All photos by Jessica Mason
I believe that art hides in plain sight. Poetry thrives in open spaces. In ambiguous, noisy spots, it sits in between cracks and slits on pavements and in walls, and it begs to be noticed. There is something so poignant about poetry that escapes the confines of pen, paper and screen. In fact, I think the best poetry is all around us, all the time.
I am referring to the poetry that is scrawled on walls, hands, tables – the most boring and basic spaces in which poetry does not conventionally belong. I enjoy being caught out by the beauty of a phrase on an exam desk or a silent plea to the world from a bathroom wall. It’s like I’m sharing a secret. Like someone is sending out a message in a bottle to the hopeless, hungry sea and yet by some stroke of luck, I am the one who scrapes it from the sand and holds that evidence of life in my hands. People often question what defines poetry. They ask, ‘How do we decide what is poetry and what isn’t?’ But I think one of the most exciting and wonderful characteristics of poetry is that it cannot be squashed into a box. Poetry defies convention. It doesn’t play by the rules.
I took this photo a couple of months ago, in a bar in Liverpool called The Jacaranda. I went to the bathroom and saw this brief exchange on the toilet roll holder next to me, and it made me smile. I enjoy the paradox of this sort of exchange, simultaneously public and secret. It felt like I was sharing something with the two people who had happened to have pens in the toilet and decided to write something silly and ironic and beautiful. This, I thought, this is poetry. Poetry is the thoughts we share with others. Poetry is making someone laugh when they see your toilet graffiti.
I also believe that poetry hides in snatches of overheard conversations. There is a beauty in the small snippets of people’s lives we hear when going about our own. It makes the world feel wider, busier, warmer. When I hear friends laughing over something, when I hear moments of monotone mutterings into a phone as someone speeds past, when I catch a few lines of beautifully slurred ramblings on the stairs in Spoons, it all forms a cascade of ridiculous and wonderful poetry. It gives us insight into other streams of consciousness. It is a reminder that everyone is consumed by their own lives and their own perspectives.
My friend sent me the cover photo of this article a few months ago – a picture of pavement art from Gloucester Green. She told me it made her day and filled her with joy, and she wanted to share that joy with me. I remember smiling, not just because of the words themselves, but because of the fact that she stumbled across a message that had such an impact on her.
I think there is a sense of unity that accompanies public art and public poetry. These artists don’t just hide away behind the conventional literary tools, but express themselves loudly and boldly to a grand mass of people they will never see. Through their shouts to the world, their messages for society, we gain an insight into a hidden mind.
I enjoy the hurried nature and the anonymity of the poetry hidden on walls in cubicles. In my sixth form, there was one toilet that would always be covered with messages, mantras, political statements, doodles, private confessions and arguments between a red biro and a sharpie. It’s interesting how people feel they can share their most private secrets in this way. That’s why the intimacy broadcast to the public through a hurried message on a wall feels like poetry to me. It’s a message in a bottle, a form of self expression, a way to make people’s voices heard through words. The explosion of voices on this toilet wall always captivated me, and though I may be over-romanticising it, where else do we see such a tangible compilation of public yet secret poetry? These walls express the most taboo sentiments so casually, reaching me amidst my everyday chaos. Following me, chasing me.
That’s why I think you can’t define poetry. You can’t box it. It is fluid expression, an art form that escapes all confines. It is both public and private. It is so loud and yet it whispers the most intimate and personal sentiments. This is how we see the world, and how we express all that the world makes us feel. In short, it is all around us. Poetry is inescapable.