When a picture tells a story

Today I’m serving a slice of Americana. One of America’s most famous artists was Norman Rockwell, a staple of U.S. media, whose published paintings first saw press in 1916 and kept going until, I believe, sometime in the 1960s. Although he passed away in 1978 he’s still a household name.

Rockwell’s paintings were often featured as cover art on the Saturday Evening Post magazine. He did 322 such paintings, and I think that’s the work he is most widely known for. He did a lot of homey, small-town sort of paintings, capturing the golden glow of American’s hometown life.

I’m not art savvy. But I’ve noticed a couple of things about Rockwell’s works. For one thing, they are very memorable. People who saw a Rockwell painting 30 years ago can often recall it right away if you mention it.

Which leads me to the other thing: Many of his paintings tell a story. Or, maybe I should say the paintings don’t really tell a story on their own, but the people and the situations they depict trigger our minds to cast a story from what we see.

After all, the only thing more potent than telling a story is trigging someone to tell it to themselves. The hook runs deepest when it grows from within.

For example, one of his most famous works is “The Runaway,” done in 1958. It shows the backs of two customers seated at a diner counter. And it’s quite a contrast: There’s a burly, broad-shouldered state trooper atop one stool, and his bulk dwarfs the diminutive stature of a little kid sitting on the stool next to him.

But these two opposites have common ground, since their heads are turned towards each other. If a conversation hasn’t started, it’s just about to.

Underneath the kid’s stool, haphazardly placed, is a hobo-style travel kit consisting of a few small belongings tied inside a bandana which is lashed to the end of a stick.

Our minds spin a narrative at this point: The kid has run away from home. The trooper will offer sympathetic counsel which will inspire the kid to return to his family.

Many Americans can immediately recall that painting from memory if you describe it. And they’re getting their memories refreshed since the painting was in the news this week.

As it turns out, the scene for “The Runaway” was first carefully staged, posed, and photographed. Rockwell then based his painting on the photograph. It became a topic for newspapers because Richard Clemens Jr., the Massachusetts state trooper who posed in the photo, passed away on May 6 at the age of 83.

Until that story caught my eye I had just assumed that artists did their illustrations straight from the mind’s eye. But I know better now. Not that it really matters. Still, it’s interesting to get a glimpse behind the veil to see how things really get done.

Modern times have further blurred the difference between photos and paintings. My photo editing software has a feature that converts photos into images that look like they were painted. I knew a guy who had a business at a small airport doing just that. His customers were pilots who would bring in photos of their flying adventures, and the guy would push a few keys on the computer, convert the photo into what looked like a painting, then print it on canvas, and then frame it. So it wasn’t really a photo. And it wasn’t really a painting. But it was really $60, and the customers I talked to were happy with the results.

Even photos themselves can be a bit murky. Several famous WWII photographs are said to have been posed. So, do they depict truth, or fiction? I don’t have an opinion, but I suspect that people sympathetic to photo’s concept would say the pose was legitimate and necessary journalistic license, while those in the unsympathetic camp might offer a different take.

Anyway, however we get there, the power of suggestive narrative is very strong. In fact, I think it’s even stronger today that it used to be, since modern media can propagate stuff globally for nearly zero cost.

Speaking of propagating stuff, I’ll post a link to “The Runaway” on my website.

I have a couple of Norman Rockwell books stashed away. Whenever I re-encounter them it’s a good excuse to brew a pot of coffee and thumb through the pictures. There are probably millions of other people in the same camp. So whether you fancy yourself a runaway or not, I guess in some ways you really can go back home, at least for a visit.

Visit Ed Stephens Jr. at EdStephensJr.com. His column runs every Friday.