Vanishing Tattoo --
Trip Updates
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Tom and I stagger out of the airport in Sydney. Crossing Australia at 39,000 feet had been fascinating, for huge swaths of distance there had been nothing below but red rock and sand. But right now I'm ready for bed. We catch a taxi in to town. The weather is overcast and gray, the temperature cool. This is actually a relief after the sauna in Bangkok. The taxi driver is an engaging woman and she tells us the weather has been unseasonably damp. I don't mind a bit. Thomas loves Australia. Loves Australians. He has lots of old friends in Sydney. We're ready for a few days of rest and relaxation before heading off to New Zealand and Samoa. Tom heads for his old haunts in Kings Crossing. Kings Crossing is a bit of a shock for Thomas. He hadn't expected to be quite so...colourful. But we grab a room at a reasonable price and crash onto our respective mattresses for a couple of hours of shuteye. Thomas whips out his trusty address book and begins looking up names. At our first stop we meet Tony and his crew at The Illustrated Man in Sydney. He and Thomas go back many years and share a love of competitive pistol shooting, tattoos and an old school ethic when it comes to ink. I don't think either Tony or Thomas can quite believe the explosion in popularity of tattoos in the West. And neither one is a particular fan of the fringe element know as "modern primitive" - those who tattoo their face, do implants and compete for the biggest bone through their nose and most bizarre body modification - like split tongues and earlobes down to your ass. It all kind of screams "look at me". And for most serious tattoo artists and enthusiasts it harkens back to the days of the freaks in the circus side-shows. One way to make a living I guess. But for many of the "old school" tattoo artists it detracts from the huge efforts they've spent over the past few decades to have tattooing taken seriously and not dismissed as a freak show. Not that's there's anything wrong with those who yearn to freaks of course. Tony said he had hundreds and hundreds of clients at the Olympics, a line up of customers that snaked out the door and around the block. Tony's shop had even tattooed lots of the Olympic athletes. His son Brett had the brilliant idea of offering on television a free tattoo to any Olympic athlete of any country who won a medal. There was of course huge publicity for the shop. Thomas asks Tony and some of the other tattoo artists in the shop if they know of any Samoan tattoo artists working in Australia or perhaps New Zealand. One artist, Lucky Bastard, gives us the name of a Maori to contact when we're in New Zealand. But other than that, not much luck. If you're ever in Sydney and you want some serious ink, do check out Tony and Brett's shop. They have guest artists from all over the world and they have an excellent reputation. The shop itself is a sight worth seeing. THE ILLUSTRATED MAN TATTOO STUDIO We meet up with Trish Beckers who will be our guide around Sydney, although Thomas has been here may times before. Trish knows all the ins and outs and is a talented tattoo artist in her own right. She has been canvassing a lot of the local tattoo shops for us ahead of time, trying to get us some leads for Samoan and Maori tattoo artists. When Trish asks if there's anything she do for us, I simply reply, feed us. This is unquestionably one of the best parts of the day. Trish takes us to a grill specializing in steaks and we tuck into some serious pieces of beef. It's been over a month since I've had steak this good. Tom is in a celebratory mood and we crack open a few incredibly decent bottles of wines. The Cabernet we try is great but the Merlot we finish with is, in a word, spectacular. Tonight I will sleep like a baby... |
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