VISUAL INTERPRETATION AND THE POWER OF STORYTELLING

 

I recently found myself reflecting on Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s talk, The Danger of a Single Story. And naturally, I related it to my art.

The beauty of an image, especially when paired with a caption, is that we give meaning to it by the story we decide to tell.

Take the image you’re looking at, for instance: the girl on the train.

We see dark skies. Immediately, questions arise. Is it late evening? Or an early morning commute? She’s holding a hot beverage, coffee perhaps, or tea, something to warm her up and start her day. Or maybe she’s wrapping up the day in a cold winter in New York, holding a hot chocolate to fight the chill. She’s dressed warmly after all.

But then… does it even have to be a train?

Could she be on a bus in a cold July in Kenya? Starting her journey from the city, leaving for the countryside? Or maybe she’s not traveling far at all, maybe she’s simply stuck in Nairobi traffic, holding her cup of tea as the morning drags on. Watching the world move slowly outside her window.

The narrative belongs to you.

And that’s the beauty of art, it is open to interpretation.

That’s why I speak about the danger of a single story.

As an artist, I always find it interesting when I’m asked to explain my art. Most times, I draw led by emotion. I channel my imagination based on what inspires me in that moment. I am not always planning every detail or mapping out the meaning beforehand. I create first. I feel first. And then once it’s complete, I’m almost forced to give it meaning.

It feels like working backwards.

Painting without fully knowing what will come out of it, and only afterward asking myself, what does this make me feel? What is this saying?

And once I articulate that meaning, it can sometimes feel like that becomes the “official” version. As though everyone must now see it that way. Whether it was intentional or not. Whether the moment was simply driven by instinct, emotion, and my dependence on my talent.

But here’s the irony.

Sometimes we do plan. Sometimes we draw based on what we see around us. The themes we set. The environments we’re placed in. The inspiration that meets us in a particular season. And so, we create intentionally.

Yet even then, once the artwork is complete, it no longer belongs to us alone.

Because an image is always open to interpretation.

And I believe that’s the real beauty of art.

What you see.
What you feel.
What meaning do you attach to it?

Not just as the artist, but as the viewer upon completion.

It becomes a conversation. It can determine whether we connect. Whether we see the same thing or something entirely different. And honestly, that difference is the fun part.

Do we all have to see one story because of its description?

Or can we allow ourselves to see something else?

Let me know what you see.

Maybe she’s thinking about her day. Maybe she’s reflecting. Maybe the train is moving. Maybe it’s at a standstill. Maybe you relate to her. Maybe you believe she’s carrying thoughts you’ve carried before during your own quiet commute.

And here’s something else I’ve realized: the meaning can change over time.

The way you see a piece today may not be how you see it tomorrow. Your experiences shift. Your emotions evolve. And suddenly the same image carries a completely different story.

There’s so much we can see in a single image.

And that to me is the beauty of it all.