What’s in a Name?

Ask an engineer what they do, and the answer is generally understood. The same can be said of an accountant, an investment banker or a mechanic. In the creative industries, the answer is rarely so straightforward.

We are frequently asked to reposition ourselves, our experience and our titles to meet the expectations of an institution, a sector or an individual brief. A producer becomes an event manager. An event manager becomes a project manager. Sometimes the work changes. Often, the institution does.

Of course, the distinctions matter. Delivering a visual arts exhibition is not the same as producing theatre or managing a major public event. Each demands its own knowledge, relationships and technical understanding.

Yet the fundamentals of delivery remain consistent: scope, budget, programme, stakeholders, risk and execution. The orchestration of disciplines towards a shared objective. The translation of an idea into a real-world experience.

So why do we define ourselves by the differences between our disciplines, rather than the capabilities that connect them?

I have long held that a great event manager can make a great producer, just as a great producer can make a great event manager. Each informs the other. Moving between these perspectives is not a dilution of expertise, but an expansion of it.

And yet, across our connected industries, we sometimes work harder to distinguish ourselves than to recognise what we might achieve together.

As technology reshapes the event landscape, I find myself returning to something much older.

Storytelling.

The Greeks understood the relationship between space, spectacle, civic life and the collective experience of an audience. Their theatres were architectural expressions of a society gathering to witness and participate in something larger than itself.

The architecture mattered. The staging mattered. The relationship between performer, audience and environment mattered.

And the story mattered most of all.

Perhaps this is where our disciplines meet most meaningfully: in our shared responsibility to shape an experience with intention.

An event can be operationally flawless and still have nothing to say. A theatrical production can be technically extraordinary and still fail to connect. The distinction between delivering an experience and creating one is worth considering.

As we refine our titles and reposition our experience against an evolving landscape of opportunity, perhaps we should lift our eyes from the computer screen.

Look beyond the job description. Beyond the industry convention. Beyond the title.

Perhaps the most valuable thing we bring to the table is not the name of our discipline, but the breadth of our understanding.

The Greeks gave us the architecture. We have spent centuries finding new ways to inhabit it.

Perhaps it is time we became more interested in what we can build together.

After all, what’s in a name?