“To be understood without feeling exposed.”
That line stopped me cold.
Not because it was clever.
Because it felt true.
I had been experimenting with an imaginary conversation between two fictionalized versions of real people. One character was called The Firewalker. The other was called The Lantern.
The conversation unfolded like neither of them knew where it was going.
Which is usually when something interesting happens.
2/9
The problem with making personal stories
The original conversation was beautiful.
It was also dangerous.
Not dangerous in the dramatic sense.
Dangerous because it contained vulnerability.
The more I looked at it, the more I realized I couldn’t simply turn it into a video about the people who inspired it.
The conversation wasn’t really about them anyway.
It was about something larger.
Recognition.
Connection.
The strange tension between wanting to be seen and wanting to remain safe.
So I started asking myself a different question:
What if I removed the people entirely?
What if all that remained were symbols?
3/9
Step 1: Turning people into archetypes
The breakthrough came when I stopped thinking about individuals.
Instead I created two archetypes:
• The Firewalker
• The Lantern
The Firewalker is curious enough to walk directly into difficult truths.
The Lantern moves carefully because some things are worth protecting.
Suddenly the conversation became less like a biography and more like a fable.
Lab note:
This happens surprisingly often in creative work.
When you stop trying to describe a person and start describing a pattern, the work becomes more universal instead of less personal.
4/9
Step 2: Removing the actors
My first instinct was to use two voices.
A male voice.
A female voice.
Simple enough.
Then I realized something.
The moment two actors appear on screen, the audience starts asking questions I didn’t want them asking.
Who are these people?
Are they a couple?
Who inspired this?
The story immediately shrinks.
Instead, I decided to use a single narrator.
An older, wise voice in the style of Michael Caine.
Not performing.
Not acting.
Just telling a story beside a fire.
That one decision transformed the entire project.
Now it felt like a fairy tale for grown-ups.
5/9
Step 3: Building a symbolic world
The video runs about six and a half minutes.
That meant approximately fifty-six images using slow Ken Burns movement.
The challenge wasn’t generating images.
The challenge was creating a visual language.
The recurring symbols became:
• Lanterns
• Forest paths
• Mist
• Firelight
• Streams
• Windows
• Dawn
The lantern appears in nearly every image.
Sometimes obvious.
Sometimes hidden.
Sometimes only a reflection.
The audience probably won’t consciously notice.
Their subconscious will.
Lab note:
Repetition is one of the secret superpowers of visual storytelling.
Not repetition of shots.
Repetition of ideas.
6/9
Step 4: Choosing an artistic style
I deliberately avoided photorealism.
I also avoided anything that looked cinematic.
That sounds strange coming from a video creator.
But realism was getting in the way.
This story wanted to feel remembered.
Not photographed.
The solution was luminous watercolor storybook paintings.
Visible paper texture.
Painterly brushwork.
Warm lantern gold.
Deep twilight blues.
The result feels less like a film and more like a memory someone illustrated decades ago.
Honestly, Midjourney behaved much better once I stopped asking it to imitate reality.
7/9
Tools & Creative Stack
Writing & Development
• ChatGPT
• Human overthinking
Visual Creation
• Midjourney
Narration
• AI voice modeled after the warmth and cadence of Michael Caine
Editing
• Kdenlive
• PhtoFilmStrip – Slow Ken Burns movement
• Layered audio design
Music
• Custom AI-assisted composition
• Female vocal outro
• D minor
• 80 BPM
• Felt piano
• Cello
• Viola
Approximate Cost
• Midjourney subscription
• Voice generation credits
• One evening of my life I will never get back
Worth it.
8/9
The real lesson
The surprising discovery wasn’t technical.
It was emotional.
I kept trying to protect the story by removing details.
Instead, the story became stronger.
The less specific it became, the more recognizable it felt.
The Firewalker and The Lantern are fictional.
And somehow they are also completely real.
That’s the strange alchemy of storytelling.
You hide a truth inside a metaphor.
Then people find themselves inside it.
9/9
I often think AI is at its best when it behaves less like a machine and more like a collaborator.
Not because it replaces creativity.
Because it gives creativity something to react against.
This project wasn’t created by AI.
It wasn’t created by me either.
It emerged somewhere in the conversation between us.
Like a lantern beside a forest path.
Quietly waiting for someone who needed it.
TL;DR
I turned a deeply personal conversation into a symbolic fairy tale using AI narration, Midjourney watercolor illustrations, and a lantern that appears in almost every frame.
The funny part?
The more I hid the people, the more clearly the story revealed them.
Steve Teare
video alchemist
TerminallyBored.Monster
Palouse, Washington USA