Can Anyone Spell Graffiti?

By G. E. Shuman

The definition of the word ‘graffiti,’ according to Dictionary.com, is as follows: “Graffiti: plural of graffito. Markings, as initials, slogans, or drawings, written, spray-painted, or sketched on a sidewalk, wall of a building or public restroom, or the like.” Now you know what the word means, if you didn’t before. (It is my extreme pleasure and goal that you always leave this column at least slightly more informed than you were when you came here, even if that information gained is of no use to you in the future, whatsoever. Such will likely be the case here today.)

There are differing types of graffiti, just as mentioned in the definition, and I would like to elaborate slightly on those, for a purpose which, I think, is a good one. One type, learned at an early age, is what I would call ‘crayon’ graffiti. These are the lovely pictures of kittens, kites, and other things, sketched in crayon for Mom, on her newly-painted hallway walls or antique mahogany dresser. How adorable! Words are not incorporated here, as a picture, even in crayon, is worth a thousand of those. These early artistic attempts are meant to hone the twin talents of mischievousness and naughtiness at the youngest age possible, and they usually succeed.

Another, only slightly more advanced graffiti form is that which is found on restroom stalls and walls. I don’t have a name for this one. I would call it ’potty pics’, but that term is a bit too obvious. In these hurried attempts at art, (Who would stay in a public bathroom long enough to paint the Mona Lisa?) the pictures have changed dramatically from the crayon ones, but have not improved in quality to any great degree, although the talents of mischievousness and naughtiness are quite well-developed. Of course, the artist’s age can only be guessed. He is, after all, hiding in a toilet stall. Those pictures, and their accompanying words, are usually rendered in permanent marker ink. (It is surprising how many people are equipped with permanent markers when they enter public restrooms.) From the efforts I have seen, spelling is not a huge problem with restroom graffiti, as four-letter words are not that difficult to spell, even for restroom writers. This does bring me to the reason for the title you see way at the top of this tall stack of words.

The reason for this column topic is this: I hate the misspelling of words, even in graffiti. It just irritates me to no end, and makes the writer of those words seem a bit dim-witted, especially if his intention was to express some great bit of profound wisdom, in something as semi-permanent as the defacing of property. Here I’m not talking about abbreviations, or typos. I’m talking about good old-fashioned, honest, awful boo-boos. (By the way, in speaking of abbreviations, is there an abbreviation for the word abbreviation? If not, there should be.)

I come, at last, to my favorite type of graffiti. I would call this graffiti the bricks and mortar of the business, and it is commonly expressed on those very bricks and mortar. It is there, and on huge expanses of cinder block or cement wall areas that the graffiti artist finds the ultimate ‘concrete’ expression of his art. Although often unappreciated, especially by the owners of the bricks and mortar or concrete ‘canvases,’ such works can actually be quite nice. The medium of expression has further evolved and the words and pictures are now depicted in spray paint. (I knew that there had to be some real use for that stuff. I never painted anything very successfully with it.) The theme is, hopefully, a bit more refined and less mischievous than that seen in the restroom stall, and thus, the words tend to be not only much larger, but more complex, as well. Many actually contain two syllables, and more than four letters. Thus, to some graffiti-artists, the spelling can become a challenge.

I must just say that it would behoove the artists to do a quick spell check of any noble thought before performing the toil of transferring it, in huge form, to an unsuspecting wall or bridge abutment. It is a terrible thing to waste a perfectly good act of civil disobedience by spelling it incorrectly. To see a fine example of this problem, take exit 5 on interstate 89, and ponder the artwork wrought on one concrete end of the highway overpass there. Someone has painstakingly written, in large and lovely balloon letters, the kind sentiment, and I quote: “DON’T WORRIE, BE HAPPY!”

Good grief.