Yesterday I
made a trip to get the first stages of a thigh tattoo started, and I thought I’d
share the to date photos as a memory of what it’s like at the end of the first
session. I get the shading and colouring finished in about four weeks time and
I am already pretty excited! I already have a small piece, but it was something
I did without planning about 7 years back. This is the first piece I’ve had
done with lots of planning and with a tattoo artist I respect and who came
super highly recommended (for anyone in Yorkshire it’s Gareth from Black CrownTattoo, a studio which literally came recommended from pretty much every
tattooed person I know!).
I chose to
have my thigh tattooed because it’s maybe one of the fattest parts of me, and
it’s a part of me that I’ve always felt strong and powerful in. I remember
hating being stocky when I was growing up, having a bit of a hockey players
build which was impossible to clothe. I’ve always been clumsy too, which has
resulted in more bangs, bruises and scabs than I care to recall. It’s funny now
actually, I seem to not even notice the bumps and surprise myself with a new
bump regularly. I can’t even articulate how uncomfortable I felt growing up
like this – I grew up in a very middle class area (albeit in a housing estate
in the area in a working class family), and I used to feel like these marks
betrayed me – they made me conscious of my inability to fit places, of my need
to work in manual labour jobs where my friends didn’t. I never really stood a
chance of having an unmarked body. Now I’m proud of my shape, the way I’m
taller than most women and built to take up space. I like that I’m stocky, that
I’m strong and powerfully built, and however that resonates with my family of
similarly built bodies. I’m not traditionally feminine, but I employ femininity
anyway (as well as masculinity sometimes too), on my own terms. I wear dresses
with my bruises and bumps, on my body that I’m supposed to cover up in the
interest of the general public.
Being
tattooed is embodied art, and where you have pieces factors into your
experience of that piece. I’ve written before about the politics of having a “marked
body”, but mainly from the perspective of being fat and having stretchmarks,
scars, lumps and bumps etc. I know that tattooing is fairly mainstream now,
however, I still feel it’s transgressive because it rails against the logic
that (particularly as women) we should be clean, unmarked, chasing after youth
and the innocence that a completely unmarked body (hairless, bruiseless,
smooth, without bruises or scars or marks of any kind) seems to suggest. I
chose to get a sewing machine tattooed on me because it’s a part of my history –
working class crafting, making something out of no or few resources, and body
acceptance too, which is what started me making clothes regularly again.
Choosing a personal facet of my history and having it inscribed on me
acknowledges that my history has shaped me, my body and my experience of it.
(Also, it’s
just beautiful!)
It was a
really empowering experience – I didn’t really expect that actually. I knew
that I felt strong enough to deal with the pain, but I was nervous that I would
be a wimp throughout, that I’d need to stop or wouldn’t go back for the second
half. I was surprised at how easily I dealt with it, at how strong I am when I
need to be. I’ve been through things, and they’ve shaped me in a way which
makes me strong and tough in moments like this, and that in itself is awesome.
Roll on shading and four weeks time!
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