Tuesday, January 18, 2011

on body art

I'm afraid I just don't get tattoos. And I don't understand why so many people seem to want them on so many parts of their bodies. I'm not talking about the little heart or celtic antiquary discreetly placed. Nor even the ubiquitous t-bar that graces the lower back of so many young women.

I do mean, however, the labrinthyne spawl across the forearm. The names of children etched in gothic font upon the thigh or ankle. The huge floral arrangement upon the neck or fantastical creature flung onto the back. Or single letters across the fingers in menacing procession, spelling, often as not, an expletive. And how about ridiculous slogans or sayings like 'such is life' about the upper chest? Well, how about them?

Really, when you start seriously and permanently doodling on you body, it seems to me that you are essentially just giving the big finger to your skin. It's like saying "You may be the biggest organ on or in my body but I hate you anyway and I'm going to scribble ugly, amateurish grafitti all over you. So there."

The very least these folk could do is hire an exterior designer, someone to organise the bits into a visually congruent whole. Ten different directors never did make a coherent movie, after all.

Of course, I don't understand any of this and it's none of my business anyway. But I'd like an explanation just the same.

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