When I was a kid I thought it would be pretty cool to have a tattoo. A couple of my uncles had tattoos, a naked lady and a black panther among them, and I was always kind of fascinated by them. They were older tats and kind of blotty in areas, the lines starting to break apart a bit. But I still thought they were sort of cool.
When we moved in 1972 and I started junior high school in Elmira, a more urban setting than I had come from, I was exposed for the first time to the homemade tattoos that some of the rougher kids wore. They were made by taking a pin or needle , wrapping it with thread and dipping it ink. The thread would absorb the ink and would would deposit it under the skin as they poked their designs with the needle. They were pretty crude. A lot of crooked initials and “Mom”‘s . “LOVE ” and “HATE” on the knuckles- that kind of thing. I was still fascinated but more in a “why the hell would you do that?” sort of way.
Years passed and I found myself working at Perkins Restaurant as a waiter. When I first started I worked the overnight shifts, which were, for the most part, the province of the drunk and alienated. There were a lot of young adults who would come in and sit for hours, drinking coffee and smoking ( you could do that still) with no place else to go. I came to know several of them and they liked me because I treated them well and listened to what they had to say.
There was one guy who wanted to be a tattoo artist. Tattoos were gaining popularity and you were starting to see them more and more. He had bought some equipment and was practicing on himself. He would come in and pull up his pant leg, showing me his calf. It was covered in scrawls of unsure lines and letters and shapes. It was awful, reminding me of the homemade tats from junior high. I asked if there wasn’t a better way to practice, maybe an orange or something? He said there was nothing like using the real thing.
Over the years, I have seen some great tattoos and am always amazed that these people are so sure of who they are now and who they will be in the future. As I’ve aged my view of the world is always changing, evolving with new knowledge and insights. I would hate to have an emblem of who I was at age 18 emblazoned on my body for all to see. It would be like being doomed to wearing a KISS ARMY t-shirt for eternity.
Tattoos have always been viewed as symbols of individualism, something that sets one apart from the crowd. But as they become more and more popular, I’ve started to view them more as symbols of conformity. It’s become so common that there I find myself less and less fascinated when I see one. I still appreciate a well done tattoo that is composed well and executed with great care and really says something about its owner but I get a feeling from so many of them that it simply means that they are part of the crowd. Almost as though they are being used to make the wearer blend in rather than stand out.
So, I don’t have any tattoos and will never do so. It would feel too much like conforming…
Redtree Times 
As a folk art specialist, I’ve thought about tattoos for a long time. Every year I make my summer pilgrimage to Water Safari in Old Forge ostensibly to take the kids swimming but in reality to take in an amazing exhibition of wearable art. The range of styles and quality is remarkable and easily viewable given the acrage of exposed flesh. I only wish I had a digital camera and alot of nerve to ask people if I could photograph their tats.
One thing is certain, however; tattoos have always been more a symbol of conformity than not. They signify membership in elite subcultures in most socities, from Japanese firemen to South Pacific and American Indian warriors. Only in our society do they signify youthful rebellion, and even that is debatable as you have shown.
I agree with you that it would be ridiculous to carry an emblem of youthful indiscretion with you for life. The only thing I have from my high school years that I would still wear is my denim jacket with the hand painted Rolling Stones logo on the back. and even that is now a well recognized corporate symbol. It is fun to gawk at the indiscretions of others, which seems to be another national obsession.
Speaking of elite subcultures, the only tattoo I was ever tempted to get was our unofficial unit tat. Since we called in a bad day (very bad) on people, the design was a simple lightning bolt with the words “Hard Rain.”
But I never got that drunk.
There are always caveats to these posts.
I was speaking mainly about tats in modern American culture and didn’t really take into account elite subcultures where they signify status or achievement. I really admire the tattoos of such cultures. That still doesn’t mean the guy behind the counter at the convenience store is really a Polynesian warrior just because he has a warrior’s tats.
The other facet I left out of this observation are service tats which I consider most fitting. There is usually a real story and memory behind most of them.
That would have been a very cool tat, Dave…