The Efficacy of Storytelling in Art:
Beyond Technical Mastery
Scrolling through social media reveals a world saturated with art—beautifully executed pieces that showcase impressive technical skill. Some of these works stand alone, offering answers, while others do their job by leaving more questions than they provide solutions. But what I see often lacks something deeper—something essential to art that goes beyond mere technique.
When it comes to art, especially in the context of reportage and documentary styles like the Marine Corps Combat Art Program, the importance of storytelling cannot be overstated. Yes, technical execution is essential, particularly in portraits or landscapes. But in art meant to capture a moment in history, a place, or a personal experience, the power of storytelling is what makes a piece resonate beyond its surface.
Take, for example, the work of Paul Heaston, (his Instagram is well-worth the follow) a non-Marine artist whose drawings I admire greatly. His work is full of character and context, not just technical proficiency. His car-icatures (like this ‘Blue Bug’ for example) or studies of enormous Locomotives do more than simply depict an image—they tell a story. Each piece feels alive because it isn’t just about the subject. It’s about the context—the world surrounding it. Whether it's the challenge of drawing in a life drawing class when he can’t see the model or sharing a cup of coffee with his friend Clyde, Paul’s work feels like a snapshot of life, a moment that was lived, not just observed. His art doesn’t need voiceovers or captions, but these only enhance the story within.
The narrative isn’t just about what’s drawn; it’s about the emotions, the sensations, and the lived experiences that inform that drawing. Art, especially reportage art, can be much more than visual documentation—it should evoke the feeling of the moment. This is where a lot of technically impressive work falls short. There are plenty of "pictures" out there that nail perspective, shading, and form, but they lack the artist’s soul. They lack the personal injection that turns a drawing into an experience.
For instance, in Marine Corps Combat Art, there are numerous pieces that are spot-on from a technical perspective. They’re accurate depictions of military life, of combat, of training—but they don’t give us that visceral experience of the moment. What’s missing is that narrative quality, that depth of emotion that takes a viewer beyond the surface and into the heart of the scene. This is where artists like Charles Waterhouse, Mike Fay, and Victor Juhasz (and several others) excel. Their work doesn’t just show what happened; it conveys the feeling of being there.
Take Mike Fay’s paintings, for example. His work is always technically proficient and his field sketches are truly unmatched, but it’s the stories embedded in those pieces that make them so powerful. You can almost feel the tension in the air, the exhaustion in the Marines' faces, or the urgency of the moment. In these pieces, the artist’s voice—his experience, his perspective—shines through, elevating the work from a mere depiction to something far more profound.
I can say with certainty that this layer of narrative is what separates a good piece of art from a great one. The strongest works—the ones that linger in your mind long after you’ve seen them—are those that have a story to tell. Not just the story of what is visually present, but the story of what was experienced, what was felt, and what was witnessed. These elements of storytelling don’t require words—they live within the strokes of the brush, the lines of the pencil, the composition of the piece.
In the context of Marine Corps Combat Art, we need to ask ourselves: How did the artist (or perhaps more importantly, the subject(s)) feel in that moment? How did the Marines experience the moment, not just in terms of what they saw, but what they felt—physically, emotionally, and psychologically? These are the questions that elevate the work from a mere depiction to an experience that allows viewers to connect, to feel, and to understand.
So next time you look at a piece of art—be it a military scene, a portrait, or a still life—don’t just appreciate it for its technical skill. Ask yourself what story it’s telling. What emotion is it evoking? And more importantly, does it make you feel like you’re part of the story, even for just a moment?