Perpetuation

Being a tourist, what does it entail? Visiting foreign countries, “getting to know” different cultures, gradually ticking visited places and sights off a map or just taking a break from the routine. Essentially, being a tourist means to gain something, be it a new perspective, a souvenir, a story to tell, a break or just a tan line. This inherent gain presupposes that the places the tourist visits leave some kind of mark on the foreign body, even if not always tangible. But how does the visiting body leave its mark on the place? Is the individual acknowledged, remembered, or does their essence drown in the flood of the masses? Is the supposed anonymity of the tourist the reason why the tourist as an individual feels the need to leave a mark, to perpetuate her name? “Mark was here”, “Mark 2016”, or simply “Mark”. 

In many cities, the observant citizen will notice the notorious scribbles of “I was here” left on the walls of bathroom stalls—or other more monumental locations—written by visitors and tourists. Walls are where individuals like to leave their mark, sprayed, written in pen and marker, or even carved into the material—perpetuated until further notice. What struck me as particularly fascinating in Valetta and Victoria were not bathroom walls, but the carvings in the limestone buildings. Here tourists, and other individuals, perpetuated their names in the soft stone. Used for buildings and monuments, limestone provides the perfect material for the sculpting of the tourist’s own monument, the manifestation of their fleeting presence. Whether on the walls of the Lower Gardens in Valletta or on the stairs of the Cittadella in Gozo, people like to leave their mark, claiming the (public) space with their temporary presence and continuing to linger on the walls. The carvings and scribbles left behind, can be considered the markers of the tourist. In concordance with Jonathan Culler’s “The Semiotics of Tourism”, these manifestations are the markers that represent what constitutes the tourist’s mannerism, such as the claiming of space. The markers of the tourist are in dialogue with the markers of what makes a sight, a tourist attraction, a sight—as the tourist preferably perpetuates her name in meaningful spaces, which are represented by tourist attractions like the Cittadella and the Lower Gardens. These representative spaces tend to be considered the markers of local culture. 

The carving into the limestone walls differs from mere writing on the wall, due to the fact that rather than adding to the building, the carving takes away from it. The tourist, therefore, once again gains from his experiences and actions. Ultimately, the perpetuating of one’s own name, or variations that include the date or certain statements, seems to further solidify the notions of tourism that scream “been there, done that”. By writing one’s name and even adding a “… was here in …”, the carving (and the writing) become actions that physically tick off a location from the respective map of desirable sights to be seen. The writing on walls—in particular in a political context—can be considered a marker for the seizing of public space. However, in this context, the carving that I observed appears as a rather individualistic act of appropriation, that claims the space as belonging to the tourist and his aspirations.