Last week, at plastic-free The Pig hotel in Dorset, luggage brand Groundtruth posed a difficult question to a select group of sustainability journalists: how do you make people care about climate change?
It’s a question that climate professionals also grapple with on a daily basis. It doesn’t just relate to the executives they have to convince to change their ways, or the consumers they hope to convince to vote with their dollars. It also applies to themselves; with burnout at an all-time high among sustainability professionals, finding the will to keep going can be an uphill battle.
Sustainability professionals are sounding alarm bells about the toll of delivering against increasingly lofty goals with tiny teams and budgets.
Groundtruth co-founder Georgia Scott, who makes documentary films about communities affected by the climate crisis, thinks about this a lot. She chose Dorset as the backdrop for this conversation because it speaks to the duality at play. The scale of plastic pollution in the ocean (also the subject of her latest documentary) is both astounding and terrifying. Spending time by the ocean is one of the few things that calms her anxiety for the climate and makes her feel hopeful enough to keep going.
This week, Vogue Business turned the question back on Scott, and five other photographers and filmmakers, to create a shared blueprint for effective climate storytelling.
Groundtruth Productions
Scott dedicated the first decade of her career to documentary filmmaking in conflict zones, before turning to the climate. In 2019, she joined forces with her husband Obaida Fahed and her sister Nina Scott to launch Groundtruth, which uses recycled plastic and captured carbon emissions to make luggage. The brand takes its name from the practice of ‘groundtruthing’, whereby filmmakers gather and verify information on the ground, through direct observation. “We spend a long time understanding the situation before pulling the camera out,” says Scott.
Groundtruth’s latest film Kuleana, which is an extension of its collaboration with the Professional Association of Diving Instructors (PADI), deals with the impact of plastic pollution on Hawaii — specifically the impact of microplastics on marine life. Scott is hoping to leverage the ongoing conversation around the Global Plastics Treaty to drive action when the film is released in September. Among the film’s harrowing scenes is one of Kamilo Beach, a formerly pristine stretch of coastline on Big Island, which is now commonly known as ‘Plastic Beach’, because so much waste washes up on its shore from the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. “When you walk on the beach, you’re walking on plastic, not sand. Children are playing with plastic, not shells. It’s very difficult to see,” says Scott.
Kuleana is narrated by actor Woody Harrelson and executive-produced by his wife, Laura. It also features major sports stars, including seven-time world surf champion Kai Lenny, Major League Baseball star Kolten Wong, freediver Kimi Werner and UFC fighter Max Holloway. The stars featured in the production have more than 10 million social media followers between them, which Scott is hoping will engage audiences who wouldn’t normally interact with climate documentaries. “One of the issues climate scientists face is that no one really listens when they’re talking about data, even though it’s incredible information,” she explains. “Lots of people idolise athletes, so when the athletes are talking to the scientists and drawing the information out of them, that’s where film can help bridge the gap.”
Climate storytellers are in the business of making people care, but that’s difficult in a world suffering from compassion fatigue. “When you see things too many times in a certain way, you become desensitised to it,” says Scott. “Added to that, people’s daily lives are really difficult and sometimes they don’t feel like they can shoulder another burden, or another example of the world being screwed up. You have to frame these stories in a way that people can digest them, which often means inspiring change.” The team has a campaign planned to turn anxiety into action, including digital toolkits for schools, a tour with some of the featured athletes and showing the film at conferences and festivals.
Sabrina Duarte
Brazilian director Sabrina Duarte started her career in audiovisual, making fashion films for major brands. Along the way, she realised there was scope to expand the medium and act as a bridge between commercial and climate storytelling. “Fashion films don’t need to be just about aesthetics and trends. They can be a powerful tool for shifting mindsets,” she says. “The fashion industry should view cinema as an ally to amplify climate narratives, using its visibility to influence conscious consumption and promote more sustainable practices, while highlighting the environmental, social and economic impacts of traditional methods and showcasing better alternatives.”
Now We Live in Paradise is Duarte’s latest offering, commissioned by Textile Exchange to show how the materials in clothing can be used to nourish the land. It follows five smallholder cotton and cattle farmers across Brazil as they restore degraded land and invest in biodiversity. The film takes its name from a reflection shared by one of the farmers: “Hoje eu moro no paraíso.”
While the film has a clear agenda, Duarte says it was important to go into the process open to various narratives. “We are meeting families before we are finding a story,” she explains. “They were in their daily routines and we tried to interfere as little as possible. The main goal was to learn. It is not just about capturing images or facts, but about creating a space for these voices to be heard. We left each home overwhelmed with new knowledge and a fresh perspective on the world.”
Emma Håkansson
Two years ago, activist and filmmaker Emma Håkansson was invited to judge Fashion Film Festival Milano. The experience taught her that beautiful storytelling could enter the mainstream in a way hard-hitting sustainability reports struggled to. So when it came to filming her latest documentary, she focused on the cinematography and made the underlying sustainability message a mere “whisper”.
Shiringa tells the story of the Awajún, an Indigenous community in the Peruvian Amazon. The community has been collaborating with Lima-based designer Mozhdeh Matin and biomaterials company Caxacori Studio to develop organic latex extracted from the shiringa tree into bioleather, turning an ancestral practice into a means of economic advancement while pushing back against deforestation (the shiringa tree stays standing as the latex is extracted). “There is a lot more cushioning in this film,” explains Håkansson. “When there is footage of deforestation or the treatment of animals in cattle ranches, it’s a filmed image on a piece of fabric and there are people in front of it, so there’s more distance from the viewer. I hope that allows people to feel less confronted in a way that blocks them off, and makes them more willing to take on the message. You need to be able to tell the same story in a lot of different ways.”
