FEATURE ARTICLE
TRAVELIN' MICK
For quite a while now I've been traveling the tattoo world, always looking for cool shops, ancient traditions and rocking conventions. Well, and once again, I couldn't help but stumbling into Los Angeles, home to so many inkslingers—it's kind of hard to count them all. And, once again, I humbly sneaked into the marvelous offices of Mr. B. Baxter to beg for an assignment and an enormous expense account. I don't know what made him finally give in. Maybe my ability to travel to his office in Pasadena from Hollywood JUST by using public transport (which IS more of a challenge than getting to the Iban long houses in the jungle of Borneo) impressed him so much that he asked me to write letters about my travels (no expense account, however).
I got to El Lay on a stopover from Hawaii, where I had thoroughly enjoyed the warmth of the Pacific weather and of the hospitality of its people. Keone Nunes, as well as his friends and family, had given me such a warm welcome and a great insight into the recently revived culture of the proud Hawaiian people; my heart was heavy when I left. One morning, even before the sun had risen over Diamond Head, he and Vaughn, his apprentice of five years, came to fetch me from Waikiki. I knew hardly anything about what awaited me, just that I must bring my camera. It turned out to be the celebration of the return of the Hokule'a from Rapa Nui. The navigators of this traditional Hawaiian canoe managed to find tiny Easter Island in the midst of the vast Pacific just by watching the elements. I was one of only a few haole (white people) chosen to witness the celebration of this great symbol of the unity of the Polynesian people. It was one of those days a traveler never forgets. Goosebumps all over, despite the heat, I watched a young warrior throw a spear out to sea as a blessing for the crew members and hula dancers perform in front of the guests who were then honored with gifts of awa (the Samoan kava) and food. How impressed was I, when I watched my friend Keone, dressed in a loincloth, chant praise over the seafaring nations of Polynesia. And everywhere there were tattoos: the huge Samoans with their pe'a, on the delegates of Aotearoa doing the haka, as well as the hosts of Hawaii, most of them proudly wearing the patterns of their ancestors.
Back in L.A., Baxter took me on a sightseeing tour, not only retracing the steps of his own personal past, but also showing me a few of the tattoo landmarks of the City of Angels. We spent an afternoon editing pictures for the Skin and Ink Readers' Gallery together with R.J. of Tabu Tattoo (one of the nicest shops I've ever seen). I met Dottie and a young guy from Tennessee called Dave. But he, of course, is not the legendary Tennessee Dave who owns West Coast Tattoo, the oldest shop in Los Angeles. This shop, I tell you, is a whole different story. Dave James (brother of Greg James and not from Tennessee at all) has been tattooing in Downtown L.A. for 38 years and has some stories to tell. If you ever want to see what old school really means—other than just tattooing a few hearts and daggers—check it out. They're nice people there, just a little rough on the outside, and hey, a name is still ten bucks!
If you want to find out about the European conventions, check out <www.tattoo-guide-europe.de/termin/date.htm>. Don't forget Tin-Tin's Tattoo World Cup in Paris, held in January for the second time. It's party time all the way for more than 4,000 visitors and about 100 very happy artists. You can smoke and drink wherever you want (and whatever you want), and the location is just great, smack in the middle of the red light district bordering Montmartre in an old Art Deco theatre. Pure old world atmosphere! About 30 Americans came this year, and I'm pretty positive they'll be back. If you want to come next year, contact Blandine at 011-33-1-40230790 or fax 011-33-1-40230798. Everything's a little bit of a chaos, but there's always someone to help you out. TinTin just knows what the people want: A good show (yes, there was plenty of nudity - male and female!), a great atmosphere and some killer ink. The contest was a blast. How can one decide which tattoo is the best when there are ONLY world class artists present? So, a lot of fun things happened on stage, like Tin-Tin being asked to identify the owner of some lingerie that was thrown on stage by the mere use of his olfactory sense (he wasn't able to!). I'm not gonna list all the American artists present, you know most of them anyway, but a couple of the Europeans are definitely worth mentioning. Robert Hernandez from Mao y Cathy Tattoo in Madrid, Spain, causes clogged aisles everywhere he works, because of the incredibly three-dimensional, mostly gory images he creates. Not exactly old style, but pretty imaginative. Well, anyway, I'll keep you posted.
—Travelin' Mick
Wherever I lay my head is home