Whether it’s hastily scribbled in pen, elaborately scrawled in Sharpie or crudely etched with a paper clip, we’ve all laid eyes upon the musings of our peers in an extremely unconventional setting: the lavatory.
After all, what better place is there to ponder life’s deepest thoughts than the very place where we also perform one of life’s most basic and primitive functions?
Turns out I’m not alone in my recognition of this rising art form. In fact, the late folklorist Alan Dundes of UC-Berkeley coined the term “latrinalia” back in 1966 to describe the locutions of the loo, and bathroom graffiti from the world over can be viewed on www.latrinalia.org long after it’s been painted over by “the man.”
But in all honesty, I’ve always been rather perplexed as to why individuals feel the compulsion to express themselves amidst such plain, uninspiring surroundings. I certainly don’t feel at my creative best in a bleak, fluorescently-lit and slightly claustrophobic stall.
What’s really striking about bathroom graffiti — particularly college bathroom graffiti — is its diversity. Upon the ugly tan or stark white walls, a plethora of thoughts and opinions abound.
One might find a poem, a song lyric or a piece of social commentary: “end the war in Iraq,” “9/11 was rigged” or “Come Together.”
Complaints and worries about classes and academic programs aren’t rare. I once saw “I’m afraid I’ll never get into Kelley,” under which a more cynical, seasoned student replied, “I’m afraid I’ll never get out.”
Those passing through the shared space can converse via the question-and-answer format, proposing clever thoughts or adding meaningful bits of wisdom to a thread. I spotted one such quandary in Ballantine Hall: “How do you get over a guy you’ve been dating since you were 9?”
Once I was past the initial confusion as to how one goes about beginning a relationship at the ripe old age of nine, I was strangely touched by the thoughtful responses and words of support scribbled underneath.
Some also choose the very public medium of the latrine to declare their love and unending devotion for others. They write initials, hearts and anniversary dates — a more grown-up form of the lovesick grade school notebook doodles and a much lazier, unromantic version of carving your sweetheart’s name on the trunk of a tree.
Other, more controversial commentators enjoy sparking debate on the walls of the WC. Rarely do I enter a stall without reading a contentious set of snarky back-and-forths arguing the existence of God.
As if my opinions on the merits of religion are often influenced by the offhand jottings-down of anonymous strangers.
Ha.
And then there’s my personal favorite category of latrinalia: the completely and utterly random.
One such example was spotted in a School of Fine Arts bathroom: “I’m a vampire!” written in black Sharpie and dotted with a heart. Another intelligent vandal crossed out “vampire” and added “complete tool.”
In that same stall another individual elected to broadcast her love of “artsy chicks” on the door. Dissidents and critics were quick to join in, saying, “You only like them because they put out” and “This is one of the dumbest things I’ve ever seen written on a stall door.”
Although I’m sure it’s inaccurate, I like to imagine that the latrinalia found in bathrooms throughout campus reflect the demographics of the students that pass through them.
In Fine Arts bathrooms, the graffiti is often quirky and offbeat.
In Ballantine and other academic halls, the majority of restroom-goers seem to commonly and concurrently experience both strokes of genius and existential crises between classes.
In Foster Quad, doodles and scribbles are rife with vulgarity and mentions of illegal activity.
And in the well-behaved Collins Living-Learning Center, bathroom graffiti simply doesn’t seem to exist.
Perhaps the latter example is evidence that latrinalia is a direct result of a lack of creative outlets for students on campus. In Collins, residents have the ability to write on whiteboards, utilize the center’s many arts facilities, write in weekly Collins Columns and perform in open mic nights. For students in other areas of campus, mediums of expression aren’t quite as easy to come by.
Of course, this is a just a theory. Latrinalia could stem from a variety of motivations: boredom, wanting to kill some time between classes, the desire to reach a wide array of individuals or maybe just the thrill of doing something that’s against the rules.
While the graffiti of fellow students can be entertaining — if not enlightening at times — it is ultimately against University policy and costly when carried out. I certainly do not wish to condone the art of latrinalia on campus in any way.
However, I think that much can be learned about our fellow students from the vandalism on the walls of our stalls.
Students pour out their hearts and their souls, their sarcasm and their speculations. They contemplate, insult, deliberate and defy the rules.
While it would be best not to partake in the trend, next time you find yourself in a restroom on campus, take a moment to read the writing on the wall.
We all have to go; we might as well have something to look at.
E-mail: kabeasle@indiana.edu
