About a thousand or so bright young things are gathered in the lofty and darkened hall of the Architect’s School. The occasion is the tenth Copenhagen ‘Pecha-Kucha’ night – and it’s my first time. Tonight, all the speakers are students, mostly artists or ‘creative types’ of one sort or another. Each speaker has exactly six minutes and forty seconds to present twenty ‘elements’ (usually slides, projected onto three screens placed in various spots around the room). As Forrest Gump would say, “you never know what you’re gonna get”, and like a box of chocolates, everything is mouthful-sized. If you don’t like the Caramel Cup, there’s a Pineapple Heart coming up in just a few minutes.
Pecha-kucha is a global phenomenon originating in Japan. I first read about it in the book Presentation Zen – worth a read if you want to brush up your lectures and presentations. The name means ‘chit-chat’ (or ’snik-snak’ in the Danish idiom), although it is far more formal than the name might suggest. The appeal of pecha-kucha is the combination of a strict time restriction (20 slides, 20 seconds each) and the potential for surprise – speakers may present literally anything at all – pictures, songs, poems, yogic asanas… whatever. The evening opened with a short accordian piece. This seemed a strange choice, as it deviated from the strict format I was expecting, but things soon settled into the routine of slide shows plus talk. Frankly, none of the eight or nine speakers set my heart on fire on this occasion, rather it seemed like a series of intriguing glimpses into creative processes, without obvious conclusions, and often without clear motivations, although the presentation from two student officers from ’søværnet’ was jolly and charming, standing out amongst all the arty farty stuff. I almost felt ready to join the navy, catch pirates in the Indian Ocean, then roll back to my cabin for a few tots of rum. Considering that I regard all military organisations with suspicion, it was good rhetoric. Another high point was a female DJ showing the various bizarre costumes she and her colleague wear when ‘at work’.
But that’s really not the point. The format promises nothing except formality. The content is inevitably mixed. Just as when hunting mushrooms in the undergrowth, it is the scarceness of ‘really good stuff’ and the wondering about what is coming next which makes it compelling. There’s also the warm fuzzy feeling of knowing that, no matter how dreadful a presentation may be, it will all be over soon. There could be some spiritual dimension to it – ‘this too will pass’.
At the end of the session, we saw a video greeting from two Australian pecha-kucha organisers, congratulating us. The sound was poor, so I couldn’t really hear what they were saying, but we did see photographs of pecha-kucha nights in Istanbul, Dubai, Glasgow and various other places. It felt like being part of something big – simultaneously humbling and thrilling. We all need to feel part of something, and this is something that makes relatively few demands. What’s not to like?
In truth, the session at the Architect’s School last week was not my first experience of pecha-kucha: On our own first semester, we tend to have a time problem when our students have to present their work because there are simply so many of them. On those occasions, it takes some discipline to stay focused right through to the last presentation, and give feedback, especially as the hour hand creeps towards three and the Friday bar has already started booming. Last November we decided to ask our international students to present their Flash animations in the pecha-kucha form so we could finish in a reasonable time. We had already required that the animations be exactly 20 seconds long, which meant that each group had to think of 19 other things to say or share about their work.
Even given that ‘E08INT’ (now in second semester) are an unusually talented bunch, the students took to the format with enthusiasm. Several of them even attended Copenhagen Pecha-Kucha night #9, by way of preparation. The usual problems with hesitation or shyness seemed to disappear. I don’t doubt that many of the students were shy – glossophobia (anxiety about speaking in public) is the most common phobia of all – but it seemed as though the strict format, which demands submission to the clock, gave them the urgency they needed to deliver an engaging ’show’. There is simply no time for freezing, umming or ahing, and, like the audience, the presenting students know it will very soon be over. In some cases there were a few technical hitches – powerpoint misbehaving, or crackly audio cables, but everyone who commented said they were pleased with the pecha-kucha form. Our plan is to use pecha-kucha again for the new first semester international students (’F09INT’), once again we will use it when they show off their Flash animations, and I expect we could find other occasions where pecha-kucha could be employed in the classroom – even (or perhaps especially) by members of staff.
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