We’ve had a couple of weeks of babies coming into the tattoo
shop. To this anecdotalist, the trend seems blog-worthy, especially so since
the Arsenal — artists and clientele, all — started working to educate the
municipal intelligentsia about the banality of tattooing; that is, tattoos are
NOT synonymous with deviant behaviors and are actually sported by folks from
all walks of life.
We can figure that body art has been around since mankind
learned to doodle. At minimum, discoveries of tattooed-mummies place the
practice at least as far back as 3000 BCE. In places all around the world, it
charted its own use and acceptance. In our blessed home of milk and honey, we
credit the “seedier set” for eliciting tattooing’s popularity in the early part
of the twentieth century, “America’s Century” it’s called. Those daring enough
to dedicate their skins of canvas and let the world know about it were criminals
and gangsters, circus performers, and (gasp!) gay sailors. The practice has
grown, and tattooing has become a legitimate profession now governed by all
society’s attendant rules and regulations. Tattoos have made it to the big
time. Mainstream.
It follows, then, that a trip to the tattoo shop isn’t any
more remarkable than going to the post office or salon — another errand of
many, so why wouldn’t the kids come along? In recent memory, we’ve had one
newborn drop in and about a half-dozen other little ones experiencing their
first year of life; we’ve worked with a middle-schooler seeking guidance on a
summer art project and reveled in the acquisition of a new phone for one of our
favorite young teenagers. And there’s a darlin’ set of sisters who rarely get
away without some (stencil) ink of their own.
These scenes have been playing out at the Arsenal since Cliff
can remember. Toddlers who stole our hearts years ago are now going off to
college and the workaday world. Nearly all of them stop by to say hello, more
than a handful proclaiming they “practically grew up in the tattoo shop.” It’s
a communal locale, to be sure, where repeat customers turn into family and
one’s just as likely to get a hug around the neck as a handshake.
So here’s to the next generation! — those who continue to better
our world. Each successive generation smarter and savvier than the last; each
more creative, inclusive, and empathic. (Hmph! That’ll be something to remember
when Aggieland is inundated with young drivers new to town!)
