Art and Living Memory
A building can stand for a century, a river can carve a canyon over millennia, but a story exists only as long as it is told. It lives in the breath of the teller and the ear of the listener. When that chain is broken, it vanishes, leaving behind not even a ghost. In our last discussion, we looked at the stories held in the physical world around us—the old boats and faded murals. But the most vital, most fragile histories of our communities are not written on walls; they are held in the minds and hearts of our elders.
As an artist, you have the unique capacity to become a vessel for these stories. This isn’t about just finding inspiration; it’s about accepting a profound responsibility. You are being invited to become a keeper of the flame, to ensure that the memories that define your community don’t flicker and die out. This work asks for more than a keen eye; it demands an open heart and a quiet, patient presence.
The Privilege of Listening to Elder Stories
Stepping into the role of a community historian begins with one simple, radical act: listening. Not the way we listen in casual conversation, waiting for our turn to speak, but a deep, intentional listening that is a form of witness. When an elder shares a story with you, they are offering you a piece of their life, a fragment of a world that may no longer exist. It’s a gift of immense trust. Your first job is not to think about the art you will make, but to simply receive that gift with respect.
I remember sitting for hours with an elder who described, in meticulous detail, the precise way her grandmother used to smoke fish. She spoke of the type of wood, the smell in the air, the feel of the knife in her hands. There was no grand plot, no dramatic twist. But in her telling, an entire way of life was illuminated. My role in that moment was not to be an artist seeking a subject, but a younger person learning from a master. The art came later, but it was born from that foundation of pure, unhurried attention.
Gathering Oral Histories with Respect
How do you begin this delicate work? It’s simpler than you might think, and it has nothing to do with fancy recording equipment. It’s about human connection. Start by building a relationship, not by conducting an interview. Bring a gift of tea or bannock. Spend time talking about the weather, your families, the day-to-day things. Let them get to know you before you ask them to share their memories.
When the time feels right, ask for permission clearly. You might say, “I’m an artist, and I believe the stories of our community are so important. I would be honored if you would be willing to share some of your memories with me.” Be honest about what you hope to do with what you learn. Will it become a painting? A poem? A series of photographs? Transparency builds trust. Ask open-ended questions like, “What was this town like when you were a child?” or “Can you tell me about the first time you…” Then, be silent. Let them think. The most powerful stories often emerge from the quiet spaces you leave for them.
Transforming Memories into Meaningful Art
Once you have been trusted with these stories, the creative process becomes an act of stewardship. You are not just documenting facts; you are translating the feeling, the wisdom, and the spirit of the memory into a new form. This is where your unique artistic voice comes in. A photographer might create a series of portraits of elders, their hands or faces telling a story of a life lived, paired with a single, powerful quote from their conversation. A textile artist might weave the colors and patterns of a remembered landscape described in a story. A musician could create a soundscape that blends the elder’s recorded voice with the sounds of the community they described.
The crucial thing is that the final artwork should always honor its source. It should feel like an extension of the gift you were given, not something you’ve simply taken for yourself. Acknowledge the storyteller. Share the work with them and their family first, if possible. Your art becomes a new link in the chain, a way for that story to be heard and felt by a new generation, ensuring it continues to breathe.
This work won’t hang in a big city gallery, and it might not win you any prestigious awards. Its value is far greater. By becoming a keeper of your community’s stories, you are weaving yourself into the very fabric of the place you call home. You are ensuring that when the last teller falls silent, the story does not vanish into the air. It finds a new home, in your art, for all of us.
This summer, our arts program is a vibrant hub empowering artists and the arts sector across Winnipeg, Manitoba, and Northwestern Ontario. Our focus is on providing professional development and storytelling opportunities, which includes taking a deep dive into a different story every single Thursday. We’ll explore how these narratives are told, what we can learn from them, and how they can inspire our own creative work. Our program was originally seeded in 2022 with funding from the Canada Council for the Arts Digital Greenhouse. Now in our third season, this summer’s program is made possible thanks to the support of the Minneapolis College of Art and Design and the Ontario Arts Council, whose funding is helping to support this season’s valuable mentorship and internship program.
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