16TH ANNUAL RICHMOND
TATTOO ARTS FESTIVAL—
AS GOOD AS IT EVER WAS
BY BOB BAXTER
WITH PHOTOS BY BERNARD CLARK

It's been a few years since we visited the man with a thousand Hawaiian shirts, Billy Eason, and his Richmond Tattoo Arts Festival in beautiful Virginia?2002, in fact. So, what happened? It used to be that Billy's show was a must-see for any true tattoo enthusiast, back when you could count the number of conventions on the fingers of one hand. Back when Crowe and Dwyer were in full swing and a weekend at a tattoo event was star-studded and bursting with energy. Leo Zulueta was there and Masayoshi from Japan. We gave out a couple thousand free copies of SKIN&INK and, at one point, I turned around and there was Spider Webb, who I had never met face to face. "I just drove down from New York City to say hello," he said. And then, quick as a wink, he shook my hand, turned, walked out the door and disappeared. Well, Spider no longer dwells in the Big Apple, but I'll never forget his support?and Eason's?in building my confidence and helping me get SKIN&INK on track and headed in the right direction.

A few months ago, I ran into Billy at some convention or other, and he asked me, "Why haven't you come to see me lately?" I really couldn't think of why, except that the last time I dropped by his event it wasn't quite the same raucous, energy-packed experience and there were other mega-conventions to check out. That was just about the time that tattooing hit the mainstream and dozens of new entrepreneurs were jumping aboard the bandwagon, siphoning off both the stars and the stargazers. Yes, that was over six years ago, so I was happy that Billy invited me and was anxious to see what had changed?and what remained the same.

As usual of late, just getting there was an adventure in itself. Forget about the pilot coming on the intercom and announcing that our takeoff from Portland International would be slightly delayed due to "the antenna falling off the plane." Yup, that's right. "We have no contact with the tower," he announced over the intercom. How comforting. So, there we sat on the tarmac. About an hour later, with a head full of worries about missing my connection, we were airborne.

Four and a half hours later, we made it to D.C. and boarded the second plane, a puddle-jumper to Richmond. Just in the nick of time. Since the last three or four promoters promised that I would be picked up at the airport but never was, I wondered if I would be stranded at Richmond International. I should have known; there, waiting for me with a placard reading "Bob Baxter" in big letters were two of Billy's helpers from Cincinnati, Nick Bertram and Wes Flemming. Both were super-conscientious. In fact, they had borrowed a really nice, late-model car with one of those fancy, satellite-based location-finder thingies all tuned and ready for the, normally, half-hour ride to the hotel. It talked. "Turn left," said the female-voiced computer. "Go one-quarter of a mile and make a slight right at James Street." Stuff like that.

I got a little bit nervous, I must admit, when the tracker put us on the 95 North and, then, three minutes later, had us exit the freeway, turn around and take the onramp onto the very same 95 going south. Then there was the tour of the business district. I guess the satellite thingy wanted me to get up close and personal with downtown Richmond, because we spent another twenty minutes inching through block after block of stop-sign-infested backstreets. The highlight was when the computer voice barked, "Stop. Turn around! Go back!" It was then that my chauffeurs got on their cell phone and dialed for help. After some back-and-forth with whomever was on the other end, our adventure to nowhere finally ended with a major bridge crossing and a six-mile homestretch down an expressway. But perseverance prevailed and, an hour and fifteen minutes after picking me up, there we were, pulling onto the winding driveway of the Holiday Inn Select at Koger Center South, which was, for this weekend at least, the center of the tattoo universe.

I remember this Holiday Inn from times before. The staff was always extremely attentive and friendly. Very casual and chatty. This year was no exception. They loved it when I handed out copies to the front counter staff. The room was excellent, too. Nice firm mattress and a choice of three our four different kinds of pillows (fiberfill, goose down, foam and oatmeal), lots of towels, sinks that drained, plenty of coffee packets and over a dozen little containers of half and half, Cremora and toy sugar. And a giant TV that worked, although the pay-per-view movies were out of order and I wasn't able to select the cinematic blockbuster that I was absolutely dying to see but was too embarrassed to admit in public, House Bunny. No problem. There was a giant fight next door with people bouncing off the walls and the fire alarm went off at 3:30 a.m., so I was profoundly entertained.

