GIVE ME LIBERTY AND GIVE ME INK—
THE PHILADELPHIA TATTOO ARTS CONVENTION
BY BOB BAXTER
WITH PHOTOS BY BERNARD CLARK

The last couple of times we tried to do a Sylvester Stallone and run up the famous Rocky Steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, we froze our bippies off. Swathed in parkas, scarves and snow boots, we gave up halfway and returned to the warmth of the Sheraton. But even with the mercury hovering near zero, the past versions of Troy Timpel's Philadelphia Tattoo Arts Convention were hoppin'. And, this time, with Florida-like temperatures, the crowds were even bigger.

We arrived Friday evening, and already it looked like Saturday. Fridays, as you convention regulars know, are as quiet as a tomb. Its a good time to stroll around and talk to artists ruminating in their booths. Fridays are cool for taking a quick look and saying hello before the crowds come. But as I meandered up and down the eight aisles with six or seven booths on each side (some were double and triple), the place was already buzzing. Endless lines of paying customers ascended the escalators, crammed elevators and mobbed the stairways. By my quick calculation, there were probably, let's see?eight aisles times fourteen booths times two artists?that's two hundred twenty-four artists, give or take a few. Plus, at the back of the hall was an art fusion group featuring Guy Aitchison, and, this time, they were working in color.

An art fusion, as you probably know, is when a bunch of tattooists queue up in front of an equal number of enormous pads of paper on large easels. Armed with, usually, charcoal, the artists execute a freehand graphic of some sort and, after a designated amount of time, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, everyone moves to the right and continues on, and so on. It's an old art school exercise that Aitchison and others have brought to the convention scene as a way of adding a bit of excitement and also demonstrating that tattoo artists can do more than just tattoo. To me, the results are often inconsistent. Lots of swirling whirlpools, biomechanical gears and Japanese dragons. True, it can be interesting to watch, especially if the artists are top notch, but nothing I'd frame on my wall. This time, however, it seems that the art fusion concept had progressed into color, which makes a great difference aesthetically. In fact, this group of seven tried something entirely new and groundbreaking. Get this: they each painted their own picture. No switching off. No moving to the right after fifteen minutes. I'm not sure who initiated this groundbreaking concept, but I have never seen it before at a convention. Imagine?artists painting pictures all by themselves. See, if you wait long enough, the old becomes new again.

In my initial tour of the hall, I ran to the originator of the show, Philadelphia Eddie, and his pal, Bowery Boy Stanley Moskowitz, who, much to my surprise, was tattooing. Usually, these icons of the industry are content to sit around and glad-hand the fans, so it was good to see Stan pushing ink. And then there was SKIN&INK cover artist David Nestler. Known affectionately as the "Norman Rockwell of Tattoo Magazines," Nestler had his booth decked out with current posters and copies of Nestler Girls?Volume One, a fifty-page collection of Dave's sketches and mixed-media pinups that have established him as one of the top artists in the genre.

It was getting late and we hadn't eaten since we stepped off the plane, so Bernard and I decided to have a late Friday evening dinner. And as we made our way through the crowd, I looked over the edge of the balcony and saw another swarm of people crowded around a double doorway on the mezzanine below.

"What's happening down there?" I asked.
"That's a whole other ballroom," said Bernard.

Last year, this room was the site of a meager bike show and a couple of piercer booths. This year, it had eight aisles and seven booths on each side, just like the one upstairs. Taking a backseat to no one, this additional venue featured Bob Tyrrell, Mark Longnecker, Robert Pho and a hundred or so others. Plus, just outside the entryway was an honest-to-goodness sideshow with a two-headed duckling, a pretty girl with a tiny top hat and a ringmaster with a fez. Along the wall was the best part of the exhibit, a row of hand-painted sideshow banners.

Downstairs on the main floor was a large lounge area with a full-service bar and, across from that, a sit-down restaurant. Upstairs on the mezzanine was a cafeteria-style food line with hamburgers, hot dogs and Philly cheesesteak sandwiches. How was the food? You've got to be a little nervous about the cuisine in a town whose culinary claim to fame is a chopped-beef hoagie smothered in Cheez Whiz.

Dotted among the tattoo booths and filling the ballroom-level lobby on both sides was a line of vendors, including a guy who made belts out of bullets, suppliers selling tattoo ink and machines to anyone with a credit card (what on earth has happened to responsible convention management, please tell me) and various T-shirt, flash and jewelry booths. If anything, it all added to the flea market atmosphere, but that isn't such a bad thing. In fact, the enormous response to this event is, I feel, a positive reflection on the overall health of the tattoo industry. Steve Peace may have Canadian conventions locked, but Troy Timpel is the serious Stateside challenger. From the starting bell at eleven a.m., the escalators were full, the elevators were packed and the aisles were choked with enthusiastic rubber-neckers.

