Back in the late 1970s when I was working at Maryland Public Television, an instructional TV producer was taping a math series for middle schools. He had the script writer compose a rap song for one of the programs to teach the process of multiplication. When classroom teachers were asked to critique this program before its broadcast, they expressed concern about the use of rap, worrying that it was a fad that would soon date the series.
Almost 40 years later, the top 10 songs of the week still feature rap artists and "Straight Outta Compton," a biopic about the late '80s rap group N.W.A., is one of the season's highest-grossing movies at $160 million and counting. So rap was certainly no fad and is now well implanted in our culture.
I guess the same can be said for tattoos. For the past two decades I have been patiently waiting for this cultural phenomenon to burn out, but today it is stronger than ever. An April 2015 Pew Research Center survey on tattoos revealed that 36 percent of adults ages 18 to 25 have at least one tattoo. The figure climbs to 40 percent for adults 26 to 40.
The estimated 21,000 tattoo parlors in the U.S. rake in an astounding $1.65 billion a year. (That's no typo. It's well over a billion dollars.) It all adds up. The average cost of a small tattoo is about $45, and an elaborate, arm and back-filling, mythological-themed, in-living-color illustration runs an average of $150 an hour — no small change. Not to be petty, but you have to wonder how some of our local street people can afford their pricey skin art.
And what's the motivation for getting a tat? About 29 percent do so because it makes them feel rebellious, 31 percent say it makes them feel sexier, and 43 percent think that getting a tat with "a personal meaning is the most important factor."
When I was a kid, tattoos were the province of the sailor and the soldier returning from foreign duty. They were usually bestowed after a night of drinking with your comrades, and there were many stories of guys waking up the next morning surprised at their new embellishments. The themes back then were pretty simple — anchors, eagles, U.S. flags, hearts, a woman's figure with a girlfriend's name and, of course, the ubiquitous "MOM." Today virtually any image can be requested, from movie stars to elaborate 19th-century Japanese prints, and the quality of the draftsmanship and ink is exceedingly high. In our challenging economy, there are probably more than a few art school grads thankfully wielding the needle.
As may be apparent, I am not a big fan of tattoos but have come to accept such adornments as wristlets, ankle tats, and even the above-the-buttocks stamps. I know of a young couple who had wedding bands tattooed on their ring fingers in place of the gold metal variety, and I find that charming. I draw the line at anything that defaces a person and that, I fear, they will be sorry for when middle age sets in, if not before. Sleeve tattoos (those that cover the arm like a long-sleeved shirt) and face tattoos fall into this category, as do full-body tattoos that rival a carnival sideshow attraction. I've observed a few women with tats that march up their arms and land on their faces, encircling an eye. I consider these a grave mistake in judgment that they will someday regret and/or have to pay a small fortune to have removed.
Here's an idea: What if patrons could choose an ink that slowly fades over the years? This innovation would help avoid eventual embarrassment and ensure that the Mount Fuji above one's navel doesn't morph into a diorama of the Grand Tetons over time.
I am not always a Bible literalist, but I do think it interesting that there are those in society who rail against same-sex marriage because of Leviticus 18:22 but offer no objection to tattoos despite what Leviticus 19:28 proscribes: "Do not … put tattoo marks on yourselves." That sounds pretty clear to me.
None of my three kids has tattoos, but I should steel myself for what my six grandkids might do when they come of age. I just hope they realize that sometimes beauty really is skin deep.
Frank Batavick writes from Westminster. His column appears Fridays. Email him at fjbatavick@gmail.com.
