The art of communication

 In this digital age, instantaneous communication with the other side of the world comes at the touch of a button – sorry, button? I meant touch-screen plasma-pad. With one tickle of a pinkie, I can transmit multiple forms of information to a host of platforms, devices and media. We are living in the most communication-friendly age ever.

And yet, recently I have found the problem of ‘communication’ cropping up more and more frequently within the small-town arts circles in which I swim: How do we communicate? Who are we communicating to? Why aren’t we communicating better?

Even internally. With the fist of cuts and redundancies squeezing our sector ever tighter, you may think it an odd time for an arts organisation to be shelling out on departmental ‘Away Days’ where we spend all day in a building in London eating posh pastries and sandwiches and being told what type of learner we are by an over-paid facilitator. I did. What I found more puzzling was the particular focus of this away day. Hyperbolically entitled ‘The Art of Communication’, it suggested that we don’t communicate properly with the people we sit next to or opposite for eight hours a day. And to do so we have to mimic their posture or intonation (I tried this once and just looked like I was taking the piss. Not to be advised when meeting with the Boss).

About a week later I was round another table having a similar conversation. In my small green-belt town, we have an abundance of community arts groups – choirs, painters, potters, writers, knitters, photographers – but there seems to be a general agreement that there isn’t enough dialogue occurring between these groups. We were scratching our heads wondering how with all this technology at our fingertips something as natural as communication can seemingly become such a stumbling block.

The question of how galleries and museums can best utilise the digital world to communicate is a prevalent one, and one that I think we’re all still exploring. But there seems to me some incongruence between art and digital communication. Perhaps it comes down to the idea that art, The Arts, are the stuff of physical sensation and stimulation – whether it’s a painting that makes your jaw drop or a night of live music that leaves your heart drumming – whereas all this communication that undeniably is there, is nevertheless confined to the intangible digital ether – removed from physical impact and practically incomprehensible to un-techies like me.

So maybe we should take a day out once in a while to eat pastries and play silly games. My solution? Fewer Tweets, more tea. And draw me a picture while you’re at it. I’m a visual learner after all. Apparently.