A Student’s Stairwell, as Evaluated by an Anxious Introvert
While I have only visited a relatively small number of college campuses, it is reasonable to assume that certain features are present on nearly every campus. One such feature, the stairs, are often overlooked; acting as less of a proper environment but rather a place of transition. It’s easy to take just about every stairwell for granted. And yet, if you look close enough, you will see that a stairwell is often home to an emotional atmosphere all its own. Actually, two atmospheres.
For the last several months, I have been attending Western Washington University; located in Bellingham, Washington. Since my arrival, I have spent much of my time in my dorm room which is located on the third floor of the first building in what is called the Fairhaven complex; an assortment of student housing on the southern end of campus. As a result, I utilize my building’s stairwell almost every day.
Aesthetically speaking, my buildings stairwell isn’t much to write about. The stairs are accompanied by barren white walls, robbing the environment of any genuine character. There is only one window located between the first and second floor. This single window is so slim, that it lets in very little natural light. Given the size of the window, there isn’t much of a sight to see, which renders its presence nearly worthless. Each stair is made of a hard gray plastic that is just as bland as the walls. The same cannot be said of the handrail, which has been painted a very dark shade of green. As far as color combinations go, white and green look alright together. Perhaps I’m a bit biased to such a color combination, as my middle school colors were also white and green. As I said, it’s not very impressive.
All of these aesthetic traits, both good and bad, are important to the stairwell’s overall atmosphere. According to the author Orison Swett Madden, “Your outlook upon life, your estimate of yourself, your estimate of your value are largely colored by your environment. Your whole career will be modified, shaped, molded by your surroundings”. Every environment instills in its occupants a certain feeling, and my stairwell is no different. However, stairs can be distinguished from other environments in this area of examination. Like a hallway, stairs act as a link between different environments. Because of this, the feeling a stairwell gives off is somewhat dependent on where it is you’re heading. What separates a stairway from a hallway is the destination. Elevation is an inherent piece of a set of stair’s destination. The same can’t be said for a hallway. I don’t mean to subscribe religious subtext to something as trivial as a set of stairs, but it has occurred to me that there is a certain heaven and hell quality you could attach to my stairwell. From my perspective, the act of climbing up the stairs is often inherently pleasant. As Malala Yousafszai says, “If you go anywhere, even paradise, you will miss your home.” In Bellingham, my dorm room is the closest thing to a home I have. While ascending the stairwell you are consciously aware that you will soon be back in your own room, where you feel like you have control. There are fewer variables at play in your personal space, and there’s less of a random element as a result. Going downstairs is quite the opposite, as you find yourself filled with a nervous anticipation for the day directly in front of you. It’s a bit hyperbolic to compare dorm rooms and the outdoors with heaven and hell, but I think the analogy works. Mark Twain once said to “Go to heaven for the climate, hell for the company”. Though this quote’s intention is comedic, in this particular instance, its sentiment rings true. I am much more likely to encounter others if I venture downstairs. I wouldn’t call that hell, but it can be intimidating. Going back to aesthetics, nothing in the stairwell really fuels the secure feeling I get when I’m headed to my room, which is a shame. It would be nice if the journey upstairs improved the good moods associated with them. However, the stairwell’s appearance does fit the feeling of contemplation I get when I’m on my way outside. Given the lack of visual stimulation on the stairs, your own thoughts really dominate the environment. The acoustics of the stairwell can be a little odd. Even the smallest noise will produce an echo. Ahna Cushing, a student from the second floor of my building, said to me that; “The echoing quality kind of freaks me out. It reminds me of a prison”. While it can certainly be off-putting, this quality can also be helpful as you’re sure to hear if there are others behind or ahead of you. The echo also suits the stair’s contemplative atmosphere. It sort of feels like you’re in a vacuum, alone with your thoughts.
As a means of transportation, the stairwell in my building works as expected. Regardless of direction, it is very easy to navigate. More interestingly, as an environment which reflects the feeling of the moment, it’s halfway there. The stairwell’s atmosphere perfectly reflects the innate anxiety and contemplation that comes with heading towards the lower floors. If only the same were true when ascending the stairs.
