I discovered that curating a show like WORDSTOCK requires a kind of pragmatic theatricality. Communication is all about conveying information but the way you tell it must be dramatic. People will forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel. 26 is packed with extraordinary people who have broad terms of reference. Once the word was out, offers to facilitate events poured in and the WORDSTOCK programme began to firm up: A writing workshop exploring the crossover between words and music; A discussion around linguistic analysis, metaphor and brands; Two best selling authors on the dynamics of agents, editors and publishing; A group therapy session for timorous Tweeters; The launch of a new 26 project inspired by litter; A case study of 26 Flavours – a Cornish festival of food and language; Advice on how to keep the inspiration bubbling faced with looming deadlines; A smorgasbord of activities investigating music festival nomenclature, song lyrics and memories provoked by golden oldies; A performance around verbal seduction and how to make yourself a more attractive proposition to potential partners – business and pleasure.

Come the big day, the halls were decked with weeping willows, mountain ash, ivy clad pergolas and autumn leaves. I have never experienced such drive from a group of people so determined to make something extraordinary happen. I’m increasingly convinced that authentic change is not achieved by grandiose schemes, but by incremental interventions that gather momentum through sticky enthusiasm: Conjure up a loose framework that bristles with opportunities, stand back and watch the sparks.

So here are my 12 Top Tips for designing and running a fruitful festival.

1. CONSTRUCT & DECONSTRUCT. Create an ambience of heightened awareness around a fixed timetable allowing plenty of room for idiosyncrasy.

2. FOCUS & CONTEXTUALISE. Create themed centres of attention with a few signature landmarks, and set the scene with inveigling temptations.

3. INVITE & ENGAGE. Begin with a chaotic icebreaker that inspires participants make their own marks and establish terr

4. FASCINATE & PROVOKE. Provide concurrent choices of speakers and events offering challenging content and thoughtful interaction.

5. STROKE & EVOKE. Provide counterintuitive encounters that inspire people to turn abstract meanderings into tangible experiences.

7. REFLECT & ABSORB. Give participants the time and space to explore themselves and bring back even richer gifts back to the table

8. OUT & ABOUT. Break the day with a blast of fresh air and an ambulatory workshop to trigger pollination and serendipity.

9. IMAGINE & INTUIT. Draw upon rich veins of subliminal memories and amplify them in Technicolor.

10. HARMONISE & BOND: Create magnetic attractions that dissolve inhibitions.

11. LIBERATE & ANIMATE. Peel away years of socialisation and encourage all that visceral stuff to emerge.

12. ASSERT & EXPRESS. Fuse the new empowerments into triumphant expressions of lusty joy.

Tom

It doesn’t help that the writing is so confused: ‘Dole Model: Protect your family’ has no clear connection to the rest of the mockvert. I suppose ‘Hair from India’ is a reference to Cheryl’s alleged use of ‘organic’ hair extensions, and I assume ‘auto tune’ is referring to a piece of paraphernalia from a recording studio rather than something you might find in one of the many garages off the Bethnal Green Road. Fair enough, but the line ‘publicity by Satan’ is a lame dig at Simon Cowell. He deserves better.

Perhaps the worst bit is the failure to develop the overall theme of ‘Real’. The ‘Noreal Parts’ headline might have been the start of something powerful, but the idea is lost along the way. By the sign-off it has become ‘Because you’re worth it. Real’. So what’s the message? What’s the purpose? Is this the most profound thing the artist has to say about atomisation and vacuous celebrity/consumer branding?

The best anti-marketing posters you see around these parts rework the language of advertising in such a skilful way that it accentuates the power of their parody. This artist has produced something with no message, little wit and simply awful typography. What’s the point – we already have plenty of ad agencies who can do that.

Tim

PS The artist behind this work, Dr D, has done some other pieces that are more interesting, particularly some political work that uses the Foundry in Old Street as a backdrop: www.drd.nu/

Of course, it’s now traditional for Britons returning from abroad to share hilarious manglings and misuses of English discovered en route. You know the sort of thing – a Chinese food menu with a dish called Fuk Yoo. The Daily Torygraph has an enjoyable if rather smug section of this type called Sign Language.

Caption, from the National Archaeological Museum, Athens

I did spot a few oddities (one restaurant promised to serve ‘haunted food’) but some other aspects of writing in Greece made a stronger impression. In the National Archaeological Museum, for example, I was struck by the lucidity and cultural confidence of the captions. The words provide a sophisticated interpretation of the history on show, with politics, economics and religion very much to the fore. I can’t help but think many British museums would attempt to make these insights more ‘accessible’ via some dreadful editorial device, like a character who travels through time and interprets the complex stuff of history into ‘everyday language’. Sentences such as ‘Mystery cults with a soteriological content flourished, while the Stoic philosophy and Neoplatonism were also widespread’ would probably be culled for fear of seeming highbrow and alienating visitors. This need to ensure that the audience ‘gets’ everything first time is corrosive and limiting. There’s nothing wrong with captions and catalogues that stretch our understanding, that is what the process of learning involves, after all. I had to look up ‘soteriological’ in a dictionary, and that took me down some interesting and unexpected avenues.

The design of the museum reflects this no-nonsense pitch. It’s big on substance and refreshingly free of themed trails, interactive visitor experiences, didactic signage, promotional posters, health and safety notices, sponsorship messages and feedback forms. I saw no children holding leaflets with headlines such as ‘How many sculptures of animals beginning with the letter B can you find in Room 5?’ I saw plenty of children discussing the works with adults.

My only gripe is with the museum’s caff, which is set in a lovely courtyard but sells dry cheese puffs and fizzy drinks at prices that would make an Onassis wince. In contrast, the beautiful new Acropolis Museum boasts a restaurant serving scrumptious food at modest prices. And there are one or two relics in the building that are worth a look too.

Menu prose, from Chatzis in Athens

Between museum cafés it was necessary to go into a non-museum café to eat more pastries. The natural choice was Chatzis, on Syntagma Square. Here, one of the most delicious delicacies was the prose used to describe their recipes. ‘The artistry, the flavors and the smells of another, sweeter era unite with our reality and awaken our senses. Cinnamon smell, thick syrup, velvet creams and chubby dough are sweetly mixed and take you on a magnificent and charming time journey. The pure ingredients, always carefully chosen, the recipes, rooted in the old homes of Constantinople…’ OK, so some of the vocabulary might benefit from a lighter touch from the translator (‘smells’?) but the prose oozes heritage, personality, atmosphere and, most of all, flavour. I love the idea that their pastries evoke another era – a time when Greece emanated from Costantinopoli. Chatzis is selling baklava soaked in nostalgia for a lost city, a lost time, a lost centre, and some might even say a lost greatness. Reworked in contemporary Anglo-Saxon copyspeak, the translation would probably read ‘Chatzis – we’re passionate about delivering the authentic taste experience of ancient Greece.’ Give me the old homes of Constantinople and a plate of chubby dough, every time.

Tim