With Fall Quarter under way, most upperclassmen will be settling in to their new off-campus digs. And when the boxes are unpacked, one problem many will encounter in those dwellings is a sense of sparseness. Sure, two lava lamps and a Che Guevara poster were enough to fill a 10-by-15 dorm room, but when accompanied by only a Nintendo chair and a straw-filled mattress, they will leave your house looking like the barren tundra. You will have no choice but to decorate.
When outfitting an abode, begin by identifying and elaborating upon the native design elements. Vomit and urine stains on the carpet? Find drapes that match the color. Ragged hole in the drywall? Grab a sledgehammer and make it a house theme. The landlord might complain, but what does he know about artistic continuity? Just make sure you have plenty of spackle on hand when it's time to reclaim the security deposit.
Don't just focus on furniture or wall hangings either -sculpture or installation art can really tie a room together. A common choice is the Beeramid, which is much like the Grand Cheops in its shape but constructed from cans of Natural Light -or in the case of more discerning drinkers, Pabst Blue Ribbon. The off-campus popularity of the Beeramid springs from many design ideals.
It is minimalist in that it is made from everyday -or every night -materials. The aluminum also gives it an industrial feel, and the often simple graphics on the cans leave the work without pretense. It is environmentally friendly; rather than piling up in the landfill, it piles up in the living room. It also suggests a chronology -last night's revelry is today's statuary is tomorrow's liver failure. Finally, the design is easily adaptable. If built on a tarp or drop cloth, the tower in the window easily becomes a pile on your closet floor when Mom and Dad drop by for a visit.
Although the space usage of in-the-round design is appealing, the personal choice of my roommate and me is the linear Row of Beer Bottles. In our collection, the imported labels -some from as far as Canada and Mexico -lend an air of sophistication lacking in the domestic drafts. The pedestals on which the collection rests -two tower speakers and a DVD rack -give an ascendant presence to the work while connecting it with the electronic-entertainment theme reflected elsewhere. The grouping is epic, not merely in its size but also in the adventure it relays, one of hard nights and harder mornings to follow.
It is often hard for all parties to agree on a scheme. That is evident in my apartment; the barley and hops-based décor of which one of my roommates -who happens to be a girl -feels lacks a certain je ne sais quo. The two bathrooms are most demonstrative of our decorative disconnect. The bathroom she uses has a theme -formerly rubber duckies but now in transition, possibly to SpongeBob. Also, it smells nice.
Ours does not. The gentlemen's bathroom does not have a theme per se, though it could be said to be a tribute to my Italian heritage, not in the traditional sense of frescoes or grape vines or dead bookies but in that there is a lot of hair all over the place, even, somehow, inside the toilet tank. Needless to say, we have a standing monthly order for Drano.
Roommates need not always quibble over design though. We all helped to cultivate the multi-faceted motif of our kitchen. On the counter top, there is theme of symbiosis: symbiosis between a putrid growth and the caked residue of Great Value shells and cheese, which we eat a lot of, having spent all our money on (decorative) beer. It then transitions to a theme of mystery -of what does the strange growth consist? That mystery connects with the sink's tentative theme.
When you look at it, you cannot help but be struck by several questions. Just how high can we stack the dishes? Are there potentially dangerous knives in the cloudy dishwater? Are there any clean spoons, or will I have to eat my yogurt with a spatula again?
The possibilities for design grow with every corner you turn and every passing week that you fail to clean behind the refrigerator. The only limit is your mind -and possibly your height. Just don't forget the spackle.
-Noah Blundo is a senior journalism major. Send him an e-mail at nb344002@ohiou.edu.
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