Knowledge belongs in the world, not locked away.
Em Ribeirão Preto, entre cervejas e conversas, mais de vinte e cinco pesquisadores desceram das universidades para sentar-se com a cidade e falar sobre o que sabem. O Pint of Science — festival internacional que chega ao seu décimo ano na cidade — transforma bares em espaços de saber, levando temas como saúde mental, inteligência artificial e autismo a quem nunca pisaria num auditório acadêmico. Que o evento integre agora as comemorações dos 170 anos de Ribeirão Preto diz algo sobre o tempo em que vivemos: a ciência, quando bem comunicada, deixa de ser privilégio e passa a ser patrimônio coletivo.
- O conhecimento científico ainda chega a poucos — e o Pint of Science existe precisamente para romper essa barreira, levando pesquisadores a cervejarias de segunda a quarta-feira, com entrada gratuita.
- Vinte e cinco especialistas, nove palestras, três espaços: a programação abarca desde neurociência e comportamento animal até IA, canabidiol e proteções trabalhistas em saúde mental.
- A tensão entre o mundo acadêmico e o cotidiano das pessoas encontra aqui uma tentativa de resolução — não pela simplificação, mas pela mudança de cenário: menos púlpito, mais balcão de bar.
- Ao ser incorporado às celebrações do aniversário de 170 anos da cidade, o festival sinaliza que a comunicação científica deixou de ser iniciativa marginal para tornar-se parte da identidade urbana de Ribeirão Preto.
A partir desta segunda-feira, Ribeirão Preto recebe o Pint of Science, festival internacional que faz algo simples e raro: leva pesquisadores a bares para conversar sobre ciência com quem quiser ouvir. Sem auditórios, sem formalidade acadêmica. Apenas especialistas e curiosos, cerveja na mão, discutindo saúde mental, inteligência artificial, autismo e canabidiol. A entrada é gratuita e as conversas vão até quarta-feira.
São nove palestras distribuídas por três cervejarias — Invicta, Amarillo e SP-330, em Bonfim Paulista — com início às 19h em cada noite. A programação foi desenhada para refletir a diversidade do público: na segunda, professores da USP discutem como esportes e fatores sociais moldam comportamentos, enquanto outros especialistas exploram o paladar brasileiro e os mitos em torno dos remédios para emagrecer. Na terça, psiquiatra, psicóloga e advogado trabalhista debatem saúde mental e direitos no trabalho; em outra cervejaria, professores questionam se máquinas podem de fato criar — e o que isso significa para a criatividade humana.
Este é o décimo ano do festival em Ribeirão Preto, e a data não passou despercebida: o evento foi incorporado à programação oficial das comemorações dos 170 anos da cidade. Essa integração revela uma mudança de postura — a ciência comunicada fora da academia deixou de ser curiosidade para tornar-se parte do modo como a cidade pensa seu futuro.
O formato é, em si, uma declaração. Ao escolher bares em vez de salas de aula, o Pint of Science parte de uma premissa generosa: as pessoas são curiosas, são capazes de lidar com ideias complexas e merecem acesso ao conhecimento sem barreiras de custo ou protocolo. A cerveja está gelada, a conversa é livre, e as perguntas são bem-vindas.
Starting Monday evening, Ribeirão Preto is hosting Pint of Science, an international festival that does something simple but uncommon: it brings researchers into bars to talk about their work. No lecture halls, no academic formality. Just scientists and specialists sitting down with beer drinkers to discuss topics that actually matter—mental health, artificial intelligence, autism, cannabidiol, the science of taste. The festival runs through Wednesday, and admission is free.
Nine talks are scheduled across three venues: Cervejaria Invicta, Cervejaria Amarillo, and the SP-330 brewery location in Bonfim Paulista. Each evening begins at 7 p.m. More than twenty-five researchers, professors, and invited experts are participating, drawn largely from local universities—USP, Unaerp, and others—along with lawyers, consultants, and professionals from adjacent fields. The lineup reflects a deliberate effort to connect academic research with the concerns of ordinary people.
The topics span neuroscience and public health to technology and innovation. On Monday at Invicta, two professors from USP's School of Physical Education will discuss how physical activity, fighting sports, and social factors shape behavior. That same evening at Amarillo, speakers will explore why we like what we drink—a conversation about Brazilian palates and gastronomy. At the SP-330 location, two pharmaceutical scientists will examine myths and facts about weight-loss medications. The range is intentional: science is not one thing, and neither is the audience.
Mental health gets its own dedicated session on Tuesday at Invicta, with three speakers including a psychiatrist, a psychologist, and a labor lawyer addressing everything from self-care to workplace protections. Artificial intelligence appears on Tuesday at SP-330, where professors will ask whether machines can truly create, and what that means for human creativity in an age of algorithmic art. Animal behavior, cannabidiol's therapeutic uses, gamification for autistic children, and the path from laboratory research to commercial product all have their moment across the three days.
This year marks the festival's tenth anniversary in the city. It has become woven into Ribeirão Preto's cultural calendar and now forms part of the official programming for the city's 170th anniversary celebrations. That integration signals something worth noting: science communication has moved from the margins into the mainstream of how cities think about themselves and their future. The festival's premise—that people want to understand research, that they'll show up on a Monday night to hear about it, that the right setting is a bar rather than a university—has proven durable enough to become institutional.
The format itself is the message. By moving talks out of academic buildings and into spaces where people naturally gather, Pint of Science assumes something about its audience: they are curious, they are capable of engaging with complex ideas, and they deserve access to expertise without barriers of cost or formality. Whether the conversation turns to mental health legislation, the ethics of artificial intelligence, or the science behind a favorite drink, the underlying gesture is the same. Knowledge belongs in the world, not locked away. Come as you are. Bring your questions. The beer is cold and the talk is free.
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does a bar feel like the right place for this conversation about science?
Because that's where people actually are. A university lecture hall is intimidating if you're not already part of that world. A bar is neutral ground. You're already comfortable there. You can ask a dumb question without feeling like you're wasting someone's time.
Do you think people come for the science or for the excuse to be in a bar?
Both, probably. But that's not a problem. If someone shows up because their friend wanted a beer and stays because they got genuinely interested in how artificial intelligence affects creativity, that's a win. The format removes the pretense.
What's the difference between this and a typical university lecture?
Everything. No grades, no prerequisites, no sense that you should already know this stuff. The speakers aren't performing for other academics. They're explaining their work to neighbors. It changes how you talk about what you do.
Does it work? Do people actually engage?
The fact that it's in its tenth year in this city suggests yes. And it's now part of the official 170th anniversary celebration. That doesn't happen unless the city sees value in it.
What happens after Wednesday? Does the conversation end?
Not really. People go home thinking about what they heard. Some of them might look up the researchers. Some might change how they think about mental health or AI or their own behavior. That's the point—you plant a seed and let it grow.