An Ode to Graffiti Bridge

It’s a late night and you want a break from homework. You begin to stroll around campus and your mind wanders. You pass Prothro, then Olin, then the Chapel. You walk along the paths next to the upperclass dorms and find yourself on the periphery of the Dorothy Lord Center Apartments. The street lights emit a warm amber glow and you can finally see a few stars. You ponder on where the night will take you. You take note of the charming one-story Georgetown houses along the way.

The cemetery gates come into view. You read the sign: IOOF Cemetery, The International Order of Odd Fellows, Open from 7 AM to 9 PM. It is well past 9 PM, but that doesn’t stop you.

As you walk on the dirt path, you kick the pebbles in front of you. The trees gently sway. The night breeze cools your face. Gravestones of varying shapes and sizes stand against the cosmic horizon, decorated with artificial flowers. Beyond the graves, you reach the far end of the path, closed off by a swinging gate with a combination lock on it.

Next to the gate, there is a gap wide enough for a person to comfortably walk through. A new dirt path opens up, but it is clear nature has staked its claim on the spot, as foliage outstretches into the path’s edges. The occasional lizard darts into the bushes. Looking down at the shrubs and wildflowers, you notice little squirrel statues and smile. After a few minutes, you find a more disturbing sight.

A cattle skull stares at you dead in the eyes, sitting atop a pole. The bones have been bleached white from the hot Texas sun. You have heard that this might be because the space beyond campus has been worked as a cattle farm for generations, but to you it looks like something from The Lord of the Flies.

Something tells you not to go on that path, so you continue your journey forward instead. The dirt path turns into asphalt, where you find another startling sight. Marked with faded red spray pain, the words “Getting closer…” and an arrow pointing in front of you appear.

It’s too far to go back now, so you keep walking. Finally, you reach a clearing, framed by old fence poles on either side. These poles are covered in stickers and sharpie drawings, signaling to you that this is a space claimed by students, not only cattle and squirrels. Ahead of you is an old concrete bridge. You hear the stream trickling below your feet. You can actually see the stream through the concrete on the bridge, because years ago a flood broke the bridge, making it unsafe for cars to use. You have made it to your destination: Graffiti Bridge.

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My favorite time to visit Graffiti Bridge is at night, as I have described in this entry. However, the pictures I took for this entry were during the day for better visibility. It is still beautiful during the day, but the ambience is more nostalgic and philosophical at night. Given that, it honestly felt strange to see it in the sunlight. Please note that you can probably find the place for yourself given my description above, but because many students try to protect the secret, we have not pinned this entry to its actual location.

Some students’ names are etched onto the pavement, as well as the initials of lovers. Some of the graffiti is religious, some of it is political, and some of it is just for fun. It is clearly a space where students are unsurveilled and feel free to do whatever they want without consequence, since they are anonymous and out of view.

This place has become my spray-painted solace. I have heard that this is a place where some students go to sit and smoke marijuana with their friends. I’ve never run into that here, and for a place where illegal activity occurs, it is actually quite serene. This is the place I have shared my most personal stories with my friends, deepening my connections to the people on campus I most want to connect to.

In a small school with limited opportunities to freely express yourself without consequence or judgment, it is vital to preserve places like this. It is out in nature, away from the burdens of “Mouthwestern” and Yik Yak, the platforms that foster student gossip. It is a place to truly be yourself, scream your secrets into the wilderness, skip stones in the stream, and do graffiti if you please.

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Although the graveyard leads you directly to Graffiti Bridge, it can also be accessed by walking past the EcoLab and through the fields. Much like walking on the seal after graduation, finding the Story Tree, and making offerings to Monstrance, it’s a student rite of passage, but one that the University has not yet adopted as its own.

There is a clear distinction between what traditions Southwestern University is willing to advertise or not. The Story Tree, Monstrance, and Graffiti Bridge are all student-created rituals, but only the Story Tree and Monstrance are openly marketed with pride. Students only hear about Graffiti Bridge through word of mouth by other students.

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Unfortunately, this space is at risk of being demolished. I’ve heard that the bridge is on a part of Smith Creek that will be developed in the next few years as the Southwestern 560 Development unfolds. This entry anticipates that fate, intending to keep the memory of the bridge alive even after it is gone.

But I have to say: even when the bridge is built over and long gone, the history of student culture at Southwestern tells us that students will find another secret spatial outlet to freely express themselves, ponder the human condition, and have heart-to-heart conversations with one another, outside of the purview of the grown-ups in charge.

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