Beauty in the Skibidi toilet: Brainrot is modern art about the beginning of the end

Image via CNN

Across popular social media platforms, it seems there has been a widespread cultural shift towards absurdism, through what is both fearfully and affectionately referred to as “brainrot.” Named word of the year by Oxford in 2024, brainrot means “the supposed deterioration of a person’s mental or intellectual state, especially viewed as the result of overconsumption of material considered to be trivial or unchallenging.”

This year, many of us have become familiar with circulating iterations of TikTok video series like Skibidi Toilet, AI-generated Italian brainrot images like Ballerina Cappuccina and of course, Dictionary.com’s word of the year for 2025, “6-7.” The term brainrot was first recorded in 1854, part of Henry David Thoreau’s “Walden,” describing the societal tendency to oversimplify. In the work, Thoreau asks his audience, “Why level downward to our dullest perception always, and praise that as common sense?”

To answer that question is to affirm the sentiment that brainrot is the dullest form of perception, which I reject. In my eyes, memes and brainrot are both artistic and highly political.

Take Skibidi Toilet, for example. Skibidi Toilet follows a group of mobile toilets, each with a head poking out of its bowl, smiling and singing in something of a scat. The toilets are invaders of a dark, dystopian city run by a group of opponents: humanoids in uniform whose heads are security cameras, armed with guns. The toilets defeat their enemies by transforming them into more silly, singing toilets, a form of conflict resolution that, while ridiculous, poses a fascinating and seemingly deliberate philososphical discussion to the audience.

The dystopian opponents, with human bodies and increasingly intimidating machine heads, suffer in a place where the mind is stripped of its essence, reduced to industrial productivity. Their force is overt, authoritarian and violent, seeming to represent a view of the current political state of our world. The Skibidi toilets have human minds, creativity and nonviolent power, which at first seems chaotic but hopeful. However, being toilets, their bodies are reduced to a place of waste. They are socially free, but physically reduced to squalor. It’s progressive, but somehow disgusting nonetheless.

This fictional conflict between forces seems to represent one that is real and current, between opposing political pulls. It hosts a thoughtful critique of both sides, and the kicker is: regardless of which side wins, an uninhabitable wasteland awaits. The narrative’s political relevance being presented in a medium with such an overall absurdity seems to reflect a view that the real-world violence brought on by our politics, in and of itself, is just as absurd, strange and disgusting as a human security camera fighting a human toilet.

Surrealism and Dada, two revolutionary art forms of the 20th century, also arose during times of mass chaos and death, much like today. The central message is a mockery of the pointlessness of politics and society, arguing: “Dada has no meaning.” 

One of the first establishing Dada works is “Fountain” (1917) by Marcel Duchamp, a readymade piece displayed in response to the seemingly meaningless political violence of World War I. The titular “Fountain,” which Duchamp presented as a statue, was a factory standard toilet, turned upside down and signed. Art was something seen to have great societal value during that time, and presenting something so banal presented in such a formal place was seen as both revolutionary and repulsive. In the long run, it changed how society talked about art, by asking what can even be considered as art. Even today, the answer is still hotly debated.

A Surrealist readymade that makes a similar statement is “Lobster Telephone” (1938) by Salvador Dalí. The piece is composed of two simple objects: a plaster lobster mounted on top of a fully functional wired telephone. The work does not concern itself with artistic craftsmanship, but rather the combination of two highly unlikely existing elements together into a singular aesthetic. It is explained to be sexual, but looking at the work itself feels uncomfortable, slimy, and grotesque.

These artworks present no solution, no optimism in the face of violence and confusion. They respond to the world around them, rather aggressively, by deliberately not making any sense. In turn, their discussions were pessimistic and quite nihilist, much like brainrot.

Essayist Gautam Deka concedes: “What we must realize is that brainrot is a reflection of a rotting world, it is a self-deprecating protest against the absurdity of the times we live in and most of all, an intoxicating escape from the depressing industrial wasteland out there.”

The popularization of shortform content is well-known to have an impact on the declines of literacy, attention span, working memory capacity and mental health. The World Health Organization now includes Internet use-disorder as a behavioral addiction in the International Classification of Diseases 11th Revision (ICD-11).

The intent of Surrealism and Dada was to reflect the grotesqueness of politics back onto society, forcing viewers into a state of suffocation, disgust and dark humor. The centerpiece of the Dada Manifesto echoes this: “Try to be empty and fill your brain cells with a petty happiness.” Even through its own name, brainrot recursively acknowledges itself of its own empty humor and its own part in the decline of intellectualism.

As an iterative media form where users appropriate the same concept for different purposes, memes and internet trends have the power to reveal the shared sentiments of entire populations.

Rapper Skrilla of “Doot Doot,” the song whose lyrics originated the meme “6-7,” explained in an interview with Wall Street Journal, "I never put an actual meaning on it, and I still would not want to… That’s why everybody keeps saying it."

The sheer significance of “6-7” feels surprisingly telling, as a meme that means virtually nothing but can be applied to so many situations. Its lighthearted absurdity denotes a general uncertainty, exhaust and reductive dismissal of its context, which on a larger scale, reflects a similar weary worldview shared by many of its audiences. 

In times of turbulent change, it feels natural to turn to expressions of absurdity and nihilism to reflect confusion and concern about one’s surroundings. Brainrot is just one extension of this, and it’s depressing, hilarious and political all at the same time. It’s often thoughtfully crafted, and it’s a self-referential reminder that so much is wrong with the world. But it promotes thoughtlessness and hopeless passivity as the only escape. We must acknowledge this truth because the next step is change.

Thoreau scholar and University of Mississippi professor Cristin Ellis observed, “[Thoreau’s] point is whether or not things are worse now than they were, our task at all times is the same: to try our hardest to commit ourselves to the things that matter most in our brief and miraculous lives.

“Devote your attention to what you know, in your heart of hearts, really matters: meaning, beauty, love, wonder, and gratitude for this earth.”

It is easy to lose faith in humanity and intellect as a result of the societal changes we’re facing. Regardless of our current state, it’s important to be passionate and stay vigilant for the sake of the things and people we care about. To remember the power of intelligece, in even the unlikeliest times and places. We must use this power to imagine a future we can hope for instead of a future we fear.

And of course, to go touch some grass.