The Tattooed Poets Project: Guy LeCharles Gonzalez Presents A Bat from Jersey and a Honeymoon Memento

Today's tattoos are presented by the poet Guy LeCharles Gonzalez.

The first one is a bat:


Guy explains:

"I got the first tattoo, a stylized bat, back in 1995 somewhere in New Jersey; Toms River, maybe? I'd resisted the urge to get one while I was on active duty in the Army, not wanting something stereotypical that I'd hate or regret a few years later, but a friend of mine had finally psyched herself up, and convinced me and another friend to head down to the Jersey Shore and do the deed as a group. Before we got to the Shore, which seemed much further away than we thought it was, we passed a small tattoo parlor on the side of the road and decided to go there instead. Batman has always been my favorite superhero, appealing on a number of levels, but I figured the logo would be too cheesy for a tattoo, and picked out a bat from the artist's sketchbook, tweaked it a little bit, and voila! I still love it to this day."

The second tattoo Guy sent was this:


Guy continues:

"I got the second tattoo, a pseudo-tribal band with my wife's name in the middle, on the second-to-last day of our honeymoon in Cancun in July 1998. There was a tattoo parlor in one of the flea market/shopping districts up near the elbow of the strip that seemed pretty clean -- despite the handful of teenagers getting tattoos they would certainly regret a few years later -- and against our better judgment, we both decided to get our second tattoos, each incorporating the other's name. We'll celebrate our 11th anniversary this summer, and before then we both intend to have those tattoos tweaked; I'd like mine to be bigger and have more of a Mayan flavor to
it as I've always felt a connection to that culture, even before our trips to the Yucatan."

Thanks to Guy for sharing these tattoos with us here on Tattoosday!

Please head over to BillyBlog and check out one of his poems here.

The Tattooed Poets Project: Cody Todd's Murals - Star Wars and an Interpretive Tribal

Today's tattoos come from Cody Todd, who was referred to me by Carol Muske-Dukes:

The first one is a back piece, still in progress:


Cody explains this as "a Star Wars mural--the Millenium Falcon in front of a meteor pursued by a TIE Fighter, from The Empire Strikes Back with the specter of Boba Fett looming above the chase." He credits an artist named Skip (since retired) at Old World Tattoo in Arvada, Colorado (North Denver). This was primarily done in 1996.

Cody expands on the piece:

...the one on my back is still in progress--I foresee at least 5-6 more sessions and touch-ups before I can say it is certainly complete. I like visual collages and pastiche, just as I like the poetic collage of Eliot's Prufrock and The Waste Land, Marianne Moore's Poetry, or Frank Stanford's "The Battlefield where the Moon Says I Love You" and Joshua Clover's The Totality for Kids, are other examples. Poetry that synthesizes subject matter, speaking voices, speaking subjects, and stitch together otherwise independent and unlike things--unified by the mode of collage.

Why a Star Wars tattoo? Well, I guess I buy the argument lent forth in Joseph Campbell's The Hero with A Thousand Faces, that the mythical embodiments of the epic, the quest, and the hero are not just culturally shared, but I think each generation has their own embodiment as well. Hokey, cheesy, and melodramatic --yes, but I still watch Empire... with great nostalgia, and I don't think enough credit goes to [George] Lucas and his literary homage paid to Aquinas, Emerson, Plato, and Homer, to name a few. However, the revisions of Star Wars Episodes 1-3 are so bad I cannot watch them without getting sick. Maybe I am old now, but I just don't get them at all. Nevertheless, my parents still joke about the fact that I was conceived in the backseat of a Ford Pinto while they were "watching" Star Wars at a south Denver drive-in in the summer of 77."

The second piece is a "tribal-esque mural," of sorts, and was tattooed by a friend of Cody's named Bryan in 1997, at Your Flesh Grappling (now known as Your Flesh Tattoo) in Durango, Colorado. This piece was drawn by Cody and wraps around his left thigh:

Cody added:

"The leg tattoo was a personalized redefinition of the "Tribal" tattoos that were the craze when tattoos were no longer isolated to deviancy. Loosely quoting Mike Ness of Social Distortion, in the 1990's, kids could go to a mall and get their little "parts" pierced or walk out of there with a barbed wire tribal band around their biceps. I took a one-page graffiti collage from a notebook that I penciled of hooks, circles, ovoids, anemone-shaped and flame-shaped patterns with tentacles--my first name is actually on the upper left, and a small skyline of Denver with that wacky cash-register shaped building [The Wells Fargo Center] is just 1:00 o'clock from the family of bubbles or spheres centered in the band. I am going to amend this tat with another piece of similar solid black-ink graffiti to wrap a 4-inch band around my knee. That is the thing about tattoos--they are addictive; they beg to grow new limbs, and in that sense they are like little monsters."

