Lemme See the Whole Thing

For the past few weeks I've been thinking about this summer, if I would continue this project, and how I'd manage it if I did. It was one thing to use this as a filter for my interactions, and interesting to see the results. It's completely different to know and anticipate the results. The past two days have made that very clear.

Sunday evening I was on the train after meeting an author I greatly admire. I was laughing at the illustration he drew beside his autograph, when my slightly drunk, but very friendly seatmate initiated a conversation about my sleeve and her fears of getting tattooed. "So it begins. May 23, 1 interaction," I thought as we were talking. Yesterday I was waiting for the train downtown, trying to read a paper when someone yelled from across the platform: “HEY! You work in a tattoo shop?” I kept reading; he repeated the question and walked over. “That tattoo go all the way up your arm? Roll up your sleeve. Lemme see the whole thing.” I tried to be polite, but I was talking through clenched teeth. Less than an hour later, in one of my favorite thrift stores, a woman said she loved my tattoo, but couldn’t get any more because of a heart condition. Then she ran her hand down my arm and said to a little boy “Look at her arm. Isn’t it pretty?” She apologized for touching me while she was still holding my arm. Outside the store she asked who did my work.

From August 4th until September 10th last year I maintained this blog. I spent four days in San Francisco and three days covered because it was cold. So in roughly a month I logged 59 interactions. Guess what kiddies? It’s only the first two days of short sleeve weather, and it’s not even June. If last year’s numbers and my remedial math are accurate, I’m going to talk to nearly 200 strangers this summer.

I like summer. Hell, I live for summer. I make up errands to give myself a destination, so I can get out of my stuffy apartment, walk and feel the sun. I know, most people are polite, most people are friendly, but really, I just want to run my errands in fucking peace and not have to wonder when a stranger will touch me.
It makes me nervous. It makes me feel mean inside. I don't like feeling mean.

Today I went to another thrift store and bought several lightweight long-sleeve shirts. Unbuttoned, with a tank top, only a few of my chest tattoos are visible, and they’re not that impressive. The shirts are fairly loose, and the sleeves will protect the ink. In camo cargo shorts two sizes too big, tank top, shirt, and beat-up Docs, the only comment anyone made to me today was a guy who actually said “Hey sweetheart, how you doing?”

Did I really look like his fucking sweetheart?

9/9/09 0 interactions, Thank you and thoughts on winding down

I really appreciate everyone who's followed this and offered encouragement. Thank you. I'd originally said I'd keep this project going as long as the weather allowed, but I realized with the semester amping up, and a few new committments, I probably won't have much more time to devote to it. So I think I'll wrap it up for now. There will be more to follow; I'm just not entirely sure what.

9/8/09 4 interactions

"That's a really neat tattoo." Caucasian female bank teller, early/mid 20's, downtown, pointing to scarification.
"Thank you."*
"How did you do it? White ink?"
"Yep, and it seems to be holding up pretty well."
"Is it new?"
"No, I've had it for several years."
(she then informs me the bank manager is busy, finishes what she can of my transaction, then encourages me to apply for a different credit card).

I actually started this next exchange by smiling and saying hello to a young woman (African-american, late teens) waiting at a bus stop downtown, who I mistook for a former co-worker (who changes her hairstyle more often then I do) because she was looking at me.
"Oh my god, Wow! Is that real?!" (motioning to tattoo)
"Yes."
"Wow! It's so bright!" She rushes over, grabs my arm and twists it. I hang on to the half-eaten apple I'm holding, with difficulty. She murmers exclamations and asks who did it, did it hurt, etc. and her friend (African-american male, late teens) joins her.
"Damn, I thought that was a real tattoo."
(female) "It IS real!"
"Really, wow! I thought it was like a shirt or something when you was walkin' by! Who did it?"(he then proceeds to ask me the same questions). Another man (Caucasian, 40's?) walks by.
"Hey, is that real?"
(Three of us in unison) "Yes!"**
(Caucasian male walking away) I've got a friend who can do that. He learned it in prison!
(Me) Everyone needs a hobby!
(The three of us laugh)
(African-american male) "Damn, that's something! I ain't never seen anything like that."
"Well, anything's possible, and you're still pretty young."
"I gotta get to California."
"I hope you do, I think you'd like it. I gotta get going, you guys have a good night."

