’s monumental work, is more than an anti-war statement. It’s an embodiment of the archetype of the ‘apocalypse’; not in the biblical sense, but as an unveiling of truth. Picasso used archetypal imagery - the bull, the horse, the distorted human figures - to communicate the chaos and horror of war in a way that words simply couldn’t. 

On the flip side, Pulp Fiction may seem like a chaotic mishmash of crime drama, but it’s actually a clever play on the archetype of the ‘trickster.’ Tarantino took narrative conventions, twisted them into a pretzel, and handed us a film that defies linear storytelling, challenging our perceptions and expectations at every turn. Both Guernica and Pulp Fiction show us that archetypes don’t just belong in the distant past; they’re right here, now, being reshaped and reinterpreted in ways that keep them alive and kicking. 

Pulp Fiction is more than just a postmodern cinematic masterpiece; it's a clever invocation of the archetypal ‘trickster god’. The trickster, a figure found in myths across cultures, is a boundary-crosser, a rule-breaker, and a disruptor of norms. In Pulp Fiction, Tarantino doesn’t just tell a story; he deconstructs narrative conventions, playing with time, genre and expectation much like the trickster gods of old - Loki in Norse mythology or Hermes in Greek tales. 

The film’s non-linear structure, the darkly humorous dialogues, and the subversion of genre tropes all echo the trickster’s penchant for mischief and chaos. The characters, particularly Jules and Vincent, navigate a world where nothing is straightforward, where the traditional lines between good and evil blur. Tarantino, like the trickster, forces us to confront the absurdity and randomness of life, challenging our preconceived notions of morality and causality. 

By embodying the trickster archetype, Pulp Fiction becomes a cinematic playground where rules are bent and reality is a fluid concept, reminding us that sometimes, to truly understand the world, we must embrace its inherent chaos and unpredictability. 

In The Power of Myth, Joseph Campbell discusses the concept of duality and the role of the trickster figure in mythology, including the significance of masks like the two-faced mask. Campbell emphasises that the trickster embodies the contradictions and ambiguities of life, often serving as a mediator between the sacred and the profane, the order and the chaos. 

Campbell highlights that the trickster, often depicted with a dual nature or dual faces, represents the inherent paradoxes within human existence. He suggests that this duality is essential to understanding the deeper truths of life. The trickster, through his unpredictable actions and deceit, challenges the established order and forces people to confront the contradictions within themselves and their societies. 

In his discussions, Campbell notes that the two-faced mask symbolises this duality, reminding us that we are not simple, one-dimensional beings. Instead, we all carry multiple aspects within ourselves; light and dark, good and evil, order and chaos. Campbell explains that mythology, through figures like the trickster and symbols like the two-faced mask, provides a framework for exploring these complexities and helps us navigate the tensions and conflicts inherent in life. 

Ultimately, Campbell sees the trickster and the two-faced mask as powerful tools for self-reflection, allowing us to embrace the totality of our nature and the world around us. 

A Final Word: What Are We Really Doing Here? 

So, what’s the takeaway from all this? Archetypes are more than just dusty concepts for academics to argue over. They’re tools, powerful ones, that can help us craft stories, explain ideas, and connect with people on a level that goes beyond the rational mind. When we acknowledge and harness these patterns in our work at We Are Cognitive, we’re not just making content; we’re creating experiences that resonate, that inspire, that change people.  

Further Reading: Man and His Symbols by Carl Jung 

If this exploration into the world of archetypes has sparked your curiosity, I’d recommend diving into Carl Jung’s Man and His Symbols. This book explores the archetypal images that populate our dreams, myths and cultural expressions. Jung breaks down complex ideas into accessible insights, making this an essential read for anyone interested in understanding the hidden forces that shape our thoughts and actions. The reason this book is particularly relevant to our design principle is that it lays out the psychological framework that underpins much of what we do in visual storytelling. It’s like getting the blueprint for the mind’s operating system. And who wouldn’t want that? 

Keep experimenting, keep iterating, and most importantly, keep thinking visually! 

Until next time – adios! 

Warm regards, 

Andrew and the Visual Thinking Toolkit Team