Tattoo artists say acceptance of their work is growing. Their subjects say it’s hard to stop at one. Daniel Tran and Natalie Kotsios report.JOHN Allan lies back on a reclining chair in a little back room in Belgrave. Sterilised, shiny instruments are lined up behind him; fresh needles in packets ready to go. He could be visiting the dentist, and although he’s not, this could be just as painful.
Allan looks relaxed though as he lifts his right arm back over his head. A few hours and a few hundred thousand tiny needle pricks later his inner bicep will be marked forever. This will be his fourth tattoo, and the start of a three-quarter-length sleeve that will transform his arm into a work of art.
‘‘They all sort of have a bit of meaning to them, but mostly I just like the way they look,’’ says Allan, a 25-year-old electrician, of his tattoos so far. ‘‘They’re still a little bit taboo I guess and catch people’s eye, but a lot of people have them these days so it’s not that big a deal.’’
You only have to take a good look around you to see Allan’s summation is right. Once upon a time, it seemed tattoos were solely the domain of bikies and other ‘tough’ guys. But today you’re just as likely to see a mother-of-two with her kids’ names on her ankle, a young professional with the hint of a sleeve tattoo peeking out from his shirt, or a prim and polite uni student with angel wings drawn on her back.
The increasing popularity of tattooing has not gone unnoticed by Allan’s tattoo artist Andre Cleary, owner of the aptly-named Taboo Tattoo, with shops in Belgrave, Boronia and Blackburn. He says tattoos have always been popular but it’s the attitudes towards them that have changed dramatically.
‘‘There’s no way professionals would have shown them off in the ’70s, they’d have been too embarrassed,’’ he says while deftly preparing a new needle.
About half Cleary’s clients are regulars with whom he’s built up a bond. The rest have come in after picking his shop out of the hundreds of parlours across the city.
‘‘I reckon there were only about 10 professional parlours in Melbourne in the ’70s,” Cleary says. “When I was growing up, you could look at a tatt and know at a glance who did it. You could be in Queensland and look at a bloke and know he was from Melbourne by his tatt.’’
He says that these days hardly anyone just wanders in and picks a tattoo off the artists’ wall, nor does he raise too many questions about what people do request.
Alex Ivaschenko, owner of Sanitary Electric Tattoo Parlour in Springvale, agrees more professions are starting to be accepting of body art. These days even police come in to get full sleeves done.
It wasn’t always that way however. Some of Ivaschenko’s most memorable (and painful) tattoos were his hand pieces, which he was only able to get after he quit his job as a finance broker. He remembers with some distaste having to wear long, dark or textured shirts during extreme heat, free-dress days and even while playing golf.
‘‘My clients never knew. It was hard because I’ve always loved tattoos. I’ve always liked hand tattoos and visible tattoos and I’ve had to hide them for the past 10 years.’’
His business partner Jakob Morley says people have become more curious and come to accept body art but he is still careful about who and what he draws on permanently. That means nothing offensive on a young person and only doing a facial piece on someone who already has a collection of tattoos.
Morley often has his bags checked at the airport and attracts stares on public transport.
“You get tattoos, you know that people are going to look at them. It doesn’t offend me, it’s just part of it. That’s the reason why I wouldn’t go and tattoo someone’s face right away because people do look at you more and you’ve got to be able to accept that.”
It’s something Oakleigh South resident Simon Jurgens is familiar with. Jurgens has 15 tattoos and has spent about 30 hours of his life being inked. He still gets looks when his tatts are on show but he says it doesn’t bother him any more.
“It’s the old thing, judging a book by its cover. My friends and the people I know at work, they know the type of person I am. Tattoos are just an extension of who I am.”
Jurgens is a manager at a bank call centre and, although he normally wears long sleeves, most of the time they’re rolled up. He says people in his office, including his immediate bosses, are aware of his tattoos and don’t mind. It’s only when he has a big meeting that he rolls his sleeves down.
“It’s common sense,” he says.
For him, the artform is definitely addictive.
“I’m going to sound like a freak but I actually like the whole process. Picking the design I want, sitting down, getting it done. The needle doesn’t bother me at all. Probably what bothers me the most is the sound. I don’t like the sound of the needle.”
Back in Belgrave, that needle is ready to get to work. Cleary looks thoughtful for a moment before he starts to work on Allan’s latest addition. The thing that has kept tattoos so popular, he says, is part of what started the trend in the first place: rebellion.
‘‘It’s still got a bit to do with society, all the rules and regulations we have,’’ he says. ‘‘People still like feeling nobody can tell you to do this or that. I don’t know how long the popularity will last. The next generation might think, ‘Everyone else has got one, so I don’t want one, too.’’’
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