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First Person Singular
By Christina Ianzito
When people ask me what I do for a living, I often reply, "I don't make mistakes." There is no eraser on my machine. I only produce tattoos that have been thought out. We do alter the body physically and with that you have to be prepared for the psychological alterations, too. They do come. I recently started on my wife's first tattoo. It's a life-size peacock, photo-realistic, on her back, from her left shoulder down over her right hip, and then down to about half the thigh with the tail feathers. Well, she's married to a tattoo artist -- what do you expect? It's practical anthropology, that's what it is. You see every walk of life. I have a very prominent female lawyer who has modern tribal swirls and stripes on the back of her right hand, on her left shoulder down to her left elbow, on her left calf, on her ankles and knees, and she sports it every day at the office, but she's a strong woman. She walks into a room, she has presence. I don't have a problem putting that kind of tattoo on that kind of person, because they can carry it. There are tattoos, and there are tattoos. There are tattoos for, "Look, I've got a tattoo." And there are tattoos for, "This is my tattoo," and it applies to that person. It can be a very empowering situation once you realize that you can alter the rigid structure of your body; you can physically change it, you can modify it to be what you want it to be. It gives you a sense of self-ownership. Mr. Lawyer, Mr. Banker, Mr. Merchant Banker who's got the BMW motorcycle, he's got the Mercedes convertible, he's got the beach house. And so have all his friends. What can he get that they haven't got? Come to me. Five thousand dollars: We've got a full back piece that's completely unique and will never be replicated anywhere. You are a walking, breathing, living piece of art.
© 2001 The Washington Post Company
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