EDITOR'S COMMENT—JANUARY 2001
The current convention scene is not a bed of roses. I guess I'm spoiled by those beautifully orchestrated Crowe and Dwyer events and won't accept substitutes. I must say that Bonge, Butch and Clayton put on a classic in New York City and I'll never forget Paulo's celebration in Samoa, but such perfection is difficult to duplicate, especially when it comes to two recent experiences—one well-meaning and the other just plain mean.
The well-meaning one was the Steel N Skin event in San Diego. Put on by the energetic entrepreneur, Ty Tago, this 2nd Annual Tattoo & Piercing Extravaganza at the San Diego Concourse Convention Center reflected a genuine interest in producing a first-rate event. Tago took last year's critiques and corrected many of the event's shortcomings. In my opinion, Tago and his staff bent over backward to provide a supportive, well-laid-out environment for both artists and patrons.
But nobody came.
The 1st International Tattoo Festival in Raiatea, Tahiti, on the other hand was not produced and coordinated by helpful folks doing their utmost to listen to the participants' needs. In fact, after my being invited to the festival by the event coordinators six months before, nearly 15 of my faxes and an equal number of e-mails remained unanswered and key questions went unresponded to. And, from what several other artists and participants have told me, I was definitely not alone. Since I had planned to do an extensive article on the proceedings, I needed to know not only about the logistics but the numerous fine points regarding advertising (we offered free space), what Skin & Ink support staff was and was not paid for and precisely what equipment and accoutrements to bring.
Nobody responded.
As the months zipped by and my inquires, one-by-one, were systematically avoided by Ms. Patricia Maurin and her staff, I acquiesced to my fears of being marooned in the middle of the Pacific with no paddle and finally sent an e-mail stating that, since I had not been provided with even a hint of necessary information and no one seemed remotely interested in answering any of my pleas, I respectfully declined their offer to attend and bowed out.
The next day, I got an overseas phone call from a man with a French accent. I presumed it was the Tahiti event people calling to apologize and make amends. Instead, all I heard was, "This eez Fabian from Tahiti Manava. Eez Mike Malone coming?"
"Mike Malone coming? How would I know?" I answered. "Don't you have his phone number?"
"You have hees phone numbair?" came the response.
"Yeah, sure. Got a pencil?" After reading Rollo's phone number to the monsieur on the other end of the line, I followed up with, "Since I have you on the line, I wonder if you received my e-mail yesterday about your not answering my faxes and my canceling out of the convention?"
"Thees is not a good time to talk about zat," interjected the voice. "This ees not ze appropriate time to spend time discussing eet. Adieu." And, with that, he hung up on me.
I've always heard tell that the French were a bunch of arrogant, rude bastards, but I presumed that was just rumors. God knows, every time I run into France's favorite tattoo artist, Tin-Tin, and his compatriots, Luc and Blandine, they are charming and polite. So what's with the frogs in French Polynesia?
Ah, Crowe and Dywer, where are you now in our hour of need?
—Bob Baxter, Editor in Chief