Like drawing... on yourself

Today, a day of worry for all. Well, in actuality, not for all but just mainly for myself. This worry somewhat subsided after I turned over my potentially degree-defining exam paper on Britain and the End of Empire at 09:15 AM to find that it was not that bad at all! However, the strain of three hours pretty much non-stop writing has kind of crippled my right-hand for the rest of the day. However, I am still able to type with said hand, and therefore thought that I would blog on a topic of two issues, as follows...

I have been holed up in the University of East Anglia's library facilities for the past three weeks, and whilst revising, have often found myself bored. One act of boredom prompted this rather heraldic crest-like image involving my initials, year of birth, and some pirate related imagery, which has no bearing on my life whatsoever. I used a black Pilot V5 High Tech point 0.5 pen and the finest twenty-one and a half year old hand flesh - for anyone interested in materials. 

Basically, this made me think about the art of the tattoo and tattoo-ing, whether they are indeed an art form?! I know that such a topic can draw divisions in many a household - not to mention my own avec mes parents. I often flutter and flirt with the idea, but have not, as of yet committed directly to any permanent markings. I mean I personally think that if I were to undertake this treatment, it would have be a purposeful, meaningful and artistic/aesthetically pleasing image. Is this what a tattoo should be?

The second issue with personal defacement is this - the issue that it is generally not socially acceptable. I mean I suppose we should accept anyone and everyone for who they are? However, we all know that deep down (maybe not so deep for some) we are all judgmental bastards! For instance, I went to work the other day at the SCVA basically stuffing envelopes for 5 hours. That aside, when I got into the Crescent Wing I saw the receptionist, a bloke in his mid-20's. This is a minor detail. But, what was not so un-noticeable were the two giant sleeves of artwork strewn down both his arms, starting from his shoulders one would assume. 

I thought whoaa they are really cool. But then I thought pretty much instantly after, 'how the hell did he get a job here with those invasive tattoo's?' - there it was, the social judgment. I carried on this line of thought to presume that as it was an Art Centre that it would be wrong to not give him the job, as his sleeves were quite beautiful really. But there I went again, judging. For all I know he could be massively intellectual with a lot to offer, a really clever guy??

Well anyway, I should not ponder on such thoughts. I mean thats not to say that every tattoo in the world is nice. However, I suppose that is down to personal preference. It could be quite feasible that someone loves that fact that they have a picture of Taz the lovable Tasmanian Devil on their forearm?! Not for me! But sure, why not think about it?