Has every photograph have to tell a story?

from the series “all they left was a chair” (2012)

The other day I read a comment somewhere on Substack about storytelling in photography. I wanted to go back to it to read it again and quote it properly, but I couldn’t find it anymore. But the essence of it was that the idea of storytelling in photography has been overused lately and that it is overrated. At that moment, the comment didn’t strike me as something special and I kept browsing through my feed. But throughout the day my thoughts kept coming back these words. Has it really been overused? Is storytelling in photography overrated?

I think there is no simple answer to these questions, but I was intrigued to think a bit more about it and try to figure out where I stand on that topic. So, I went over to Google and typed in “Storytelling in Photography”. The number of search results that link to countless YouTube videos, myriads of articles and a good number of classes and workshops on that topic showed me, that it is indeed a favourite subject to talk about.

And why shouldn’t it? Storytelling is an essential part of human nature. It is something that distinguishes us from other living creatures. Whether it is in the form of ancient cave drawings, oral traditions in the form of myths and fables, or written stories. In the past, humans used every artistic medium whether it’s drawing, painting, writing, or singing to tell stories. Why should photography be any different?

from the series “all they left was a chair” (2012)

After reading that comment I started to wonder about the definition of visual storytelling. What is it exactly? And how do you define it? I searched the internet for a short answer but failed to find one. In summary, though, visual storytelling can be understood as a powerful and effective way to communicate information and ideas, evoke emotions, and engage an audience.

Which is a rather vague and broad description and doesn’t necessarily answer the question of whether every photograph has to tell a story. But what might be helpful, is to look at it from the perspectives of a photographer and of a viewer of a photograph.

This might be very subjective, but I as a photographer always strive to create images with meaning. What would be the point of photographing if it didn’t mean anything to me? The meaning can be as simple as “celebrating the beauty of nature” or “expressing the love I have for my dog”. But that doesn't necessarily mean that someone who looks at my photo gets that.

Which brings me to another perspective: the one of the viewer. As a viewer, I can approach a photograph in different ways. I can just appreciate its visual qualities, such as the subject matter or the technical aspects of the photograph. But I also can engage on a deeper level with the photograph and look at what it is beyond the visual content. I can ponder on the question of what the photographer wants to express with his work, or can make up my own story. Maybe it evokes an emotion or reminds me of something from my own past. Or it doesn't do any of these things for me.

As a photographer, I always hope that people engage with my work on a deeper level. But I don’t expect it. As a viewer, I enjoy looking at a photograph technically well-made or with a beautiful or funny subject. But I always find photographs that evoke an emotion, raise questions or make me think on a deeper level much more captivating and interesting.

from the series “all they left was a chair” (2012)

If we think of photography as a visual language, as a form of non-verbal communication, then every photograph has something to “say”. Sometimes even I as the photographer don’t understand fully what my motivation was to take a photograph. I am certain that our subconsciousness plays a role in that and sometimes leads our way - in photography as well as in life.

The photos I shared in today’s newsletter are part of an older series called “all they left was a chair”, for which I photographed solitary chairs in abandoned farmhouses in the US. I exhibited these several times and the reactions to the photographs reached from disgust (Why would anyone hang something like this in their home?), over jokes (Hey, that is my living room! How did you get in there?) to deep conversations about family, life and mortality.

I talked to a woman once, she had asked me the typical question of “Where do you find these?” and “How do you find these?”. After our little conversation, we said our goodbyes and she went off to the next room of the exhibition. She later came back, obviously moved by one particular photograph that had triggered a memory from her childhood she hadn't thought of in decades. She told me about it and talked a bit more.

These conversations are so valuable to me, because every time I talk with someone about a photograph of mine my own meaning and understanding of it expands and readjusts a little.

“Art is an unchanging thing that is never the same - a static entity somehow, whenever you experience it, seems to be inhabited by poltergeists spontaneously generating new message.” - Jerry Saltz

All that being said, I would like to end today’s newsletter with something I usually don’t do - I would like to give an advice: Make photos, whether it is of your lovely cat, the bread you just made from scratch or the beautiful fall colours out there. There has to be no big story behind it, as long as you enjoy taking photos. And share them if you feel like it. Maybe someone will look at your photo and it will evoke an emotion, trigger a memory which leads to a story or a deep conversation. Who knows…

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That’s it from me today.

Thank you for being here and for reading this week’s newsletter.

X,

Susanne

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What are you thoughts on that? Is storytelling overrated? I would love to know what you think. Please share your thoughts in the comments with me.

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