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“The
artist formally known as scientist”… (to coin a phrase from A)
Two weeks at the Banff Centre learning the art of
science communications
By Paula
Piilonen, SC 2006 Alumni
The alarm
goes off at 7am. I scramble out of bed, take a quick look at
Mount Rundle out my balcony window – another beautiful, sunny
day in Banff. The mountains are striking in the morning light,
the fresh air invigorating, but getting out to play among them
is out of the question for the next days – we are deep into week
two of the inaugural Science Communications course at the Banff
Centre, and there is an incredible amount of work still to be
done.
I head to the
shower, my head full of thoughts of the video editing I must do
that day, something I have never done in my life but am looking
forward to learning. Rushing over to the Kiln for the regular
morning dose of caffeine (one of many during the day!), I head
off across campus towards our Burrow - the Rabid Hedgehogs have
an 8am group meeting to flush out today’s work schedule for our
project, Science Flair.
17
participants and 8 faculty members, headed up by the dynamic duo
of Jay Ingram and Mary Ann Moser, have gathered in this small
town of high peaks, turquoise rivers, and boiling hot springs.
A group of leaders, drawn together by a common passion for
science and a belief that the current methods for communicating
science within the public sphere need to be reshaped, revised,
and brought into the 21st century. A diverse,
international group, we are scientists, policy analysts, public
relations experts, a museum consultant, artists, science
writers, journalists, family clinicians, a TV producer, and our
own Daily Planet host. As participants, we came here unsure as
to our place in the group, silently wondering if being accepted
to the program had been an error on the part of the faculty,
only to have our apprehensions quickly dissolve as we realize
that we all share the same insecure thoughts. As diverse as we
are, these two weeks we work together, learn from each other,
share ideas and dreams, discuss, debate, laugh for hours at a
time, exposing more and more of our inner selves. Maybe it’s
the ever-present majestic limestone peaks, the clean mountain
air, or a combination of lack of sleep and cheap wine, but
collectively we’ve learned that understanding happens in the
pauses, that leaving the academic world behind does not mean
that you are a failure as a scientist, that sometimes the best
thing one can do is give up control and go with the flow, and
that lifelong friendships can begin with a simple admission of
trust, a willingness to share, to listen, and to let down your
barriers.
This course
is intense – a two week “master class” in science
communications, not a program for the faint of heart. Mornings
are filled with pedagogical lectures by faculty, followed by
open discussion by the group. Subjects include effective
communication skills, strategies for different audiences, how to
get the science right, traditional versus new media,
communicating conflict and controversy, and best and worst
practices in science communication. Afternoons, we get down to
work with quick-hit writing and thought assignments (dragonflies
and NSAIDs come to mind), faculty consultations about our group
projects, shooting streeters in downtown Banff, video editing
and graphic design with Luke’s phenomenal New Media gang, and a
group effort to develop a manifesto for the art of science
communication. I am increasingly amazed, humbled, and moved by
the talent, emotion, wit, and intelligence of participants and
faculty alike.
Evenings are
a mélange of new experiences designed to get us thinking, and
acting, outside the box, outside of our own comfort zone:
sculpting with clay, theatre improv, a movie night with
intelligent design and climate change as the main topics to
provoke discussion, and a science café which culminates in a
night of pool sharking, Motown duets sung by two of our fearless
leaders, and frantic displays of ‘dancing’ to release the
pent-up energy from the first intense week. Most evenings end
over a drink at the campus pub or at our own Writer’s Lounge.
This is an opportunity to get to know each other better, to
share thoughts about the day’s activities, discuss or
commiserate about project progress, and to connect with each
other on a more intimate level.
After a rocky
beginning and elaborate displays of tail feathers, the group has
begun to open up to each other; the artist inside the scientist
has started to blossom. After all, we have been labeled
“artists” according to our meal cards; we had only to recognize
our potentials. Ah tulips!! These are my people, kindred souls
who recognize that there is a need for scientists who are
passionate about communicating science, scientists willing to
take that leap, to leave the bench and share their knowledge and
passion with the public.
Saturday
brings our final presentations of the projects in front of the
entire group, along with program sponsors - we are the baseline
for future programs. All of us are full of nervous energy,
excited at the prospect of showing off our final products which
have consumed our lives for the last five days. Alex, Caitlin,
Michael and I have poured all of our energy into making this
project a success. Science Flair, our campaign to increase
participation of youth in project-based science, is a hit.
Nervous energy dissipates much more quickly than it takes to
build up! We celebrate, relaxing, until the next group’s
presentation. The resulting adrenaline crash is unwelcome,
unexpected, and sends the four of us into a slightly depressive
state. But it brings us closer together still, an experience
that is almost more intimate than the original high. We’ve
succeeded, we’re proud of ourselves, our efforts, and we’ve
remained friends through the process.
We have all
been changed by this experience in some way. For me, it’s been
both professionally and personally, in ways that I cannot easily
put down on paper. As one of my closest new friends said on our
last morning as a formal group, being away from your job,
family, and responsibilities for two weeks is a big sacrifice.
He’s correct, it has been. It’s been an intense two weeks,
emotionally, physically and mentally draining. Although I can
only speak for myself, I think that most of my fellow
communicators would agree - the sacrifice has been worth it.
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