Intense black marks contrast with the delicate skin on the face of a young girl from a southern African tribe. The design of the tattoo arranges three straight lines in a fan formation extending from the bridge of her nose up to her hairline. Her expression is calm and assured, with the hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. What struck me most about the image was the affinity I felt with the girl. I identified with her as an eight-year old, the age at which I first saw her photograph. Using a finger to trace the inked lines on my own skin, I recognized a desire for involvement: learning, designing, applying, and receiving.
Tattoos are a truly inclusive form of permanent self-expression. While they resemble those found in clothing or makeup, they are less tied to our physicality; no one is restricted from getting tattoos, not fat people, nor people with disabilities, not people of color, nor queer people. Tattoos empower our physical form; they are designed for our bodies, exactly as we are in the present moment. To that end, tattoos prove one of the most accessible forms of art, next to music and graffiti. A symbol of the punk movement and general teen rebellion, tattoos are available across socio-economic levels. For those interested, the cost to participate is much lower than that of traditionally classical, largely Euro-centric art forms.
The artistic expression of tattoo is not limited to the product of ink on skin, but can also be found in the shared authorship and momentary relationship between artist and recipient, the contact of needle on flesh, and the exploration of controlled pain. The act of getting a tattoo is in itself a performance. Many with tattoos find both the process and the product to be grounding in its relative permanence. While coping with the world’s ephemerality can be difficult, comfort can be found in those items that withstand time, things that are guaranteed to last just as long as you do. That said, tattoos are not stagnant; they fade and morph with the body, providing a map of one’s journey, rather than simply recording one moment in time.
Tattoos grant the ability to reclaim our bodies. We have little control over what we look like, leading many to feel a deep disconnect between their physical appearance and who they feel themselves to be. This dichotomy is especially prevalent in queer people, people of color, transgender, nonbinary, genderfluid, gender queer, agender, and gender non-conforming people, and those with physical or gender-based dysmorphia. Receiving a tattoo can prove a transformative experience, allowing one to embrace and present oneself authentically. Rather than seeing in the mirror all the things that you do not identify with, reflected instead is the beautiful artwork that has become a part of you (or maybe was already). This artwork empowers
us to reclaim ourselves every day--even if we are the only ones who can see them––and to appreciate our physical forms for what they are.
Within many indigenous cultures, tattoos and other bodily mark-making practices function to indicate one’s family heritage, role in their community, or an adolescent’s coming-of-age. Even across cultural lines tattoos make room for connection, such as that between myself and the African girl from the picture. I found the photograph on a shelf in my living room, nestled within the pages of Maarten Hesselt Van Dinter’s The World of Tattoo: An Illustrated History. The book documents hundreds of different traditional practices--one of the first comprehensive historical records of the art form. About a year and a half ago I began actively participating in tattoo as an art form. I have now given over two dozen hand-poke tattoos and designed countless more. Not only do tattoos act as distinguishing marks, setting an individual aside from a group, but they prove a powerful unifier.
Tattoos are a truly inclusive form of permanent self-expression. While they resemble those found in clothing or makeup, they are less tied to our physicality; no one is restricted from getting tattoos, not fat people, nor people with disabilities, not people of color, nor queer people. Tattoos empower our physical form; they are designed for our bodies, exactly as we are in the present moment. To that end, tattoos prove one of the most accessible forms of art, next to music and graffiti. A symbol of the punk movement and general teen rebellion, tattoos are available across socio-economic levels. For those interested, the cost to participate is much lower than that of traditionally classical, largely Euro-centric art forms.
The artistic expression of tattoo is not limited to the product of ink on skin, but can also be found in the shared authorship and momentary relationship between artist and recipient, the contact of needle on flesh, and the exploration of controlled pain. The act of getting a tattoo is in itself a performance. Many with tattoos find both the process and the product to be grounding in its relative permanence. While coping with the world’s ephemerality can be difficult, comfort can be found in those items that withstand time, things that are guaranteed to last just as long as you do. That said, tattoos are not stagnant; they fade and morph with the body, providing a map of one’s journey, rather than simply recording one moment in time.
Tattoos grant the ability to reclaim our bodies. We have little control over what we look like, leading many to feel a deep disconnect between their physical appearance and who they feel themselves to be. This dichotomy is especially prevalent in queer people, people of color, transgender, nonbinary, genderfluid, gender queer, agender, and gender non-conforming people, and those with physical or gender-based dysmorphia. Receiving a tattoo can prove a transformative experience, allowing one to embrace and present oneself authentically. Rather than seeing in the mirror all the things that you do not identify with, reflected instead is the beautiful artwork that has become a part of you (or maybe was already). This artwork empowers
us to reclaim ourselves every day--even if we are the only ones who can see them––and to appreciate our physical forms for what they are.
Within many indigenous cultures, tattoos and other bodily mark-making practices function to indicate one’s family heritage, role in their community, or an adolescent’s coming-of-age. Even across cultural lines tattoos make room for connection, such as that between myself and the African girl from the picture. I found the photograph on a shelf in my living room, nestled within the pages of Maarten Hesselt Van Dinter’s The World of Tattoo: An Illustrated History. The book documents hundreds of different traditional practices--one of the first comprehensive historical records of the art form. About a year and a half ago I began actively participating in tattoo as an art form. I have now given over two dozen hand-poke tattoos and designed countless more. Not only do tattoos act as distinguishing marks, setting an individual aside from a group, but they prove a powerful unifier.