Bernard, my photographer, had arrived early that day from Canada and set up his photo studio a few convenient steps from the main hall. The crowd on the first day was fairly scant, but, after all, Fridays are usually slow. No matter. I like quiet Fridays, because it's a good time to walk around and say hello to the artists without bothering them as they work. A smattering of the one hundred or so main floor tattooists were busy servicing clients, but others, like high-profilers Joe Capobianco, Jack Rudy and Mike Skiver were happy to simply schmooze and gossip with old friends. And there were plenty of those. It's a trademark of Billy Eason's events to include a good cross section of both well-known and emerging artists. How can you go wrong when there is talent like Chris Dingwell, Shane O'Neill, Bob Tyrrell, Shahn Anderson, Jime Litwalk, Jason McCarty, Civ and Rodney Raines holding forth on the main floor? The foreign contingent consisted of Japan's Horiryu, but this lack of foreign artists was balanced by celebrity guest appearances from the initials-only contingent of J.D. Crowe, C.W. Eldridge and R.J. Musolf. On the distaff side, it was good to see Penny Funk and Mary Skiver brightening up the place. And as far as up-and-comers go, I was especially impressed with Craig Foster's work and wasted no time scheduling him for a Spotlight interview in an upcoming issue.

Day two gave us an opportunity to settle in and familiarize ourselves with the layout. On the previous night, Bernard and I had navigated the frozen tundra leading from the hotel to the Mexican restaurant across the expressway (the temperature was in the twenties) and the food was surprisingly good, considering I lived in Los Angeles for years and know good carnitas when I taste them. But the big surprise came on Saturday morning; namely, the quality of the food in the hotel restaurant. An open affair a few steps from the high-ceilinged main lobby (kept a nippy fifty degrees Fahrenheit), all three mealtimes, breakfast, lunch and dinner, featured a buffet that was head and shoulders above the standard convention fare. Everything was fresh, there were lots of options and everywhere you looked were servers wearing convention T-shirts and clearing dishes. There were also a couple hard liquor bars in the lobby area and another inside the main convention hall. Although there were several signs admonishing participants to confine their imbibing to various prescribed areas (there are very strict laws in Virginia), cigarette smoking was somehow okay in the lobby areas, especially outside the entryway into the main hall. Because of this, in order to go from our photo studio to the artists' booths, we had to take a deep breath and, holding it, make our way across No Man's Land, through the ominous cloud of cigarette smoke. I guess it was too cold for the nicotiners to step outside, like they do at conventions held in greener cities.

The tattoo contests were held upstairs on the second floor, just down the hall from various tattoo and vendor booths, about fifteen in all. Although the crowd knew about this second area, the artists working the room told me they liked these quieter surroundings and were able to do their work without the constant distraction of noisy crowds and looky-loos. The judging, by the way, was moderated by the reigning king of the M.C.s, Mr. Chris Longo. So many top conventions demand the best when it comes to keeping things moving onstage. Without a doubt, Chris is the tattoo industry's first choice. With his laidback attitude and ingratiating style, Longo consistently turns what is potentially a boring contest experience into an enjoyable treat for both viewers and contestants alike. And you should have seen those trophies. They were tall enough to give the Washington Square Arch a run for the money.

The Saturday crowd was twice the size of Friday's, but still there was no crush. But even so, every booth was busy pushing ink. A few tattooists were sitting around but, when I'd walk the circle a second time, most everyone was hooked up with a client. So, it would seem, the attendees had come to Richmond to get actual tattoos rather than simply paying their ticket money to cruise and gawk.

One interesting attendee was a guy who goes by the stage name Blaze. Billing himself as a professional "comedic stage hypnotist," Blaze worked with several of the artists and their clients to reduce the pain of being inked. He would hypnotize clients and then sit close by during the entire tattooing process, using autosuggestion to lower their level of anxiety. That's how explained it, anyway. Look at it this way: if it works for you, that's cool. Plus, when you get tattooed, it's not a good idea to ingest pharmaceuticals, take over-the-counter pain killers, drink alcohol or toke (they all affect the tattooing process in negative ways), so why not try hypnosis? Just as long as the practitioner doesn't make you to cluck like a chicken and hop around the convention floor laying imaginary eggs.

Sunday was very quiet. Mostly it was artists finishing up large work they had started on Friday or Saturday. But the buffet was tremendous. Being Sunday, there were both numerous breakfast selections and pricier brunch items (under fifteen bucks), plus a wonderful, burbling chocolate fountain complete with cute, little, bite sized cream puffs and marshmallows.

Yes, it was cold outside. Yes, it was the week before Thanksgiving. Those two reasons alone could explain the less than record-breaking attendance. But who cares? The whole reason you go to a tattoo convention in the first place is to see world-class artists from out of town, get that tattoo you've always wanted, have terrific things to eat and, if you're going to stay the night, have a comfortable room with plenty of amenities and a big screen T.V. What with all those plusses, big deal if you didn't get to see House Bunny. You'll just have to do what I'm doing?wait till it comes out on DVD.

By the way, Eason's seventh annual summer version will be held June third through the fifth. For information, log onto www.birdlitd.com.