*Usually if people assume the scarification is a tattoo, I let them becuase it's much, much, easier than explaining the difference, especially if I don't have time (or I'm trying to be responsible and make a deposit and cancel a credit card.)

**Seriously, I swear to god this actually happened.

9/7/09 1 interaction

*muffled words and gestures.*

(Removing earbuds) "Excuse me?"

"Wow girl, that's some sweet ink!" Caucasian male, early 20's, Red Line El platform.

"Oh, thank you."

"Yeah, I just started outlining my ribs yesterday. It's going allll the way down the side." (makes sweeping motion along torso) I've got one more sitting for the outline, then I'm filling it in."

"What re you getting? Something tribal?"

"Oh no, It's Pink Floyd's The Wall logo."

"Reeealy?" (trying not to laugh)

"Yeah! But I'm getting all the bricks in the background too!" (leaves to board train on opposite platform) "But yeah! rock that ink!"

"Thanks man, you too!"

9/6/09 4 interactions

"Mornin.'" Caucasian male, 60's? walking dog near my house.

"Mornin,'" (smiling at man and dog.)

"Nice tattoo."

"Thank you."

It was chilly out, so I wore a sweatshirt for the rest of the day. The following interaction I'd initially considered to be one of the dumbest and most confusing questions ever, but the interaction later in the day actually clarified what the inquiry may have referred to.

"Excuse me, miss, your ears--did they have to start out smaller to get to that size?" African-american male, 20's?, library elevator.*

"Excuse me? I'm afraid I don't understand what you're asking."

"Did your ears have to start out smaller before they got that big?"

"Yes." I exited the elevator thinking "What the hell? Of course they had to start small. Doesn't everything that gets bigger have to first be smaller? That's like, Sesame Street 101..."

"Did you have to stretch your ears to get them that big, or did you pierce them that size?" Asian female, late teens/early 20's, video store (friend of clerk from 8/9 post)

"Oh no, I stretched them out from a regular earring," (thinking "Oh shit! That must've been what that guy earlier was trying to ask!")

"Did it hurt?"

"No, it doesn't hurt if you stretch slowly and gently."

"How long did it take?" Hispanic female, 20s? 30s? customer joining in conversation.

"About five years to get to this size."

"Wow...to each their own. (to clerk) Hey, do you have this in?"

"Thanks again guys, have a good night."

*A few posts ago, I offhandedly commented that nobody asks me about my ears when I wear long sleeves. Since that post, it's happened five times.

9/5/09 3 interactions

(All taking place in the same coffee shop within an hour)

"Wow, that's beautiful! Can I see the rest of it?" Caucasian male barrista, 20's (pointing to sleeve)

"Ok" (roll up sleeve)

"Oh my god, it's Sandman!"

"Yeah! From Issue 50!"

"That's incredible!"

"Thanks! I had a bunch of jeweled microdermals implanted in it, but I removed them a few months ago*"

"Well, it's still beautiful."

"Thank you."

"Wow, can I get a better look at your arm?" Middle Eastern Man, 30's. (interrupting my work)

"Yeah, ok." (roll up sleeve)

"How long did that take?"

"Several years off and on, but most of it was done in a year and half."

"Did it hurt?"

"Parts of it. The wrist, inner and outer elbow hurt most."

"Well it's unbelievable."

"Thank you. I'm very proud of it. You have a nice day." (return to what I was working on.)

"Can I see your arm?" Caucasian female, 50's. (interrupting my work)

"Ok."

"How long did that take?"

(see answer above)

"Did it hurt?"

(see answer above)

"Wow, I've always wanted a tattoo, but I don't think I could. I've always been curious about what it takes to get to that point." (motioning to sleeve).

"It's a journey." (laugh) "You have a nice day now" (return to work)

*A few people have asked why I took the derms out (see picture). The ones I installed for eyes never fully healed, and I suspect it was because they were set too close together (2mm jewelry 2mm apart). The other four I removed because they'd occasionally get 'weepy', and honestly, I was tired of just having to be so careful and protective of my arm all the time. Only after I removed them did I realize how much I favored it. In retrospect, I'm glad I took them out; I honestly don't think I'd have the patience to handle the attention they generate. I may get them installed again, but after I leave Chicago.

9/4/09 0 interactions