Graffiti Fall 2018

In regard to the articles read for this class, I was captivated by their underlying (and overt) argument for considering graffiti as a primary source document. This aligns with theoretical approaches of subaltern studies, cultural studies and word and image studies. But of course, as we know, “History” (with a capital H for emphasis) is written by those in power. “Official” documents are controlled by those in positions of power over others, and, considering Foucault and Mbembe’s writings on biopolitics and necropolitics, those in power retain sovereignty by exercising power over “Other” and others’ bodies. Thus, when a marginalized or subordinated group of people are physically vulnerable, the recording of historical events by the powerful is perpetuated through politics of death. Thus, by looking at, decoding, and analyzing graffiti and its contexts, we might come closer to an integral history that values the experiences and histories of those not in power. We might move closer to understanding graffiti as the intimate, the local, or the community collective––that which helps us connect with and understand the conditions of the quotidian.

Throughout my reading on Medieval Graffiti, I was confronted by the question of who was producing the markings that went up within these sacred spaces. In Jones-Baker’s essay we examine the signatures left in the stone within the churches. Some of the most prominent markings are those by the Clergy. These markings are now some of the only historical record we have of names during this time period. Less noticeable, but of equal historical importance are the signatures of the lay people left in some of the foundational stones. Through this reading I kept asking myself, why is it that names are the most common form of graffiti? Why do we feel the need to write our name over everything? Is it out of vain, out of fear of being forgotten?

I absolutely loved the essay on pilgrimage graffiti. Maybe this is because it is something I never realized I did, but I loved thinking about the idea of movement and motion as described through graffiti. The idea of sacred places being continually used as a means of maintaining its significance. Pilgrims will often leave marks on the walls of these sacred sites and as Professor Plesch states “a holy site similarly must remain in use, and such marks are indeed proof of a site’s continuing importance” (79).

It is also important to note the importance of studying graffiti as a means of closer looking at places of worship. Much of the focus throughout this reading was on graffiti found in churches and temples. Graffiti is often overlooked as a subject, but it can be a very personal and a very intimate look into how an individual interacted with a space. We know churches are spaces that exist outside of their identity as a place of worship. In the end it is a physical space people can interact with in any way that they choose. By looking at graffiti we are able to observe these interactions without a veil.

I found these readings to be incredibly interesting within the broader historical context and definition of graffiti. Something we have been wrestling with in all the readings in this course, is what graffiti actually is. We have found that the definition really seems to vary depending on cultural and historical context, location, and intentionality of its author. In general, we define graffiti as “unauthorized writing in public spaces”, however Paris O’Donell and Van Eck quote Juliet Fleming in order to prove that using graffiti as a term for medieval and early modern ‘graffiti’ can lead to difficulties. Fleming argues that writing on walls ‘was not distinguished from other writing practices in early modern England, and not yet considered a vice’. Meaning, what we now think of as graffiti, was not a known concept then, it was just simply writing on walls—which does not quite fit the standard definition.

There is a restaurant in my hometown where people have been signing their names for decades (my dad’s name was on the wall from when he was in college), and I think I signed my name on the walls of this pancake house at least four times. I remember wanting people to see my name, and I loved trying to find names that I recognized. Having read Van Eck’s piece, I now realize that this was me using graffiti as a social act, as it helped to facilitate a community among my town and create a sense of place. When the restaurant changed owners, everyone’s signatures were painted over and erased. They did not see it as a tradition, but only as ugly scribbles and by erasing it, they equivocated it to vandalism.

While that is something personal to me, it shows that people just want to leave their mark in places, to leave proof that they were there long after they’ve gone. Pilgrims visiting Holy Sites left their names, coat of arms, symbols etc. in order to leave a mark of one’s presence at a holy place. It goes beyond just simple carvings on walls, as they are proof of a site’s continuing value, and hope for a lasting connection with the divine. In the case of holy sites, graffiti were not just about markings, they had a devotional, social and personal purpose that do not deserve to be erased and thought of as vandalism.

As we familiarize ourselves with the motives and definitions of graffiti art as we move from ancient to contemporary times, one issue still remains present in my mind: the classification of what graffiti is. As mentioned in the article for this week by Paris O’Donnell, it is unclear if at the beginning, graffiti was not classified because it was considered a normal human relationship with past art, or because this method of defacement was not common enough to have a name.