Shiringa is the first in a series of short films from Håkansson and her non-profit Collective Fashion Justice, focusing on next-gen alternatives to animal products. The impact of such storytelling can be difficult to quantify, but Shiringa has specific KPIs, including the number of brands connected with Caxacori Studio through the film, the volume of bioleather trials and samples completed as a result, and the amount of investment secured to support the Awajún community. Despite dealing with difficult themes, it manages to leave the viewer feeling uplifted. “Shiringa shows the fashion industry at its worst and its best, but the emphasis is on the best,” says Håkansson. “It’s a solutions-focused film.”
Chris Nelson, Lewis Arnold and Demi Taylor
On the banks of the Mississippi River in Louisiana, a former slave plantation now houses the Denka chemical factory, which produces the main material used for wetsuits: chloroprene rubber (neoprene). The predominantly Black and low-income communities surrounding the factory face the highest cancer risk in the US — 50-times higher than the national average, according to the documentary — due to the toxic production processes (the area is commonly known as ‘Cancer Alley’). On the other end of the neoprene supply chain, surfers are taking these products into our oceans, shedding microplastics as they shred waves. This is the subject of Chris Nelson, Lewis Arnold and Demi Taylor’s documentary The Big Sea.
By connecting Cancer Alley to a specific product and industry, Nelson sought to mobilise consumers to hold brands accountable. Part of the challenge was tracking complex and opaque neoprene supply chains and finding viable alternatives. This was a process: researchers initially thought limestone would be better than conventional neoprene, but it was later found to be more carbon intensive. Now, the common consensus is that natural rubber is best.
Where other documentaries seek to make splashy and sensationalist headlines, Nelson was focused on solutions. “Other filmmakers want to make their issue look as bad as possible. We wanted to show the shocking impacts of neoprene production, but we also spoke to brands and manufacturers from the beginning to highlight solutions and show how people were making a change.” One of the brands that made a switch based on The Big Sea is Amsterdam-based wetsuit brand Wallien, which swapped from conventional neoprene to limestone and then again to Yulex (a brand of natural rubber) because of Nelson’s findings. “We spoke to Chris on a Friday and stopped production that Monday,” says co-founder Olivier Wallien. “We took a risk and lost some money, but we needed to do something. I had shivers when I saw the documentary.”
Hoping to avoid the “white saviour” complex commonly associated with climate storytelling, Nelson decided to do away with voiceovers and narrators, and pass the microphone to the people directly affected. “One of our first decisions was that the people of Cancer Alley had to explain to the viewer how this impacts their lives in their own words.”
Eunice Pais
Eunice Pais is the founder of Pais Agency, a photo studio that aims to make the physical process of climate storytelling more sustainable. Many of her projects are shot using natural light only, on locations that don’t disturb local flora and fauna using models that challenge conventional beauty standards and expand the narrative of representation. “Photography should be a partner in sustainability, not just an aesthetics tool,” she says. “As climate storytellers, we have a responsibility to interrogate our work and have open conversations about how we create and what our work is used for. I always ask: what happens after this story is told? If this work was commissioned, how can I ensure some of the resources flow back into the place and the people who made it possible? How can power and opportunities be redistributed and made circular?”
Heirlooming is an ongoing project where Pais collaborates with textile and fashion designers who work with inherited or discarded embroidery and crochet pieces. These objects, she says, are “often dismissed as outdated or purely domestic objects”, but “can act as vessels for memory and communication”. Pais often focuses her work on an artisan’s hands, and the sentimental value of textile art, to encourage the viewer to form an emotional connection with climate storytelling.
“Facts alone aren’t enough to move people to action,” she says. “However, emotion can act as an anchor. The process of creating Heirlooming reaffirmed my belief that climate narratives are most impactful when they are rooted in something that resonates with humanity. Sustainability isn’t just about innovation; it’s also about honouring what already exists.”
Anass Ouaziz
Moroccan photographer Anass Ouaziz considers storytelling to be an exercise in observation, with stories emerging “simply by paying attention”. Where a storyteller directs their attention says a lot about who and what they deem worthy of it.
When Ouaziz won the inaugural Textile Exchange and Magnum Photos photography competition, he turned his attention to the Büyük Menderes River Basin in Türkiye, to document how cotton farming is impacting biodiversity there. “This story felt particularly impactful to me because the area around the Söke plain in Türkiye holds many similarities to my home country,” he says. “Both regions face significant challenges from climate change, including water scarcity, soil degradation and the need for more sustainable, resilient agricultural practices. The story reflects struggles I’ve observed in Moroccan agriculture and highlights potential solutions that could inspire similar initiatives back home. It is about regenerative agriculture in a real-world context, particularly in a climate-vulnerable region, and celebrates the farmers’ commitments to protecting the environment while maintaining agricultural productivity.”
His work shows the potential of storytelling to make the abstract concepts fashion is grappling with — from carbon emissions to agriculture transitions — feel more real. It’s important to balance these heavy topics with hope, says Ouaziz. He did this through close-up shots that show the beauty in seemingly mundane farming activities: the light dancing across cotton fields, the texture of soil covered by mulch and the intimate farmer portraits that highlight the connection between people and nature. “Effective, engaging climate storytelling is about combining the science with the personal,” he explains. “The goal is to foster empathy by connecting audiences to tangible examples of progress, not just abstract concepts. I strive for a balance between acknowledging the harsh realities of climate challenges and sharing stories of hope and change, ensuring that the storytelling remains engaging without overwhelming or alienating the audience.”
Correction: Kuleana will be released in September. Georgia Scott runs Groundtruth with her sister and husband. Her other sister, Sophia Scott-Milln, has stepped back from the company. (13/02/2025)
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