On Poster Presentation

“I think the first duty of all art, …, is to entertain. That is to say, to hold interest. No matter how worthy the message of something, if it's dull, you're just not communicating. “ (Poul Anderson)

Poster presentation may sometimes bear an “inferior” look compared with oral presentation. Yes, you don’t get that collective attention from dozens or hundreds of people in a quiet room. You can’t play sound or videos to wow your audience, and whoever comes to your poster has the freedom of walking away in any minute. But posters do give you the advance of tailoring your presentation to individual listeners, soliciting candid feedbacks (many people hate asking questions in public), and securing the listeners’ attention since they can’t type on a laptop as they might do during a symposium.

The potentials are there. Though, you may have to work hard to foster them.

1. Familiarity is our enemy.

When people give me a tour of their posters, I almost always ask them to back up. They tend to start like this, “Our goal is to develop a model to explain behavioral data. The first type of model we have tried is …” That’s when I have to step in. “Wait! What kind of behavioral data, in an animal or humans? What part of the brain are you trying to model? What are your input stimuli?” To you, the basic facts are mundane and time-wasting. You try to get to the fun part (your genius experimental design and breakthrough result) before your audience walk away. But without a good understanding of the basics, your audience (God knows what kind of background they may have) will be utterly lost.

This does not mean we should begin a poster with experimental details, though. At the beginning, always give a layman’s description in one or two sentences about the problem you aim to solve. For example, “We are testing a new speech-processing strategy for cochlear-implants to improve spatial hearing.” It’s necessary to draw a big picture first, because the last poster they went to could’ve been a genetic study on Parkinson’s disease. Note that this example differs from “Our goal is to develop a model to explain behavioral data.” The latter opens up too many possibilities that will just bemuse your listeners.

In fact, a guidance sentence should precede the description of each figure. You think the shape of the plot matters, but your audience might be studying the maximum amplitudes. Tell them what to look for at the beginning. Every figure should serve a clear purpose and contribute to the final conclusions. If you can’t come up with a definite purpose, or you find yourself constantly omitting the figure during presentation, it probably shouldn’t be there.

Similar to the layman’s description, try to avoid terminologies and abbreviations that are only meaningful to people in your field, even though you’ve defined them on the poster. Even when you are talking to an expert, one who might have invented that term, being explicit will not be taken as an insult. I frequently find myself missing the presenter’s points when my eyes are searching on the poster for the definition of an abbreviation, such as “CS” (mind you, it doesn’t mean computer science.)

2. More words, fewer words.

There are debates on the appropriate amount of text that should appear on a poster. Some argue there is no need to put more than minimal descriptions on a poster when you can explain everything to your audience. Nobody will read it. But others point out that, if you have to walk away from your poster, sufficient information can guide your visitors to navigate through the study on their own. My experience is, you don’t have to write a lot of words to tell a story once you’ve learned how to write efficiently. When people write in paragraphs, rather than in bulletins, they tend to narrate in the same way they do with papers. Say, first you describe previous studies and bring out a hypothesis. Then you begin the second paragraph with “To test whether or not our hypothesis can explain previous findings …” Think about it, isn’t this obvious? It’s perfectly fine in formal writing, but for a poster, anything that exists solely for a literary purpose and doesn’t add information should be left out. Another trick is to use narrow fonts, such as Arial Narrow. When you write in columns, sometimes there are only a few words spreading each line. Using a narrow font not only squeezes more words in the same space without decreasing the readability, but also eases the reading since your eyes don’t have to keep switching lines like an old-fashioned typewriter.

Even if you decide to err on conciseness, having a somewhat detailed conclusion is always a good idea (and you’d be surprised at the number of posters that don’t actually have a summary or conclusion section). In the absence of a presenter, I usually read the conclusions first. For example, if the conclusion says A is better than B, even though it may not make any sense yet, when I study the figures subsequently, I’ll keep that piece of information in mind, and try to make my own judgment. In short, I know what to look for. Otherwise, it’s hard to figure out what a figure tries to convey without a long written description alongside, unless the audience is very familiar with the topic.

Speaking of conclusions, many presenters forget to verbally summarize the study at the end of the tour. They may have explained the results clearly and do not feel the need of repetition. Well, this goes back to the familiarity issue. Keep in mind that your listener has a lot of information to absorb in a few minutes, including the results, but also your methods, your way of thinking, how your results may link to their own research, and even the meaning of your colors (for God’s sake please mark clearly on the figures what each line or color or panel stands for; in a noisy ballroom not every listener will hear you description). Their brains have been kept so busy that, by the time you’ve finished the last figure, they might have forgotten what the previous results were, or even why you needed to do the study in the first place. Give a summary. Articulate your conclusions. Nobody will complain about hearing the main points one more time however you feel they are obvious or redundant.

3. Don’t sell easily.

Some meetings have traditional oral presentations, poster sessions, as well as multiple brief oral presentations called Poster Teasers. It’s not a widely adopted form yet, but I’m observing a trend. Some presenters will come to the front of the room and say, we are studying a tough topic, and guess what? Bang! Here is our finding. Impressed? Yes, but then we don’t need to come to your poster anymore. The best one I’ve heard did this, “Here are two types of stimuli. They look similar, right? But our data shows they can cause very different responses. Want to know what the difference is? Come to Poster Number X.”

