Making your mark

Graffiti is nothing new. For some reason, making your mark is an animal imperative, and in humans it takes the form of writing and drawing on things - things that society would rather you didn't write and draw on.

In Westminster Cathedral in London, the guide showed us the coronation throne - a wooden throne that has been used for the coronations of English kings and queens for centuries. Once upon a time it was out in the cathedral where you could touch it, and sit on it for a photo. Now it is on a pedestal, awaiting Charles or William - and covered in the initials of countless school children who were probably bored silly whilst on a visit.

I remember the first time I climbed on Stonehenge as a little girl (yes, back then, you could mingle with the stones and sit on them). I remember seeing names carved into the stones and I had a real visceral feeling of sadness about it. It struck me as so wrong, even at such a tender age.

Wrong or not, I find it fascinating as a historical document. Some of the sculptures in St. Denis in Paris were liberally peppered with graffiti, all deeply carved into the marble flesh of the effigies and guardians on the tombs. "Chevrier" even dated his on a saint's knee - in 1618. I doubt it would happen here now as the works are closely guarded, never left alone in the public eye for more than a few minutes. It strikes me that this kind of graffiti isn't really an impulse affair as it would take a true commitment of time to carve out words on marble. Check out "Gabriel Pascot" on the woman's collarbone - the letters have serifs!

I wonder who Chevrier and Gabriel were.