Writer as Artist: A Unique and Surreal Experience

I’m always looking for different ways to get my work in front of readers.

I heard about Mennofolk a few months ago. An exhibition for Mennonite artists, they described themselves as, “a visual overload of art in various media and a traditional Mennonite Faspa.”Mennofolk2

After doing some research, I decided to submit my short story, Bread for Five, a perfect match for their theme, Interaction/Isolation.mennofolk6

First, just a little about my Mennonitism. There are cultural Mennonites and denominational Mennonites. I did not grow up Menno nor come from a Menno family. I married a cultural Mennonite and became a denominational Mennonite, if that makes any sense. 

With the piece accepted and set to be showcased in their readers nook, my husband and I headed to the Exchange Community Church in Winnipeg’s Exchange District. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would anyone sit down and read at an art exhibition? Did writing have a place among visual artists and musicians?Mennofolk5

The gallery was already buzzing when we walked in the door. People, mainly twenty-somethings, milled around the room, looking at the artwork and snacking on the faspa provided–cold farmer sausage, cheese, pickles, zwieback with jam and butter. (Faspa is a light evening meal, typically served Sundays).Mennofolk3

Beside the stage, I spied the reading nook–a couple cozy chairs, an end table and a lamp and, to my surprise, readers reading. Two other pieces occupied the table alongside my short story–one poetry and one a reflective piece. 

With writing, you send things out for publication and you’re happy if they get accepted. You have the satisfaction of knowing that someone, somewhere is reading your work, but you rarely get put faces to those readers. You rarely get to be a fly on the wall and watch.Mennofolk1

I ambled around the gallery, taking in the other artwork and watching the reader nook from the corner of my eye. People would sit down and read, then get up and others would come to take their place. All through the evening one person after another would sit and read my story. Indeed, people do read at art exhibitions. 

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It was gratifying to actually get to see people reading my story and sort of surreal too. I realized how abstract the idea is–being writer. We can’t hang our work on a wall for onlookers to quickly peruse. We can’t play a song listeners can passively take in during conversation. We demand your attention–all of it for an extended period of time. Readers take a piece of writing and usually go off on their own to read. What a treat to have the opportunity to share those often private moments of story with real life readers.

 

 

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