What with the constant stream of people, by the end of Saturday we had photographed about thirty people. We're very selective about whom we shoot (we only ask people to pose if we feel they would potentially end up in the magazine), so thirty is a good number. And, since the temperature was in the seventies, we were able to find several very striking models. At cold-weather shows, the ladies and gents usually show up in hoodies, parkas and long johns, so you never know what's under all that clothing. In good weather, people like to show off the work on their arms, legs and other body parts usually covered in goose down. It's a lot easier to spot ink when the sun's out.

The last time I visited Timpel's event, I made several suggestions. Three items of concern were: (1) involve name artists, so fans could see some of the stars they read about in the magazines; (2) present instructive tattoo-related seminars; and (3) ditch the suspensions. Well, two out of three ain't bad. Bob Tyrrell, Guy Aitchison, John Clue, Boog, Derek Dufresne, Nikko, Corey Kruger, Robert Pho and Marshal Bennett showed up and there were a handful of seminars, but not only did the suspensions remain, they got more elaborate. Troy himself said that suspensions have nothing to do with tattooing and are only marginally related because they are both body modifications. Well, in that case, so is chopping off your ear, but I think Troy likes suspensions because they're edgy. They are also antisocial, counterculture and provocative; characteristics that tattooing hasn't really exhibited for several years now. On those grounds, I'll give it a pass this time (with protest) and, when multiple bodies swing and sway on meat hooks in the lobby at ten o'clock on Saturday night, I'll retreat to my room and watch TV.

The amazing thing about this particular suspension, in case you want to know, was the location?smack dab in the middle of the Sheraton lobby. That's gotta be a first. And quite remarkable considering that not everyone staying at the hotel was into tattoos. Airline pilots, businesspeople of all stripes and travelers in town with their kids to see the Liberty Bell, they're all housed together at the Sheraton. With that in mind, can you image coming in from some small town in Iowa, here with your wife and kids, and there are a couple of guys with meat hooks jammed in their elbows, swinging from a twenty-foot scaffolding? Welcome to Philadelphia, Mr. and Mrs. Middle America. How Troy Timple pulled this off is a tribute to modern-day tattoo negotiations. Can you image Crowe and Dwyer trying that stunt at one of their Tattoo Tour events a decade ago? First of all, I don't think they'd even dream of bringing in a suspension act to their convention, and, back then, hotels were on security alert whenever a tattooed person signed in at the reservation counter, let alone someone with a labret the size of a golf ball and horns implanted in his skull. Just watching the current crop of reservation-counter employees standing at their posts as the piercers began spinning above the crowds was priceless. Their eyes were like saucers.

Because of the warm weather (the temperature took a dive during the night, but shot up again to seventy-five on Sunday afternoon), there were a lot of restaurants within walking distance. When the convention was held during the cold months, one didn't choose where to eat because of the menu; it was more about how far was it from the warmth of the Sheraton lobby. But, even so, the local choices are nothing to write home about. Our favorite breakfast place located at the Reading Terminal Market on Twelfth Street was heavy on the chipped beef on toast, biscuits and gravy and pancakes with sausage. I'd like to say the local Mexican restaurant was acceptable, but after being seated by a lavatory door than banged shut every time someone exited and waiting fifteen minutes for a margarita, I'll wait till I get to Los Angeles for my next order of fajitas and horchata.

All in all, Troy Timpel's event was a winner. There were lots and lots of people, an excellent M.C. (Carl), lots of room, a burlesque show, seminars (not very many, but it's a start) by Marshall Bennett and Dave Nestler, clean restrooms, the Enigma slicing apples in his mouth with a chain saw (blindfolded, no less!), plenty of bartenders and some wonderful architecture within a five minute walk, so I really can't complain. Sure, there were nearly four hundred tattooists, but what with thousands of potential customers to draw from, most of the artists were busy.

Speaking of artists, I went around on Saturday morning and collected business cards. The more appealing ones are displayed on these pages, and we even chose a winner. I thought it might make things more interesting, so we're also featuring banners. Banners and business cards are a big part of every show, and I didn't want to overlook them. And all of this on the same weekend as the Nationals in Reno. Two major events on the same, identical weekend? I can hear the naysayers now: "That's not acceptable," they'll say. "You're saturating the market. There aren't enough ticket buyers to go around. Where are you going to get all those artists?" They have a point, of course, but let's face it, it's two completely different crowds. The Nationals are staid and traditional, Philly is a tattoo carnival. And as for talent and fans, there seem to be plenty to go around.