Michael Scott's Grandma's Cake is part of his Farny's Fables exhibition currently on display at the Taft Museum of Art.

Michael Scott is a whiz of a painter. Deft and assured, he always lets us know exactly what he's painting -- but he usually has to tell us why. That's because he sees painting as storytelling, and some of his stories in Farny's Fables need explaining.

Not to worry, it's a good story. It has a beginning, a middle and an end, and like all good stories it tells us something about the world and about ourselves.

Americans, for better and worse, he says, are not unlike the Dutch of the 17th century, whose paintings we admire in museums including the very one in which this exhibition appears, the Taft Museum of Art. We might now be in the 21st century, but our character was being formed in the 19th century, when one of his chief protagonists, Henry Farny, European-born Cincinnati painter of American Indians in the West, was industriously furthering his career.

Scott received his Master of Fine Arts degree from the University of Cincinnati and had a studio here until he moved to Santa Fe, N.M, several years ago. He appropriates images as handily as a pickpocket appropriates purses. But, of course, in his case the originals remain in place. You can go directly from Farny's Fables to the Taft's permanent collection to see Rembrandt's "Man Rising from His Chair" and Farny's "The Song of the Talking Wire," both of which figure into Scott's exhibition.

Here's a quick take on the story, but be aware this is the surface narrative and hiding just underneath are allegorical accompaniments. Will Grandma's cake win the Santa Fe County Fair Grand Prize as it always does or will that upstart Farny's paintings elbow her out?

Dutch cowboys (hang on to your hat, we're moving fast here) have been channeled by Farny, who will be painting pictures for the market even as 17th century Dutch artists did. Vincent van Gogh -- who never, ever painted for the market but whose paintings eventually became market wonders -- is channeled by Grandma. Recipes are stolen, roosters are important as commentators in furthering the plot line and nefarious happenings occur, all this depicted by Scott in sometimes smashing paintings.

He wants us to consider what is most important: The value of art in the marketplace or in the way it can expand our lives? He thinks making things (cakes, paintings, whatever) can lead to happiness, discovery and even joy. It might be telling that comfort doesn't appear to be an aim. Value ($$$) vs. worth (intrinsic) is an old opposition but seldom have these antagonists been ranged against each other with so diverse a set of characters.

How does an art museum handle the complications of art as literature? With some difficulty, although the Taft has made the enjoyment of the exhibition possible on whatever level you choose. The gallery is designed to encourage a chronological trip through the show and wall labels give the gist of the story. For those paintings derived from other paintings, the label for the Scott work also reproduces its source. A third of the way through the exhibition, catalogues are provided, presenting the tale in full, and there's also a bench to sit on while perusing.

The climax to Scott's story will not be revealed here, except to say it is a satisfyingly immediate solution. (Whew!) But the conflict, as might be expected, is for the long-term unresolved. We find this out in the final gallery, where there is also the interesting fun of seeing a number of Scott's portrait sketches for these works, plus a case exhibiting some of his studio props. If you wondered about the authenticity of a bubble gum cigar box, cast doubt aside. Here is the actual object.

Obviously, for all the funny cards up his sleeve, Scott has serious thoughts to dispense. He's correct in his assessment that we need to think about the countering claims of worth and value. But what about Scott's own skills?

They are considerable. These are admirable canvases, smoothly painted, always existing as paintings and not to be mistaken as actual life. People's faces have flat planes that gently abstract physiognomy. Paintings are art, something aside from life but a means by which we understand our existence. That's what I understand him to be saying.

Although Scott skates right up to trompe l'oeil (fool the eye), he stops at the brink almost every time. "The Missing Recipe," showing a partially erased blackboard behind a suspended horseshoe, nearly took me in, though. The picture is cleverly lighted, so that the line of actual shadow from the gallery spot mimics that of the horseshoe's painted shadow, as though each comes from the same source. Very compelling, and I'm sure Scott likes that, because he knows you will find the artifice before you've finished looking.

Scott thinks Farny was very good and only wishes he had applied his talents to subjects that stretched his gifts more. To see if you agree with Scott, take a look at the Taft's Keyhole Gallery, where A Western View: Five Paintings by Henry Farny has just opened and will run through Dec. 10. These works, nicely representative of the artist's oeuvre, are on loan from private collections.

In Farny's Fables, Scott has perhaps over-complicated his tale, as many visitors will lose track of just what's going on. The pleasure of looking at the works, however, is something worthwhile in its own right. And is it yet another facet of the difference between value and worth? Grade: B+