Your Walls Do Talk: Piecing People Together One Poster At A Time

I would bet the last five dining dollars in my account that you could guess three things about me after a minute in my room. Ready?

Did you say “loves cars, is a Capricorn, and isn’t in Wharton”? Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. You probably even threw in a couple more, like “loves art history” and “speaks French.” But how are you getting all this vital information about me without even stalking my Instagram? Well, it’s because my walls spell it out—and I bet yours do too.

Whether it’s high-quality gloss or library-printed memes, college students are obsessed with posters. I’m no different. Even though I’d never cared much about decorating my room at home, peacefully coexisting with the paintings I chose at thirteen, the moment I laid eyes on the barren expanse of a Hill wall, I knew: I needed to put something there. Eight posters, seven postcards, two stickers, and a Penn pennant later, I consider myself a bit of an expert.

They didn’t all come to me at once. I arrived with a measly three Formula One—yeah, you’re understanding the “loves cars” thing now—and a souvenir from a trip to Paris. The rest came over the following months of freshman year, each bringing its own memory. I can feel the September heat on my neck as I bend down to examine the postcards at the poster fair on Locust Walk, rubbing my fingers over the gloss of a Capricorn constellation in one hand and Van Gogh’s Sunflowers in another; I can hear the roar of Houston on a rainy day: rain against pavement, the chatter of the lunch crowd, and the voice telling me to go see Mask and Wig’s show as a Vaude Villany flyer is shoved into my hand; and I can still remember how it felt to hold the newest Penn Electric Racing poster in my hands for the first time, surrounded by the sound of our workshop, our operations team playlist, and the voices of strangers who’ve become some of my closest friends through this club. As I look over my walls for this article, I can feel, smell, hear, and see the sights of my first semester at Penn like they’re playing out in front of me. From a glance at my walls, you could read me like an open book (or, more accurately, the texts of the person next to you in lecture).

It isn’t just me. Every time I step into my friends’ dorms, I discover pieces of who they are. I still hear the sounds of my friend’s first acapella concert whenever I glance at the shining glitter of her name across the poster hung above her window. In another room, I get to witness my friend’s past and future play out over her bed: watching the sun set over the cathedral that gave her high school its name, painted by her own hands, and tasting a bit of L.A. through the menu she brought back from her Wharton Industry Exploration Program. There are countless other dorms I could describe, filled with everything from strung-up polaroids to collections of peeling name tags. Each and every one bears the heart of its occupants.

For students living on their own for the first time, the blank canvas of their freshman dorm provides the perfect opportunity to map out who they are—and who they want to become. When we come home to our new “home” on campus, we’re greeted by the pieces of ourselves we’ve handpicked from campus poster fairs, club tables, and every corner of the world we’ve reached. The walls of Penn’s dorms do talk: they tell the story of each journey of self-discovery that starts with that first step across their entryway.

Oh, and how did you know I wasn’t in Wharton? Because I have a Penn pennant instead of a Wharton one, obviously.

Featured Image: Courtesy of Pinterest