In novel writing, this is called suspense. Whenever you feel you can’t put a book down (or walk away from a poster), I can tell you that suspense is working. Whether you are giving a public speech, a poster, or writing a paper, it never hurts to introduce a little bit of suspense at the beginning. It doesn’t need to be a long-lived myth. For example, in one of the examples above, I said if we know A > B in advance, we can keep it in mind while studying the figures. There is no suspense there. If you, the presenter, have the opportunity of talking people through your poster, you should take the advantage. Tell them that some evidence points at A>B, and other seems to support the opposite. The reality is? (Don’t give it easily.) Let’s find out together. As you describe the figures along, you might see your listeners nodding involuntarily as they approach the correct answer.

4. Speak with confidence.

One advice we sometimes receive is to know your audience briefly before you start, so that you can decide how much background to be provided. Overall, it’s a sound strategy, but don’t do it excessively. Some presenters would constantly pause and ask, “How much do you know about this concept? Do I need to explain it? Are you familiar with this? Am I too fast/slow/general/concrete?” Being overly interactive breaks the flow of your story and is, frankly, quite annoying. It also gives a false impression that you are, in general, not a resolute person. This is your poster. You decide what or what not to be included. If people are confused, they can ask.

Due to the nature of posters, many studies are presented before they are ready to be peer-reviewed, if not prematurely. This should be considered as an advantage, because suggestions are most helpful during an early phase of a study. Yet we frequently hear apologies among the presentation, “We believe our finding is real, but as you can see (or we wouldn’t have mentioned it), so far we only have a small sample size.” Then they would go on and on venting on the difficulty in training their animals or recording from a particular cell type. Well, what do you expect the audience to say? If you are uncomfortable with your sample size, simply pointing it out is enough. We don't weigh a poster similarly as we do with a published paper.  If a year later you still don’t have enough data to reach statistical significance, it’s your own problem.

5. The dreaded networking.

Scientists tend to think they are horrible at networking. This is a misconception because networking isn’t something that only occurs at cocktail parties. When you present science, you are also presenting yourself. And for scientists, relationships originating from common research interests are more pleasant and sustainable than other forms of acquaintance. Just like in any type of social network, people cherish their interactions with those who are superior to or simply more experienced than themselves. Nothing wrong with that. However, when giving a poster to a group of people, treating your customers equally should be considered as a golden doctrine.

I’ve noticed that some researchers, especially juniors, ironically, only enjoy presenting to experts in their fields, and consider it a waste of time to explain basic facts to “outsiders”, probably with the notion that the latter may never cite their papers or review their grants. My experience is, sometimes you get the most useful feedback from people who you think have no idea about your topic. If you narrow your vision, you are going to narrow your path. Besides, think about what happens ten or fifteen years later. Those big names are going to retire, and that humble graduate student standing in front of you may well become your peer. Friend or enemy, you are planting the seed. People usually have good memories on those kinds of things.

When I took my new job, my chair handed me a box of name cards. I thought I’d never use any of them. I’m not a business woman. But it can be convenient when you ask the presenter to send you an electronic copy. With the formality of a card, it also assures people that you aren’t popping up from nowhere. Same thing with clothing. We are scientists. Scientists are allowed to dress casually. That’s how Hollywood pictures us as “science nerds”, right? But it never hurts to look nice. It’s a sign that you value what you are doing and conveys a sense of self-respect. At least be tidy. At least don’t “stand out” from an already casually-dressed group. If you don’t think you deserve a $20 haircut, nor will anyone else.

Always thank the presenter for spending the time, and praise the work unless you truly dislike it. Don’t be afraid that doing so may briefly interrupt his conversation with another audience. I’ve never seen a compliment being resented. If the presenter likes your feedback and shows an interest in your research, introduce yourself. Shake hands. If the presenter happens to be a student in a lab you are familiar with, and if there aren’t other people waiting to talk to the student, don’t just listen and go. Ask about the lab, the PI, previous lab members. Ask the student how long he has been there. What the near-future plan is. Show that you care. It takes only a minute, and don’t do this only when the student is also a Chinese. Behave like a family, and before long you’ll have a family.

At a conference, there are also occasions away from formal presentations. What do you say when people ask about your research? Our college recently organized a Collaboration Forum, sort of like a “group dating”. They invited people from outside the college and randomly assigned groups of five or six researchers, hoping to create “chemistry”. I doubt it has resulted in any real relationship, but I enjoyed observing people’s presentation skills. After one guy mentioned that he studies Information, which could’ve been a boring topic, he immediately dived into lively examples, such as how CEOs know they’ve collected enough trial feedback before releasing a new product. I bet I’ll remember his research ten years from now.

Another guy studies computer science. He deals with big data, has countless collaborators and student projects, but other than that I know nothing. When it’s too general, it’s meaningless. Consider how novelists create characters that long live in the reader’s head. “Begin with an individual, and before you know it you have created a type; begin with a type, and you find you have created - nothing.” (F. Scott Fitzgerald) Yes, all of your projects are important. To you. For others, they aren’t. Never as interesting as what they themselves do. So pick one highlight when people ask about your research, and if you can imprint it in their heads, call it a success.

All right, enough rambling. At least enough for the moment. If you have just returned from a wonderful presentation, keep the passion alive and finish the experiment or write up the paper. They say, “Don’t let the grass grow under your feet!”

“Or on your head,” I added.