I've been posting the tattooed poets' work over on BillyBlog and you can check out not one, but two of Cody's poems here. One is called "Boba Fett". But, as an added treat, I'm including one here, as well, because it just seemed appropriate:

Tattooed on the Backs of Eight Fireflies:

Under a dark loam of night,

pure barbed wire.

*

Apparitions dancing

dancing and dancing.

*

Some of us just might bite

the apple those cursed birds already did.

*

Old story: cat bats us away

to reanimate or destroy.

*

Words are the ruse, flight

is the guise, and we are the fakers.

*

Return the favor: grace for

sex or salvation for dust.

*

Time is the knife. Gods the size

of thumbs. Men with bloody hands.

*

We captured our god, the sun,

and feasted on him by torchlight.

Thanks to Cody for not only sharing his tattoos with us here on Tattoosday, but for expounding on them at such length. It's always fascinating to hear people go beyond the literal meanings of the tattoos themselves, and explore the deeper significance of the art form as it pertains to themselves and society.

Quick Henna Jewel for Everyday Wear

Here is a lovely example of a traditional henna pattern that works well for everyday wear in Western culture. The pattern is from the "Sangeet" pattern book.

This quick henna took about 10 minutes from start to finish, and fit perfectly on the wrist. It is a "tiny" tattoo, but a lovely example of the traditional art.

I am using a "wetter" paste this year, which means that the henna flows very quickly from the cone and is easier to work with. The wetter paste does take a bit longer to dry on the skin, so you may need to wait a bit longer for the henna to dry.

However, this extended drying time helps you get darker color in your finished henna tattoo. Stop by the Midnight Sun, 1055 Park Street, Jacksonville, Florida on Saturdays to get your henna art. Remember if you want to have henna on the lower back or belly, wear hip huggers & a crop top.

For tattoo on the feet, wear the tiniest sandals possible! More skin = more color.

The Tattooed Poets Project: Dese'Rae Stage and Some Poetic Tulips

Last Wednesday (April 15), I was trying to distract myself from having my back tattooed, when my BlackBerry chirped and I found a wonderful e-mail in my inbox. A poet and photographer named Dese'Rae Stage had graced me with some photos of a few of her fifteen tattoos. What follows is my favorite of those pieces:

The first piece is based on Sylvia Plath's poem "Tulips":


The poem is below, with the lines extracted for the tattoo highlighted:

TULIPS

The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.
I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses
And my history to the anaesthetist and my body to surgeons.

They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff
Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut.
Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in.
The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble,
They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps,
Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another,
So it is impossible to tell how many there are.

My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water
Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently.
They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep.
Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage ----
My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox,
My husband and child smiling out of the family photo;
Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.

I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat
Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations.
Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley
I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books
Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head.
I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.

I didn't want any flowers, I only wanted
To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
How free it is, you have no idea how free ----
The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,
And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.
It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them
Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.

The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.
Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe
Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby.
Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.
They are subtle: they seem to float, though they weigh me down,
Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their colour,
A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.

Nobody watched me before, now I am watched.
The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me
Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,
And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow
Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips,
And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself.
The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.

Before they came the air was calm enough,
Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss.
Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.
Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river
Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine.
They concentrate my attention, that was happy
Playing and resting without committing itself.

The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves.
The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;
They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,
And comes from a country far away as health.

Dese'Rae explains the background of this tattoo:

"The interpretation is literal enough: it's a poem about suicide and I'd recently tried to commit suicide (I got the piece done back in November 2006 and the summer prior was particularly difficult). One of my oldest friends, Ryan Falcon, just happens to be a talented artist, so I took him a tiny line drawing of some tulips and a copy of the poem with the selected lines highlighted and told him to go to it. The only stencil he used was for the words. He drew a rough outline of the bulbs, but everyth ing else was free-handed. This piece is on my inner left calf."

For the sake of brevity, I am only posting this one tattoo, of the five Dese'Rae sent me. It is, in my opinion, the best of the tattoos she sent me. However, I may post more in the future, with her permission.

