Love ‘em or Hate ‘em: Inked Art on Bodies

This past weekend, Union Station hosted the Divine Intervention Tattoo Convention. (Don’t you love that catchy title?) So Friday, while taking my frequent sans-Cutest-stroll through the station, what should capture my wandering eyes but a huge canvass strung above the clock at the Grand Hall entrance. Stretched between the arches, this banner positively dared me to enter and explore the shrouded, weird, frightening and secretive world of tattoos.  That was my perception anyway.

I am a product of the middle-class Baby Boomer generation. I have owned two non-

scary Honda motorcycles, less than 150cc, was an anti-war protester while in college, and then was drafted into the army. None of these actions in the 1960s inspired me to get a tattoo. I have a great respect/fear of needles and have never had a desire to purposely inflict pain on my body.And yet here I am about to enter this carnival of (what I took to be) misfits and mystery.

First, the tattooists. At this gathering, they were mostly men. Skinny guys, fat guys, pro football looking guys, even an occasional bank teller type guy. However, all were uniquely, and fully, covered in ink art.

And it is art. The detail and the shading would get props from Norman Rockwell. These are not your daddy’s-just-got-home-from-war tattoos. Mystical themes, intricate landscapes, almost lifelike portraits were only a drip in the bucket of subjects chosen to be inked on to one's body.

These were friendly folks. They smiled, they chatted, they posed for photos. I’ve had odder reactions from a class of fifth graders. And they gave me candy, key chains, stickers and more candy.

At the end of the day, chewing on a gifted Tootsie Roll, I sat on one of the nearby benches and reflected on what I had just experienced. One, to coin a phrase, you can never tell a book by its cover - or a person by their tattoo. And two, don’t ever be afraid to try new things. I am still tattooless Yand plan on remaining so. But if others wish to be a human canvas, so be it.  I’ve at least learned not to gawk in dismay.

(You can see some of what I saw by clicking through the slide show below.)