Propaganda versus Narrative
Every space tells a story - this is my living room at Yellow Wood.
Propaganda is what organizations say. Narrative is what people feel.
I’ve walked into companies where the walls were plastered with slogans about collaboration and innovation — but the office itself was a maze of high partitions, closed doors, and silence. The propaganda said one thing. The space told another story. And everyone felt it.
Museums do this too. Wall texts proclaim inclusion, but the languages chosen — or not chosen — tell visitors whether they belong. A white-box gallery can sterilize an artist’s work, no matter how inclusive the press release claims to be. The propaganda insists; the space contradicts.
People don’t remember what you tell them. They remember how you make them feel.
Friday night, I watched our friend Mark make bacon cannoli — the bacon as the shell, filled with sweet cream and chocolate chips. It was so delightfully odd and thoughtful that it became a kind of performance: familiar yet surprising, deeply human. My husband Michael’s eyes lit up — I thought, these are our people. I’ll remember that moment forever, not because of what was said, but because of what it felt like.
That’s what I aim for in design — storytelling through space, materials, light, and even scent. A bench that invites gathering. A texture that feels alive. A gallery that lets you wander instead of funneling you toward a single viewpoint. These gestures aren’t decoration; they’re narrative. They tell the truth about who you are and what you value.
The real work of transformation isn’t finding a clever slogan. It’s uncovering an authentic identity — then weaving it through everything: the workplace, the culture, the website, the home. Every space has the power to reinforce the story or to betray it.
My own home, Yellow Wood, shared with my husband Michael Moroney, is a living example. Layer by layer, it’s become a reflection of us — the colors we live with, the objects that make us laugh, the animals who animate it. We’ve renovated it in phases, from a weekend escape into a full-time sanctuary, respecting the bones while making it wholly our own. You can now explore its story on my website: https://caracragan.com/yellow-wood.
Ultimately, our spaces — whether homes, offices, or museums — are mirrors of our values. Propaganda tells. Narrative shows. And in the end, it’s the narrative — the way a space makes you feel — that people believe.
Mark’s bacon cannoli — delightfully strange, and completely unforgettable.