Since getting a tattoo, I have had this weird obsession with other peoples’ tattoos. I want to know where they got them, what they are, and what they mean to the person. It’s another form of branding, labeling, and defining ourselves, I suppose. It’s a semi-addictive habit that “hurts so good.” It’s fulfilling a need to be understood, or to understand oneself by marking one’s body. It’s an expression of artistic license and flair, and also a reminder to self of value, worth, and experience. I have a craving to realize the humanity in everything, and to try and understand where people have come from, who they are, and where they want to go in life. Inking things on our bodies, I believe, originates from some desire to show ourselves to the world, but then keep that experience close to us, on our bodies, ingrained within our cells, and permanently on our skins. It’s something that isn’t easily taken away, when other things in life are. It’s a small indication of permanence in this ephemeral world, and a kind of ink that goes much deeper than what others can possibly see.
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Really loved this one, Phillipa. I, too, have this obsession with admiring other peoples' ink, and I have this weird idea that I would love to compile a book of people's tattoo stories someday.
ReplyDeletelove it.
ReplyDeleteyep, i'm keeping tabs with your blog :)