There's a new breed of cat in California. It's those new, 200-booth, blockbuster shows prowling the landscape and chewing up the competition. Instead of the traditional, cozy, flamboyant, talent-laden tattoo gatherings of yesteryear, fresh with the heady aroma of green soap, the turnstiles click off 20,000, 30,000 times, and the air reeks of caramel corn and beef jerky. No more diehard fans who travel a thousand miles for a peek at Jack Rudy, Paul Booth or Filip Leu. Instead the aisles are crammed with weekend hipsters and disinterested lookie-loos.

As you know, I'm not a big fan of gigantic events and added amenities. I don't even like the all-day rock bands that drown out any semblance of conversation. So, when I see airbrush tattoos, plastic samurai swords and rent-a-clowns making balloon poodles, all in the name of creating "an event for the whole family," it turns me off. Screw events for the whole family. I want world-class ink and an artist-friendly environment.

It's in the cards, big-budget super-shows are starting to flood the market and seriously affect gates at time-honored events. Most dedicated tattoo-artist promoters don't have the greenbacks or business acumen to combat these guys with their freeway billboards, high-priced radio spots and newspaper ads. Case in point, the 13th Annual Inkslingers Ball, which Fred Saunders and Gill "the Drill" Montie nurtured into the prime Southern California tattoo event of the year. As it turns out, with the ever-growing crop of super-events clogging the Southern California market, Inkslingers had a half-empty parking lot.

Some artists tell me, "I have to work these shows. I don't want to miss out on a big payday." If that's true, and I'm not too sure it is, what a shame. When tattooing becomes about money, instead of supporting the art and doing quality work, we're in big trouble. I remember when it was a privilege to participate in a Crowe and Dwyer event-or even Inkslinger's, for that matter.

Now I hear the biggest California promoter has gone from two to four and, pretty soon, six unbelievably big extravaganzas a year. They're even considering taking over events in other states. I guess that's the American way. Where does it stop? When the little guys give up and there's only one company producing everything? What's next, starter kits at Kmart?

Yup, it's the same old story. The people with the money and know-how discover something cool and take it over. Look at Honolulu. Look at Christmas. It's inevitable. Promoters grab the essence and merchandise it, simply because they know how to do it. They know how to bring in people and they won't stop growing and reaching for more until the market is saturated and the crowds don't come. Then they'll go back to putting on bridal shows, computer expos or whatever, just like they did before. Hey, they're businesspeople. They're smart.

But, hey, Mr. Promoter, while you're building this empire of yours, could you at least do some good? Could you please use your ever-increasing power and marketing savvy to stop equipment suppliers on the floor from selling tattoo tools to anyone with a credit card? I don't care about the "everyone else is doing it" arguments, they're patently untrue and it's harming the industry. Putting tattoo machines in the hands of untrained experimenters is hazardous to health and must be stopped. Hey, look at the bright side: If you boot out the unscrupulous suppliers, that still leaves you with 197 other booths to sell beef jerky and plastic samurai swords.

Bob Baxter
Editor in Chief