I watched “My tattoo addiction” on Channel 4 last Thursday night and I have to state that I was bewildered enough by the viewing spectacle to take to my keyboard and record my thoughts.
The programme, one of a series of three episodes, followed a variety of individuals that in effect use (or in my view abuse) their bodies to collect tattoos. Most of the characters looked scary, or ridiculous, or both; some were drunken revellers in foreign holiday resorts.
Every so often I watch something that gets me thinking that I must exist in a different reality because I just can’t relate to what I am seeing. My Tattoo Addiction was one of those slightly surreal viewing experiences.
To set the scene:
1) My body is free from ink and whilst there was a time in my teens when I was half tempted to indulge, I am bloody glad that I didn’t.
2) I grew up in a time when tats were still considered the sole preserve of blokes, the lower classes, the military, rebellious types or thugs/gangsters – you didn’t see them on girls, you didn’t see them on wimps and you didn’t see them on your parents.
3) I don’t really like tattoos although I genuinely don’t have a problem with people having one or two.
4) I concede that tattoos suit some people better than others – one geezer springs to mind, Swindon Steve’s a stocky, larger than life, gregarious fellow with an absolute sense of self belief and a view that occasional fisticuffs/ argy bargee is a perfectly acceptable source of entertainment. He has a sleeve of tattoos and they don’t look out of place.
So, with this emotional baggage, I watched the documentary with a view to expanding my horizons but with a few exceptions, and I’ll come to those at the end of this piece, I finished watching and felt like a grumpy old man. My views: the tattoo industry needs European regulation; idiots that barrel up to tattoo parlours drunk should be turned away, or the tattooists subject to legal proceedings; the medical profession should be investigating the long term effects of all the ink being applied to skin; people that want their faces tattooed should have to have independent counselling first and have to provide written evidence to the tattooist that it has been received.
The title for the series is the giveaway because the word ‘addiction’ is what makes for the challenging viewing. Still, I suppose if the title was “tattoos in moderation”, the documentary would be dull and/or unwatchable.
The characters being tattooed were getting large areas of their bodies covered (one chap, his whole face) in ‘art’ and, with scant regard for their appearances, were still planning on more.
I understand collecting behaviour well (in fact I have a number of collections of things that would make for decent museum type displays) but I don’t get how people can collect body art that is permanent. If I get bored of authors, bands, 70’s stuff, Seiko watches, Matchbox cars (or just need some money), I can move collections on – there’s just no stepping back from extensive tattooing.
Over the last decade or so, tats have gone from the side lines to the mainstream and these days on a beach or in the pool, as many people (male and female) have them as don’t. What’s more tats used to appear on biceps and forearms but now appear everywhere on the body. Celebrities and sportspeople like David Beckham and Lewis Hamilton have tattoo sleeves and that’s a shame because youngsters think tattoos are cool because their idols have them.
The advice I’ll give my kids:
The documentary maker’s did interview some interesting characters and managed to introduce some genuine human interest angles that enhanced the viewing experience – a 28 year old women in the body of a nine year old child who wanted to have a tattoo to help her evidence her real age; and a lady in her forties who had a double mastectomy, followed by reconstructive surgery and then had nipples tattooed on to her new breasts. For this people, tattoos helped them to have more normal lives and were something to be applauded. These people though defied the documentary’s title because they weren’t tattoo addicts, they were ‘ordinary’.
On the bright side, at least tattoo addiction is safer than drug addiction; and hopefully, whilst tattoo addiction will cost the owner a pretty penny, the ink addicts don’t fund their habits by thieving and mugging the innocent.
If you didn’t watch the programme, visit 4OD or catch one of the inevitable repeats.
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The programme, one of a series of three episodes, followed a variety of individuals that in effect use (or in my view abuse) their bodies to collect tattoos. Most of the characters looked scary, or ridiculous, or both; some were drunken revellers in foreign holiday resorts.
Every so often I watch something that gets me thinking that I must exist in a different reality because I just can’t relate to what I am seeing. My Tattoo Addiction was one of those slightly surreal viewing experiences.