It should be noted that the artist behind this tattoo, the aforementioned Ryan Falcon, is based in Miami, Florida and works at Almost Famous Tattoo. Truly spectacular, and worth a second look:

Thanks to Dese'Rae for sharing her amazing tattoo with us here on Tattoosday, as well as sharing the deeply personal story that accompanies it.

Head over to BillyBlog to read one of her poems here.

The Tattooed Poets Project: Moira Egan's Literary Ink, A Little Bit of Ireland, All the Way from Rome

Today's tattoo comes to us from across the Atlantic, contributed by Moira Egan, a poet living in Rome, Italy:



Hers is a literary tattoo. Moira reports, it's:

"A page corner from the Book of Kells (an illuminated manuscript that's housed in Trinity College, Dublin), in this version, housed a couple of inches below my left clavicle. Little Vinnie of Little Vinnie's Tattoos in Maryland is the artist, and this was done on Memorial Day of 1993. In fact, Vinnie was kind enough to open the shop that day for me and my brother and a friend. A good way to Memorialize a day."

Moira added, "since I'm Irish-American, and a writer, well it seemed appropriate".

Indeed, please check out one of Moira's poems, both in English and Italian, over on BillyBlog.

The Tattooed Poets Project: Adam Deutsch's Miltonic Tattoos

Today's tattoos come from Adam Deutsch. We started with this photo:

Photo taken by Lillian Bertram.

A cool photo, and Adam explained the piece:

It's based on a Gustave Doré etching from his interpretations of Milton's Paradise Lost, the lines "He the Almighty Power/ Hurled headlong flaming from the ethereal sky" (I. 44-45) when Lucifer is waging war, before the fall to Hell.


White ink is incorporated in the rain, and on the halo over his head, as he's still an Angel. We've all got something we turn to over and over again; Paradise Lost is always there.

The tattoo was done at Lark Tattoo in Westbury, New York. The artist was Sunday Dawne-Marie.

Despite the awesome nature of this tattoo, I pressed Adam for something more, as it's a bit hard to make out the images of the tattoo in the photo, and I really want to showcase the work.

Our discussion progressed and Adam ended up sending me photos of his leg piece, as well.




Adam points out that this piece, on his right leg, is based on the depiction of Pandemonium, also from Paradise Lost. This is the mock-cathedral in Hell where the fallen angels meet to decide what is next on their agenda:

Mean while the winged Haralds by command
Of Sovran power, with awful Ceremony
And Trumpets sound throughout the Host proclaim
A solemn Councel forthwith to be held
At PandÆmonium, the high Capital
Of Satan and his Peers (lines 752-757)

The detail in the piece is phenomenal:


Adam notes that the two tattoos, both on the right side of his body, "talk to each other....it's a conversation between an angel & devil". He adds that, "in that context, my arm becomes Elijah, fallen, but re-risen."

The arm took about two hours to complete, but the leg took approximately ten hours, in two sittings of four and six hours, respectively, about a month and a half apart. The two pieces seen here are among four "literary" tattoos Adam has. He also has a whole sleeve based on Emerson.

Head over to BillyBlog to check out one of Adam's poems here.

Thanks to Adam for sharing his amazing work with us here on Tattoosday, with a special thanks to Jill Alexander Essbaum (whose literary feet kicked off the Tattooed Poets Project here) for sending Adam our way!

The Tattooed Poets Project: Rachel Mallino's Vine Entwines

Today's tattoo is from Rachel Mallino:

Rachel explains this tattoo:

"This piece was done in the summer of 2001, on a vacation to New York City. A friend and I were walking the Village together and I decided to stop at a random tattoo parlor- unfortunately, the name of the parlor escapes me. I had been playing around with the idea of getting a tattoo on my foot for several reasons, one of them being that the foot was not a popular place to have a tattoo at the time. I wanted something like a vine that symbolized my very unhealthy relationship with my mother, a subject I also write a lot about. I didn’t have anything sketched out, so I approached one of the artists and told her what I wanted. She was able to find a ready-made outline of a vine that looked similar to what I had imagined. I told her to use the outline but directed her in which direction and how I wanted the tat to wrap around my middle toe, up the foot and around my ankle. For the record: it was really painful. Artistically, I don’t think the tattoo is spectacular. Conceptually, I’m pretty pleased. People ask me all the time what it means, and I never tell them. In fact, I haven’t really told you, either."

Thanks to Rachel for sending us this tattoo.

Please head over to BillyBlog to read one of Rachel's poems here.