Here and elsewhere, we often wring our hands about the quality of science communication to the non-scientific public. The shortcomings of journalists and educators are picked over by the science blogosphere and Twitterome with a frequency that makes even cute kittens glance over their shoulders. Viz. the flurry of activity around the Ida fossil and the Telegraph rape nonsense, to name just two examples.

But there’s another arena of science communication that I think we do very well in this country, and certainly in London: promoting the scientific event. Venues such as the Dana Centre, Royal Institution, Royal Society, Wellcome Collection and many more put on regular events where scientific experts discuss their fields with the public at large (and it normally is large, as it’s rare to find an event at one of these places that isn’t a sell-out). Nearly always, such events are advertised using compelling language that avoids jargon and gives the punter a clear idea of what they’re likely to see.

I wish I could say the same about the art world.

Since I went freelance, I’ve made more of an effort to immerse myself in some of the more artistic attractions that London has to offer. The large touristy galleries do a smashing job of explaining their collections in terms a novice like me could understand. But as soon as you try something at a smaller gallery, the language used to sell the show tends toward vague and offputting artspeak. To unfairly pick a recent example, here are some extracts from the PR for the Treehouse Gallery – coming to Regent’s Park from Monday.

The site…will form an array of tree-top structures that will act as a catalyst to ignite the collective imagination, encouraging adults and children alike to explore a variety of creative responses to nature.

That’s one of the better sentences. I can just about understand it if I concentrate, although I’m a little fuzzy about how one explores a creative response. Should I bring my GPS? And the claim that it’s a ‘tree-top structure’ is immediately contradicted by a ropey image showing the gallery as a tree-bottom structure. But never mind, let’s read on.

Both the aesthetics that inform The TreeHouse Gallerys [sic] construction and the community it gives voice to will grow from the surroundings of the parkland and the citys [sic] material and social fabric.

I guess it’s arty to leave out apostrophes, but what excuse for a jargon-led sentence that 95% of visitors to Regent’s Park won’t understand. Nobody outside architectural circles talks about aesthetics informing construction.

Over the course of this two-month period the site will be host to a diverse programme of stimulating exhibitions, performances, workshops, spoken word events and debates, all of which explore the myriad possibilities found through local and creative solutions and forms of reflexive individual engagement with natural cycles.

I’ve read that 10 times now, and the words in that final clause still slip through the grasp of my understanding. How hard can it be to say ’We’re building a new art gallery and performance space in Regent’s Park. It’s up in the trees!’ Surely that’s far more exciting (and even informative) than several paragraphs of waffle.

I am being completely unfair on picking on this one event. I’m sure it’ll be lovely, and I’ll certainly go along myself. But it’s emblematic of a wider problem in the art world. Their communication sucz. Strange as it is to relate, I think that science event planners do a far better job of informing and exciting their potential audiences than their counterparts in the arts world. And don’t get me started on architects.