Given how commercialized Hindu/Indian imagery graces our organic cotton yoga wear, swimsuits, tattoos and smartphone cases, why bother looking at the real thing if one is not a student of art history, comparative religion or ethnography? Short answer: because the folk paintings presented in "Colorful Stories" have something to teach us about the image-saturated, narrative-driven worlds we immerse ourselves in today.

These folk paintings are created by members of a specific caste of Indian society called "chitrakar," representing traditions dating from the 13th century and earlier, and which tell stories that are far older. At the same time, they are used to address modern issues such as HIV, human trafficking and the global war on terror. Produced all over India, these painted and multimedia works on paper, fabric, palm leaf and wood are executed with naturally derived and commercial paints, using a range of implements including fingertips, brushes and matchsticks.

The miniature, portable temples known as "kavad," backdrop scrolls called "pat," and fantastically decorative "madhubani" and "pattachitra" paintings are united by the direct role they play in community life, supporting the timeless human art of storytelling through illustration. These supplemental images can be unfolded in three dimensions, unrolled in two, or presented as a landscape of assembled moments that can’t be taken in all at once.

None of them is meant to be experienced in isolation. These are paintings from the streets, either shown there or derived from styles that were developed for walls and floors. The kavad temples are publicly unfolded in stages that match the progress of heroic narratives recounted by itinerant priests, while collapsible multilayered pattachitra have scenes that are interactively revealed like advent calendars. Fortunately, various monitors in the gallery loop short documentaries that show the artwork in this broader social context, giving visitors a better idea of how these paintings are part of a performance.

Two standouts include a storyteller recounting Osama bin Laden’s escape from Bora Bora via rap, accompanied by his incredible image of half-plane/half-men dive-bombing a traditionally dressed crowd, set against a chevron-patterned background that recalls the quasi-Islamic facade of the World Trade Center’s ground floor. Two bombers have visible demon tongues as depicted in traditional Hindu paintings; a third bears bin Laden’s trademark beard and white cap.

A second minidocumentary includes the story of a woman named Sita Devi who achieved international recognition for her elaborately detailed "madhubani" paintings. It features a story painting about her trip to the United States, which included a visit to the World Trade Center and Arlington National Cemetery. A painting of the multi-armed goddess Durga is on display, giving viewers a direct impression of the painting that Devi gave to Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi in the 1960s.

This weaving of global issues reminds the viewer that these are not artifacts from a museum’s nonwhite, non-Christian and nonrepresentational section. These are, in effect, technologies that are undergoing continuous development and adaptation that actually have parallels in modern communications media.

A pattachitra painting is subject to the division of labor (materials prep, outlines, coloring, and finishing) comparable to that found in the production of modern comic books, which are probably the strongest analogy to Indian story painting in general. This is not just a formal comparison — they share the category of "sequential art" and are both a medium that is of, by and for the people.

Further, one can consider the traditional wandering storyteller who moves between communities as an inversion of our contemporary relationship to stories: today, heroes, villains and "gods" come to us delivered to our homes and into the palms of our hands. From talking head pundits and satellite preachers on television, to smartphone apps such as Instagram and Pinterest, we are engaged with infinite scrolls (like pat) and endless grids (like phad) of images.

These diverse means of accessing stories are unified in the ways that they are tailored to reflect audiences’ tastes, social status and cultural standards. "Colorful Stories" strips away layers of technical and cultural obfuscation to reveal something fundamental: The human need to create order (and an implied narrative) is both pressing and universal.