When it comes to painting, do you prefer an image that shows an episode in action or one that presents the individual in a still, concentrated pose? Do you prefer an active scene or a portrait? Regardless of which you prefer, both formats convey stories.

Every painting tells a story. Narrative was injected into Western art with the advent of the technique of perspective that emerged during the late middle ages and was perfected with the Renassaiance masters. Prior to that time, most high art was paid for by religious or noble institutions and focused not on drama and story as with presenting the viewer, usually illiterate peasants, with an ordered philosophical view of the world -- dogmatic non-fiction. However, as the mimetic quality of the artist’s technique improved, the realm of visual arts became more experimental, and artists could expand their work’s narrative potential. Michelangelo’s Last Judgment, while officially an altarpiece showing the Armageddon, could very well have been a graphic novel or comic book.

The art was intended to capture a single momentary vision, but this single moment either implies, hits at, or teases us about the moments that immediately proceed the images, and those that will come after. Sometimes the story is clear, such with the perennial favorite of Christian art: the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth. The entire story would have been clear to everyone who saw it -- Christ suffered, died, and would rise and conquer death. The Renaissance painters was so good at this kind of story telling that they were able to distract Church hierarchy and compelled them to willfully ignore the creeping hand of humanism in their work.

Other works invoke a national narrative, such as Emanuel Leutze’s Washington Crossing the Delaware. The picture implies the loading and unloading of the patriots’ boats, as well as the larger story of Washington’s surprise victory over Hessian mercenaries on Christmas Eve. Sure, the painting has Washington and his men headed in the wrong direction across the river and the boats portrayed are much smaller than the actual boats used. But the story is told clearly, regardless of historical inaccuracy. Even without any knowledge of American history, one could glean from Leutze’s artistic celebration the resolve on the central standing man’s face (Washington’s) in contrast to the rest of the men in the dinghies. He is looking to the horizon, which is usually interpreted as implying the future, while most of his men are focused to the immediate discomfort and peril of the river. Thus, even without knowing anything about Washington the man or the Revolutionary War, a viewer could piece together the general emotions of the story.

Indeed, some of the most popular narrative works withhold the actual plot from the viewer. In Andrew Wyeth’s Christiana’s World, we see the back of a woman lying in a field looking toward and reaching out to a farm house some distance way. Even without seeing the woman’s face, the tragedy and desperation of the scene are evident. We don’t know any facts about the world that Christina occupies, but we can feel her pain nonetheless.

Photographs are the same way – they all tell a story. When selecting photographs to display in your home or to transfer into a custom oil painting, consider what story each image tells. What story are you trying to tell to those who enter your home? When flipping through your photographs, stop at those that make you smile – or even laugh – and think about what they say. Probably they say something good. If they make you smile, the story is probably a good one, and those are stories worth sharing.