I grew up in an era when tattoos were basically verboten; at least they were severely frowned on in polite company. The only way anyone of my acquaintance had tattoos was if they had been in the Navy or in prison. Body art was totally looked down on. So you can imagine my surprise when it became mainstream. And it is not just younger people who are utilizing these services.
With the increase in tattooing, there has been a corresponding increase in the quality of tattoos that are available. Competition among professional tattoo artists today is to do the best job, to show the world that you can be counted on to produce a quality product. And to do it with clean needles and good quality ink, of course.
There are specialists who volunteer their time to alter tattoos the client has become ashamed of, such as white supremacy symbols, to turn them into angels or other equally pleasant and inoffensive symbols. Some use tattoos to aid in adjustments to body issues, such as decorating a mastectomy scar and the surrounding area with the beauty of a well considered image—something meaningful to the recipient. Some do not decorate so much as tattoo an image of the nipple that was surgically removed. These all strike me as incredibly therapeutic.
Tattooing is no longer the result of someone’s poor decision making while drunk and in a blackout. (Or at least that is how people explained bad tattoos back in the day.)
I still don’t have any tattoos and probably never will. But that is no longer out of an aversion to the practice. So many years have passed without my body being inked, and I have dealt with enough bodily changes as it is. But my attitude toward others getting them has changed dramatically. Sometimes clients explain to me the significance of their tattoos and it helps me to better understand their situation.
And sometimes I just enjoy good art, whatever the canvas.
Here is what came as a shocker: For some individuals, these tattoos have a dual purpose. The pain involved in the tattooing process sometimes satisfies the desire a person might have to cut or otherwise self-injure. Who’d a’ thunk it? It it socially accepted, no one labels you crazy, and you get to choose a nice design and decide where you want it on your body—sort of a permanent monument to overcoming your emotional suffering.
Note that I am not taking a stand on this; it’s just an observation. But it does seem to help some people avoid self-injury.
Now if only we can have a world with so little emotional pain that there is no temptation to inflict physical pain on oneself for relief. If we can have a world in which people only get tattoos because they are eager to use their bodies as a canvas, to display their most meaningful art.