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The Postman

As part of my BA (Hons) Interaction Design Arts course

at London College of Communication


Text / Acrylic on paper

114.5 x 45cm each

December 2020 ~ January 2021

We were given a brief to look at the worlds contained within a text and how we would visualise them, which is up to our own interpretation.

Focusing on storytelling techniques, I began questioning the ways in which narratives have been communicated and presented. The way that stories are told makes a difference in the reader's experience as well, regardless of the content.

For 'The Postman', I looked at the conventional means by which biology have been written and understood, and rewrote the process of the circulatory system in the form of prose and a comic.

The Postman


Breathing heavy, I look out at the vast tunnel in front of me.


The others are scuttling next to me, footsteps in a hurry as they carry their parcels on hand. We constantly have to be on the move.


I pick up the packages and is immediately swept away by the flurry of haste around me. I was provided with no instructions on what to do, but simply to take what I’ve been given and follow the others. It’s a well-oiled and fast-paced system that no one has the time to question or take issue with. In about 120 days, I’ll be replaced.


After rushing down the tunnel, I enter a cavernous rotunda, where more of us are entering through another tunnel on the right. There is only one way to exit, which is through the pair of lofty doors in front of us, constantly being pushed open as more of us make our way out with each loud thump of the closing doors.


Once I got through, I slide down a steep slope, precariously holding onto the blue parcels so they don’t slip. I bump straight into the back of the person in front of me, and as I look up, everyone is packed together with barely any space to move. As more and more individuals enter and gather behind me, the chamber starts to fill up and progressively becomes a lot stuffier. When there’s no more room left to accommodate any more individuals, the ones at the front of the crowd ram the latched doorway open as we flood out.


From here, I have to run. Shoved by the horde behind me as the doorway closes and the number of occupants in the previous room packs up again, we have no choice but to sprint or be trampled over. Faced with a number of passages, I dart down each possible opening as they increasingly get more complicated and narrow, not intending on a place to go but simply to avoid obstructing the rapid surge of individuals behind me.


I eventually arrive at a crescent-shaped corridor with windows along one of the curved sides. Like clockwork, we drop the parcels into a window in exchange for new ones to be delivered. I toss the bundle of goods I have into a window, was handed the red ones that I’ll have to distribute, and quickly make my way out of the corridor. 


Pacing down the passageways, I reach a separate rotunda, similar to the one I first entered but with a more concrete build. Going through a near identical pair of towering doors, the chamber that I enter is the most extensive and substantial by far.


Enormous columns rise up to form the arched ceiling, with rows and rows of individuals huddled to get through to the exit — an imposing set of gates that will lead me to the final destination for my first lap. As we stream out of the hall, the race begins again where I’ll have to make my way through intricate mazes to deliver the packages to the right places.


Breathing heavy, I look out at the vast tunnel in front of me.

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