“Nothing is boring”
One fantastic thing about wading into an industry about which you know nothing is the lack of baggage about how things “have always been done in our industry.” Among my observations about festivals and some of their time-honoured practices:
They tend to be built around a single type of content, e.g., books, chamber music, oysters. But the truth is, how many consecutive sessions of history or oenophilia do you really want to sit through in a single day unless you’re an industry professional networking at the same time? An art fair is a good and well-justified example of the latter. The EA Festival eschews any received formula. Instead, I try to book what’s timely, compelling and culturally relevant and worry about classifying it later.
Many festivals are conducted powerpoint style -- possibly inspired by the format of the original TED stage. But, guess what, very few beyond those actually invited to TED can hold the attention of an audience for 45 minutes armed only with a slide deck. Outside of a board room, powerpoints are the kiss of death. That’s why they’re strictly verboten at the EA Festival.
Literary and book festivals are launch pads for authors touting their newest publications. I have no issue with book festivals functioning as sales and marketing platforms for the publishing industry. But that fact alone does not guarantee that a festival’s speakers are riveting. One of the last festivals I attended before COVID-19 was a well-known history festival and, despite a speaking roster studded with luminaries, I passed two full days there in a state of semi-narcolepsy. A few takeaways from that experience:
All too often intellectual brilliance doesn’t actually translate into real-life charisma. That’s why I try to screen-test every EA speaker beforehand, either by watching their video interviews or speaking to them directly on Zoom. Panels are my favourite way to ensure that the air doesn’t get sucked out of the room. Just as important, they provide an opportunity for debate and disagreement -- the real gold of festival programming.
Moderation (as in event moderation, not abstemiousness) is everything and NOTHING is boring. Rather, people are boring. Conversely, a fascinating person is fascinating whether they’re talking about their book -- or explaining how they brush their teeth. Authors are expected to talk about their books and musicians are supposed to play their instruments with virtuosity then exit stage left. But it’s so much more interesting to go beyond their advertised personas. John Lloyd, the TV producer, and Mike Figgis, the director, are two great examples of individuals who smash silos every day. There’s no Master Class module for what these two bring to the stage -- unless it’s “How to Lead a More Passionate and Engaged Life.” Fascination, charisma and humanity deserve more than a prim and prosaic series of questions. Why put a wall around a conversation that wants to break free? That’s why meek and flaccid moderation is a crime at festivals.
Last but not least, I’m planning to share this entire adventure with you, its reversals, challenges and sheer craziness. The meta-narrative itself, I hope, will be a fascinating overlay to an undertaking that’s ordinarily conducted behind closed doors. Not only do I believe that this will keen your appetite for the festival but demonstrate my commitment to making the inaugural event an unforgettable experience.
