I Won’t Tell You How To Say Pecha Kuc…

If you’re reading this, you already get it. You know there’s value to information communicated in ways that are not “social networking.”  You’re aware that Facebook and Twitter are not always the perfect mediums for communication. So, you’re five steps ahead when it comes to me explaining to you what Pecha Kucha is. You know that the media at least shapes the message.

You might as well just show up Friday night at the Vogue. Â
                                                                           Â
But in case you’re not already convinced here’s more about PK, a 400-word manifesto of sorts. First the format. Twenty slides, twenty seconds each.  A total of six minutes and forty seconds. This sounds easy but it is only so in the same way haiku is easy in elementary school. Yes, you can put together the right number of syllables. But conveying deep truth that appeals to lots of people with only a few words is an artform, what we might call in modern days–entertainment. It is harder to say more with less. And when the audience has the freedom to ignore you, which they do at a PK night, you have to compete. Hard. Think Powerpoint meets Fight Club.

A history. Pecha Kucha, itself a global movement started by an architecture firm in Japan, came to Indy a couple of years ago as a collaboration between myself and KA+A. We liked the format. We liked the built-in promotional structure. So we dove in. And it worked. More and more people showed up.  Ideas spawned and spread.  And while we were always unsure whether each event would actually come together, it always did. Right now Michael Kaufmann, the newest member of the Indiana Humanities Council, Craig McCormick of Method Architecture, Jim Walker of Big Car, and I pull this off. Together. Somehow. It teeters between success and failure each time.

And therein lies a bit of the philosophy of Pecha Kucha, or at least PK Indy. PK is a labor of love. The presenters do not get paid. The organizers do not get paid. We do it because we believe that ideas are a universal language, the esperanto of thinking. We believe that great, brilliant ideas from all disciplines and interests and walks of life can be distilled and then shared in ways that are applicable to everyone. We can all learn something from each other. We believe in the intrinsic value of the idea itself, even and especially when someone has extracted the idea from its context, jargon, scholarship, profession, or discipline. We believe that Indianapolis can be better if we just share with each other what we’re thinking. Finally, we believe that this occurs most efficiently in-person, when there is not the firewall of an LCD screen or status update or corporation subtly using our words to sell us products. PK is the great escape from the ghetto of approval that online social networking so carefully constructs. It is wild and unmanaged.

But ok. Enough with the preachiness. It’s sounding too serious.

Because beer is a huge part of PK too. A lot of it. The bar keeps things on an even keel (or doesn’t). Beer is the black swan of the event, the unknown variable, the loose cannon. And loosen it does, but this can be good or bad depending on the quality of the presenter and their idea. The result is that the worst presentations are ignored and sometimes openly lauded. Usually people are polite, this being the Midwest and all. And then sometimes there is a presentation that is so sharp, so striking, so phenomenal that it knocks us all to the floor faster than the beer does. You can tell when this happens. The loud chatter becomes a whisper and then quickly nothing at all. No one drinks, which is weird. People taking a piss hurry back and poke their heads into the room like little kids. The bartender even pays attention.  And that’s when the magic happens. We learn. From each other. In real life.

And that is PK Indy. We hope to see you there Friday night.

(The least important part of Pecha Kucha is knowing how to pronounce it. Say it however the hell you like. It’s a Japanese phrase but we’re in the Midwest so have at it and stop worrying if you sound cool. You do.)

This post was written by John Beeler. John is a stay-at-home dad by day and creative technologist at Asthmatic Kitty Records by night.