ART OF TATTOOING

Evening Star, Issue 22638, 3 May 1937, Page 11

ART OF TATTOOING

VISIT TO SPECIALIST'S SHOP VARIETY OF DESIGNS The tattooist’s shop stands in an obscure street full of running children who seem as though they must be killed by the next bus or tram (says a writer in the * Manchester Guardian’). And overhead there is the everlasting rumble of trains crossing a bridge. In the street in a bus stop, overlooked by a little dingy shop, which often piqued ray curiosity as X Waited for the belated bus. Photographs of strangely decorated men and women and almost heraldic designs of dragons, birds, and lizards fill its windows. On tno door is “ h , Tattooist.” And one foggy, damp afternoon last week, when a bus was particularly overdue, my morbid curiouslty was too strong; I mounted the few steps and rang. There was a pause, then a smune, then the door opened a little to show—■ a big cutrthroat razor. Fright made it seem enormous. But it was followed by a small grey roan, spectacled, widened, and with shaving soap on half his faced Ho beamed mildly. I was reassured. I said I wanted to ask him about tattooing. He Was most gema ; asked mo in—would I look round while ho finished shaving? I might find something to interest me. X did. Shaving over, the tattooist began to speak, rapidly, unemotionally. And first, as if clearing the cheap goods on the counter, he told mo what he thought I knew. SOME COME FOR FUN. That by no means only sailors came to him; that comparatively few clients wished to be done for show (though there was money to be made by the all-tattooed man or—still morewoman) ; that the rest came for fun titled ladies (he mentioned two), clergymen, writers, actors, actresses, and many business men, more men than women, though some women were the greatest addicts \ that they came In pairs, sweethearts, who came again, separately, to have the incriminating signs removed: that removing marks Was as much his business as putting them on. , All this the tattooist, said quickly, and then took a deep breath. It was what fie next said that showed me how important he must be. Not tfiat he boasted; his dry unemptiohahsm continued until it almost hypnotised. People, fie said, came strange distances to him: last wek a Dutch lady arrived at a West End hotel, spent three days in having “creepv-erawlies put on her (she loved them), then departed for Holland: a man flew from Belfast: a French officer had written—he showed me the letter— My _ serpents are lovely now a Spaniard, “ fed up with the war,” had just been tattooed first thing'on arriving m London. “How he knew me I dent know.' But it’s like that. I get lelr ters with just ‘London’ as address, and I’m always answering questions from tattooists in Holland, France, Germany, and—Burma, Yes, Burma and India arc the top'places. They do it with hammers and boards there (he showed me how), “ a cruel way. I try to teach them better ways. There’s more done in London than other places in Europe.” “ There are queer people come to me,” be said. Some bring their designs—queer ones. A lady wants ‘ something saucy ’: one wanted a highheeled shoe on her hack. But I ve only done two men completely—for show, of course. Wouldn’t touch another head —disfigurement, yu see, and trouble. Worst chap I knew—a foreigner—came in and said he wanted a dagger on his arm, with three drops of blood and ‘ Revenge ’ written- s < u< L,‘f e ,V shoot me if 1 did it wrong. Didnt want to do it, but he made me. t»iad when he went.” • ~ There was another pause while he fiddled at a drawer of the table. He pulled nut a photograph: sat.down “ A lovely piece of work, that was, he said. u * Home of the Gods (the picture was of Venus, Mars, and the goatfoot god reclining among foliage and snakes). “ Put that on a lady.” He showed more pictures—one was of a man tattooed back and front. “ That was a funny one, ho said. “Mim said he’d done some on himself—made an awful mess. So I said I’d better tidy it up, and I put a few lizards on, and he liked it, so I put more and he liked it more. And now you see he’s done all round. A lovely work. Pity he was so thin; he didn t show it off well. TWO YEARS SOMETIMES. “ And some like it and some don’t. Most can’t stand more than two hours a day, so it takes years to do them all over. Did one man, though, in sis months. Then there was a girl being done for show—a man paid for her. She hated it. Was crying all the time. She was only half-done when .she. went off. Never came back. Spoilt it all, I thought. _r “ Been here now 35 years. Here in the war. A grand time, that: the Tommies were bringing them girls all the time for a lark. Working allh the time. Blit I did a lot of other stuff m the war. Had to-mit blue shave marks on chins as were taken from legs to put oii smashed-up faces. Same things go on now. I go out a' lot—West End mostly—to make eyebrow lines, and to

line lips better and tint checks. Going out when you’re gone, as a matter of fact.” QUICK WORK. The time, I could see, had come for me to go, too. But I had to ask him; “ Would you show me how you do it? ” - <t r Ho took me to the outer room. i. do the lads here,” he said; “ two and six a lizard. Quick work,” Suddenly he took my arm with a strong movement, the more frightening since it was such a contrast to his previous gentle style of talk. And a little motor like a particularly venomous dentist’s drill began to buzz. ~, .. ... “ Won’t touch you,” he said, with a grim little laugh. I was relieved. Bub in spite of his promise not to touch me the buzzing needle drew very near mv arm. “ I don’t want to be done," I said, getting worried again. “Quite right,” he said, aJmost passionately, dropping my am; “ don t you ever! ” For the first time he spoke with a direct glance at me and conviction. •