In a world where storytelling is increasingly at the core of art, I sometimes wonder: does every work of art really need a narrative? Must we always seek out or even create a story to justify the value of a work?
In my own work, I move between these two approaches. Some projects, like Peak, Mukono, Champions, and Karawan, are deeply narrative. They tell stories about places, people and cultures that inspire me. They draw the viewer into a context - from the rugged beauty of the mountains to the vitality of a community. But there are also moments when I create purely from intuition, without a story or deeper layer. This freedom is essential. It allows me to make art that comes from a feeling rather than a concept.
Working without a story leaves your mind open to all possibilities. It's detached from a goal, a direction, or an intention. It gets you, as an artist, where you want to be: in your most creative state. It's a space for spontaneity, for exploration without constraints. This intuitive process shapes every creative choice-composition, tone, and subject matter-because it comes from openness, not a fixed plan. Ultimately, art doesn't need a story to be meaningful, but when it carries one, it can deepen the experience. The absence of a story invites interpretation, while the presence of one provides direction. Both have their place in the world of art.
Perhaps this is the true power of art: it doesn't have to explain itself. Sometimes it's enough just to experience it, without expectations or rules. Art often carries meaning, but the artist doesn't always have to share it. Sometimes the story is in the emotion, the movement, the contrast of black and white, or even the silence in a composition. It doesn't need words to evoke something - it lives in what the viewer sees and feels.
This tension between storytelling and openness isn't just about the artist's intentions - it's about how art exists in the mind of the viewer. Each person brings their own memories, emotions, and interpretations to a work of art. A single image can evoke countless narratives, depending on who sees it and where they are in life. In this way, art becomes a shared experience, a silent dialog between the creator and the audience.
This idea of art as a vessel for meaning, narrative or otherwise, is not new. Civilizations have long used art to communicate, both with and without explicit stories. Think of civilizations without written language, like the Aboriginal people of Australia, who used songlines to pass on knowledge and culture. That's art at its most narrative. But even without explicit stories, a work of art can serve as a hook for people to attach their own meaning to.
In my work, I've found that whether art moves us through a story or through the silence of a moment, the most important thing is that it leaves a mark. That's the true essence.