To set the scene:
1) My body is free from ink and whilst there was a time in my teens when I was half tempted to indulge, I am bloody glad that I didn’t.
2) I grew up in a time when tats were still considered the sole preserve of blokes, the lower classes, the military, rebellious types or thugs/gangsters – you didn’t see them on girls, you didn’t see them on wimps and you didn’t see them on your parents.
3) I don’t really like tattoos although I genuinely don’t have a problem with people having one or two.
4) I concede that tattoos suit some people better than others – one geezer springs to mind, Swindon Steve’s a stocky, larger than life, gregarious fellow with an absolute sense of self belief and a view that occasional fisticuffs/ argy bargee is a perfectly acceptable source of entertainment. He has a sleeve of tattoos and they don’t look out of place.
So, with this emotional baggage, I watched the documentary with a view to expanding my horizons but with a few exceptions, and I’ll come to those at the end of this piece, I finished watching and felt like a grumpy old man. My views: the tattoo industry needs European regulation; idiots that barrel up to tattoo parlours drunk should be turned away, or the tattooists subject to legal proceedings; the medical profession should be investigating the long term effects of all the ink being applied to skin; people that want their faces tattooed should have to have independent counselling first and have to provide written evidence to the tattooist that it has been received.
The title for the series is the giveaway because the word ‘addiction’ is what makes for the challenging viewing. Still, I suppose if the title was “tattoos in moderation”, the documentary would be dull and/or unwatchable.
The characters being tattooed were getting large areas of their bodies covered (one chap, his whole face) in ‘art’ and, with scant regard for their appearances, were still planning on more.
I understand collecting behaviour well (in fact I have a number of collections of things that would make for decent museum type displays) but I don’t get how people can collect body art that is permanent. If I get bored of authors, bands, 70’s stuff, Seiko watches, Matchbox cars (or just need some money), I can move collections on – there’s just no stepping back from extensive tattooing.
Over the last decade or so, tats have gone from the side lines to the mainstream and these days on a beach or in the pool, as many people (male and female) have them as don’t. What’s more tats used to appear on biceps and forearms but now appear everywhere on the body. Celebrities and sportspeople like David Beckham and Lewis Hamilton have tattoo sleeves and that’s a shame because youngsters think tattoos are cool because their idols have them.
The advice I’ll give my kids:
- If you are going to get a tattoo, you should give it plenty of thought beforehand, chat it through with someone who will challenge you. How can you choose something as a teenager that you can be confident will still suit you as a forty/fifty/sixty/seventy something? I bet that most adults wouldn’t be seen dead in the clothing they used to wear as teenagers and yet a tattoo they thought appropriate at 18 will still be on their body at 48.
- I’ll also share this story with them – when I was in my early twenties, I knew this old man who had a navy tattoo on his forearm. To me it looked like a black aubergine, the old boy actually had to stretch his skin to try and make it clearer what this black mass actually was and still I couldn’t have guessed. I appreciate that modern inks and tattooing techniques are far advanced but the human body still ages in the same way.
- As you age – you will probably gain weight, you will get wrinkles, your body will change shape and your muscle mass will decrease – how good will your tattoos look then?
The documentary maker’s did interview some interesting characters and managed to introduce some genuine human interest angles that enhanced the viewing experience – a 28 year old women in the body of a nine year old child who wanted to have a tattoo to help her evidence her real age; and a lady in her forties who had a double mastectomy, followed by reconstructive surgery and then had nipples tattooed on to her new breasts. For this people, tattoos helped them to have more normal lives and were something to be applauded. These people though defied the documentary’s title because they weren’t tattoo addicts, they were ‘ordinary’.
On the bright side, at least tattoo addiction is safer than drug addiction; and hopefully, whilst tattoo addiction will cost the owner a pretty penny, the ink addicts don’t fund their habits by thieving and mugging the innocent.
If you didn’t watch the programme, visit 4OD or catch one of the inevitable repeats.
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