What Hay Festival reminded me about science, art and public connection

I recently had the pleasure of attending Hay Festival for a conversation that brought together several of the things I care about most: books, science, public dialogue and the transformative power of the arts.  

Hay-on-Wye is a remarkable setting for a science conversation. At first glance, a literary festival might seem an unusual place to discuss psychobiology, epidemiology, biomarkers or health policy. But that is precisely what made the event so powerful. Surrounded by readers, writers, artists, thinkers and curious members of the public, science felt not separate from culture, but deeply embedded within it. 

I was there on behalf of Springer Nature for the John Maddox Conversation, a set piece lecture sponsored by Nature and dedicated to sharing scientific ideas with passion and clarity.  

John Maddox, Editor-in-Chief of Nature for 22 years, believed strongly in the importance of scientific thought in public life. His years at Nature spanned extraordinary advances, from the moon landings and modern computing to IVF and the growing recognition of climate change. He understood that science changes the world not only through discovery, but through explanation, challenge and public engagement. 

I spoke with Professor Daisy Fancourt for this year’s Conversation, a leading scientist who epitomises the spirit of the John Maddox Conversation. She is Professor of Psychobiology & Epidemiology and Head of the Social Biobehavioural Research Group at UCL and one of the most highly cited scientists in the world. Together we discussed her bestselling book The Art Cure: The Science of How the Arts Transform Our Health. 

Her work explores the evidence that art and cultural participation can influence health and wellbeing in measurable ways. We spoke about music, reading, performance, visual art and creative practice; about stress, loneliness, resilience, pain, ageing and cognitive reserve; and about the challenge of communicating complex science without simplifying it beyond recognition. 

What stayed with me most was the way the conversation moved between evidence and experience. Daisy’s book is powerful because it does not ask readers to choose between data and feeling. It recognises that art can produce deeply human, goosebump-inducing moments, while also showing that those experiences can be studied rigorously through neuroscience, physiology, psychology and behavioural science. 

One key takeaway for me was that good science communication starts with respect: respect for the evidence, and respect for the audience. It is not about making science smaller. It is about making it more reachable. The best communicators invite people in through stories, examples and language that connect with everyday life, while still preserving nuance and uncertainty. 

A second takeaway was the importance of crossing disciplinary boundaries. The relationship between art and health cannot be understood through a single lens. It involves biological mechanisms, psychological responses, social connection and behaviour. It requires quantitative and qualitative methods, as well as openness between disciplinary communities that do not always share the same language, conferences or journals. At a time when many of our biggest challenges are complex, from mental health to ageing to climate change, that kind of connection is not optional, it is essential. And long-form formats, the book, are a key part of creating and delivering that connected content.  

The third takeaway was about access. If arts and culture can support health, wellbeing and belonging, then they cannot be treated as luxuries. Questions about who gets to participate, who feels welcome, who can afford access and how arts are valued in education and public policy become health questions too. The false divide between “arts people” and “science people” begins early, and it limits all of us.  

Events like this matter. A literary festival creates a different kind of public space for science. People arrive ready to listen, question, connect and be surprised. They may not come as specialists, but they come with curiosity. In that room, the discussion was not only about the science of art; it was itself an example of science becoming part of culture. 

For publishers, researchers and communicators, the lesson is clear. We need to meet the wider public where meaningful conversations are already happening. Science communication is not only about broadcasting findings. It is about building trust, making knowledge usable, and showing why research belongs in public life. 

I left Hay reminded that art and science are not opposing forces. Both are ways of paying attention to the world. Both can change how we understand ourselves and one another. And when they meet in public, they can do something even more powerful: they can help people feel that knowledge is not distant but shared.