An index of Oberlin basements
by Lily Nobel
Illustration by Maud Arpels
You’ve seen the, uh, art installation or prank (or whatever it is) in the basement of Hales Gymnasium, behind the first or second door you see after coming down the stairs. You might stumble upon it if you go looking for a bathroom between the opener and main act at a show at the Cat. I’m not going to describe it here, because you should go look for it yourself. The Oberlin basement is a very minor invitation to adventure.
A summary of Oberlin basements:
The Warner basement has a crimson couch facing the wall so no one could sit on it, a room labeled the Puppet Room.
The Mudd basement — or “A-Level” — has the Career Exploration and Development Center, equally unsettling. It used to contain an on-campus Apple Store.
The Rice basement houses the Africana Studies department.
The Peters basement houses the East Asian Studies department. Also, in the big stall in one of the bathrooms, there are two plastic chairs (the kind used for temporary event set up) positioned around the toilet, in case someone brings an audience to watch them shit, I guess.
In the residence halls, many basements have spaces with a common function — laundry rooms, music practice rooms, etc.
Many of the village houses have compact basements containing piping and other infrastructure, and sometimes Facilities stores equipment and extra furniture in these areas.
German House basement is a circuit of tunnels and pipes.
This one person I talked to organized a couple of concerts and poetry readings in those tunnels their first and second year. They played their first concert with their band there, because they and their bandmate were first-years with no one to ask to host their show, no idea how to get booked. They set up some lights and it was “super cute and cool.” They climbed down through the hatch door with two guitars. About 40 people came, including a bunch of prospies. It ruled.
Another person I spoke to was ecstatic about the potential of the basement. He said two of the most fun shows his band had played were in basements, said they were, a BLAST! To him, contemporary basement shows revive the DIY energy of the LA punk scene, where hardcore bands played in basements and other improvised spaces because more legitimate venues wouldn’t have them, or the shows would be shut down by cops. He said basements were great because they were cozy, but also, by nature of the confined space, very, very loud. About as loud as you can get.
To him, part of the appeal of a basement event is:
“We aren’t supposed to be here, but we’re here.”
A statement from Matt Yunker, Director of Facilities Stewardship:
In houses (converted residential homes) and other residence halls where mechanical equipment is located, students are not permitted in the basement areas. These spaces contain essential mechanical systems, including piping and other building infrastructure, and in some cases are also used by Facilities for the storage of equipment and furnishings specific to that building. For safety and operational reasons, access to these areas is limited to authorized personnel only.
People say that the Facilities Department has doubled down on locking up basements in village houses and residence halls in the past year. The German House tunnels are no longer accessible, which some people blame on a party thrown by some first-years last year. The party was not as low-key as the concerts and poetry readings, and the vibe was really fucked up, and it ruined the tunnels for everybody.
What spaces are legitimate and illegitimate? In the Oberlin basement, utility clashes with celebration. Music can be played very, very loud, and the air can be very stuffy. Shit that wouldn’t otherwise have a place to go — whether that’s the cage filled with stick-based things (brooms, rocking horses, umbrellas) in the Warner basement, or a band playing their first ever concert — occupy the basement. The basement is subjective: when you feel adventurous, the basement is an adventure. When you feel pleasantly violent, in the way of hardcore, the basement is stifling ecstasy. When you are tired, or too high, the basement takes on the unrestrained tremor of a bad dream.
Someone else told me they had sex in the German House tunnels and woke up with their back stained green from copper oxide. The guy who talked about improvised spaces said that if you have a place with a basement, you should really think about throwing a party or hosting a show. The joy of a basement party is basically a public service.
So what can you expect from an Oberlin basement? You cannot always expect an adventure. The things living in basements on campus include several academic departments, the CED, and features that, though they do seem weird, like the set and prop storage under Warner, have a very regular purpose. But the unmistakable feeling of earth on all sides of you is shared by the basement both as a legitimate space and as an improvised space.
The basement invites the bizarre. It initiates a pressure of feeling. The basement, in its relative uncanniness, is a catalyst for the subjective. A plain room where pipes and extra furniture are kept becomes an artistic space, a space of elevated attention, and a space of danger. These factors feed into each other. And, by nature of the underground, the basement is subsumed by the rest of a building’s physical architecture. You navigate and negotiate the beat by beat of your terrestrial life, vast caverns without crystals beneath your feet.
