MONIQUE KOSKIE
Opinions Writer
Feb. 3 to 5 was the semi-annual poster sale. But it was not held in Place Riel as so many of us remember it; no, it was down in the Arts Tunnel.
While the location move was warranted for many reasons, least of which space being of concern, it seemed sad. I am not trying to say tears will be shed due to the location change, but with the new location it was less chaotic, no giggles were heard, and snide remarks gone.
I have passed by the boards several times and never did I see a line-up to pay for a given selection of posters. A curious side note: It would be interesting to see the sales numbers from before the change of location compared to the present location. Perhaps I am not in the tunnel during peak times.
I grew up with posters being all the rage. Having your record (vinyl) being signed was cool (cassette tapes never worked as well for autograph). My older sister covered her walls with posters. She was extremely proud of her poster collection and she would often boast about how her walls could not be seen. She spent many hours perfecting her walls of posters; she even came up with a system to apply a card barrier between the poster and Sticky Tack so as not to allow it to grease and wreck the poster. (This was before the whole scrapbooking craze, with readily available picture-friendly adhesives that could be applied and reused again and again without harm to your picture or wall.)
Posters seem to be a nostalgic pastime, and when coming to university after leaving our homes or high schools for new adventures, posters were one more way to connect to our carefree, silly, loving youth. I never understood the appeal of posters or autographs when I was a kid — or now for that matter. I was almost an outcast when I was 10 because I didn’t know who the latest heart-throb was that month and didn’t have his image looking over me in my bed.
Friends would buy the latest magazines to pull out the centre poster of the latest teen idol or favourite TV show group picture. I loved watching Degrassi Junior High and Saved by the Bell. However Slater never made an appearance in my room, nor anyone from the cast of the original Degrassi. These images people valued so highly seem illogical when applied to me.
Why would I fall in love for a person whom I will never know, never meet and if somehow did meet, as if I could expect them to have the same personality as they do on TV or in the magazines? It wasn’t that I thought I was ugly or unimportant; it just felt unrealistic.
Even with bands I enjoyed, I didn’t much care to put their posters on my wall or stand in line for an autograph proving I was in their presence. No matter how covered my walls were, it did not prove how much or little of a fan I was.
Yet with all that said: As I walked through the tunnel last week I couldn’t help but miss the maze of people fighting to catch glimpses of what posters are on a particular board.
I appreciate that people buy posters for a wide variety of reasons, like personal taste or interests. I have had people buy me one from time to time, something they thought was funny or I would like. However the posters never last on my walls. Why? I cannot say. Sometimes I really do like the image, but it is short lived in my possession.
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photo: Flickr / CC BY-ND 2.0