I am consistently suck on the idea that the act of graffiti was such a method of communication that it was not classified as its own form of expression. It makes me question the existence of graffiti in the contemporary realm, and how this expression is so similar (and or different) from the works of antiquity that we look at now. I am curious to explore placement, as well as think more about types of graffiti explored by O’Donnell such as “family arms” and initials. It seems to be these could be similar to the tags used by contemporary artists, yet perceived so differently by the general public

 

 

After reading these essays and articles on medieval graffiti practices and images, I am once again confronted with the contradictions in basic definitions of graffiti. While many of the articles posited medieval graffiti as a normal, encouraged (or tolerated) practice of self-presentation, preservation, documentation, remembrance and communication, the article by Ritsema van Eck exposed the ways in which medieval graffiti was disapproved of by some at the sacro monte of Varallo. Van Eck articulates the challenges at arriving “at any sort of definitive conclusions about graffiti as either authorized or illicit writings in the absence of explicit bans or other types of documented disapproval or approval” (54). This is not to say that I am searching for scholarly consensus on the interpretation and acceptance of medieval graffiti–that is, of course, a preposterous expectation that erases and abstracts a diversity of perspectives, interpretations, and intentions during the Middle Ages. This is simply to point out the rich and thought-provoking nature of diverse scholarly opinions on graffiti.

Graffiti tags serve as a form of constructing immortality––perhaps out of a fear of oblivion. Graves and Rollason argue that “inscribing your name in the fabric of a building is never merely simple, but acts as a way of perpetuating your presence, and identifying with, or in some contexts defying, others associated with that building” (212). In the context of religious spaces, graffiti perhaps served to document pilgrimage, offer prayer, or, as O’Donnell writes, “invigorates intercessional prayer” (82). When inscribed in religious spaces, Matthew Champion argues that studying medieval graffiti enable scholars to infer how ordinary people interacted with the church in a quotidian context. Champion argues that graffiti has the “potential to show us how those ordinary people interacted with the church as an institution and as a building.” In analyzing graffiti locations within a religious space, one may be able to infer the ways in which people engaged with the church, performed and practiced piety, and presented and preserved devotion.

Having never explicitly studied medieval visual and material culture, I am fascinated and captivated by these accounts and cases of graffiti images and writing. I am curious to learn more about different takes on the additive and destructive visions of graffiti.

The readings from last week focussed on the performative aspect of graffiti. The readings this week share the theme of using graffiti to understand history. In all the readings, the authors give examples of using graffiti to understand the cultural, religious, political, and economic trends of the Middle Ages. In Doris Jones-Baker’s essay “English Mediaeval Graffiti and the Local Historian,” Baker discusses the various ways graffiti can be used to understand medieval society. She points to graffiti as records of secular life, graffiti as drawings of historic records, graffiti as records of names, graffiti as records of natural occurrences, and graffiti as records of the architects of the church. Thus, Baker uses graffiti as a historical record. Mia Gaia Trentin,  in her essay,”Medieval and Post-Medieval Graffiti in the Churches of Cyprus, also uses graffiti as a historical record to understand medieval Cyprus society.  Through the analysis of the different styles and types of graffiti in the churches of Cyprus,  Trentin traces the evolution of Cyprus society and the changes in trade, rulers, and religion.

Another interesting theme found throughout these articles is the question of whether graffiti is an illicit or accepted practice and the reasons why graffiti is most commonly found in churches. Marianne Ritsema van Eck explores the question of graffiti in religious spaces in her essay “Graffiti in Medieval and Early Modern Religious Spaces: Illicit or Accepted Practice?” Marianne first discusses the purpose of graffiti as laying claim to its location. She then goes on to argue that graffiti can be used as a social act and/or a devotional act. She argues that it is hard to determine if graffiti was authorized or not without looking at outside documents.

In “Graffiti in Medieval and Early Modern Religious Spaces: Illicit or Accepted Practice?”  Marianne includes two contrasting opinions regarding the appropriateness of graffiti in sacred spaces. In contrast, Blindheim argues that graffiti was not allowed in sacred spaces. Blindheim states that the graffiti found on walls in sacred spaces was done by the church builders and travelers before consecration. After the church became a holy space, Blindheim claims that graffiti stopped because it was deemed unacceptable. In contrast, Annette Jones argues that graffiti is not illicit because the text was appropriate for the space (ie. religious carvings). She then offers a hypothesis for the graffiti in sacred spaces, stating that people wrote their names as a way of commemorating their pilgrimage and/or creating a lasting connection with the divine. This essay, as well as the other readings for this week, made me really think about the nature of graffiti in holy spaces. Last week we looked at graffiti in ancient Egyptian temples, but we also looked at graffiti on the street and in the home.  However, this week, the essays all argue that graffiti was an act of pilgrimage or religious devotion, and therefore, belongs in a sacred place. This notion of whether graffiti is illicit or not relates to my essay topic on Five Pointz and the lawsuit surrounding this graffiti.