Located at 357 Zi Zhong Lu (a five minute walk from the Huang Pi Nan Lu metro stop) the shop is small but cozy. Ting's drawings - she does all the actual tattooing - line the walls. Dylan, a stocky man with a constant impish grin welcomes the customers. He talks fast and animately; he doesn't just answer questions, he jumps at them. He did web design in Ireland for five years before "career burnout" took him to Harbin. He learned to speak Chinese there and now he does freelance design on the side along with helping Ting run their shop. He's a man who has found happiness in an unlikely place and seems to know how lucky he is.

Ting is a bit younger than Dylan. When he says that she is "not the typical cutesy Chinese girl" it's an understatement. With her hair in a bright green Mohawk (worn down and tied into a ponytail at the back when I met her), and her lower lip pierced with three spikes that jut down nearly to her chin, it's hard not to look at her.

There are tattoos peeking out from under her shirt in all directions. On her hands and neck you can see the tips of much larger tattoos, and she tells me about the ones I can see, she tells me about the ones that I can't see and the ones that she hopes to get soon. And yet, she is not imposing in any way. For all of her eye-catching alternativeness, her easy smile and obvious warmth are just as plain.

Before Dylan and Ting left Harbin, she was operating a shop of her own, a small but busy establishment that made her a comfortable living. Alongside her business she ran a website with a message board for Chinese with alternative tastes and appearances. She was a local celebrity who regularly turned heads when she walked down the street.
But, as Dylan describes it, Harbin is a "small country town of nine million people." Despite their success they were bored there. Besides, while it might have been Ting's appearance that made her famous, it was her ability as a tattoo artist that won her a loyal customer base. An ambidextrous calligrapher, Ting has been drawing her entire life. It was only after she dropped out of the Art course at Harbin Normal University (too boring she says) that she took up tattooing. Moving to the more metropolitan Shanghai was a natural step for a young artist with a desire to grow and test her mettle.

The couple saved for a year, and though rent is ten times higher in Shanghai than in Harbin, "so far so good" says Dylan. His theory is that most people think about getting a tattoo at some point in their life, and he and Ting's job is to "be available to people when they finally decide to do it." They've done everything that they can to make that decision as easy as possible. They bought a special reclining chair for their customers, and you won't find a softer sell anywhere in Shanghai. "Okay is not good enough," says Dylan. "We completely realize that this is going to be with you for the rest of your life, and you have to be happy with it first." He and Ting are more than willing to work with the customer on a design until he or she is completely satisfied.

Of course, a tattoo is not for everyone. They are painful to get (though it depends on the person as to how painful it seems) and in some cases quite costly. And unlike in the United States where it seems that everyone wants a tattoo now, in China tattoos are still fairly uncommon and stigmatized; many people have the idea that "tattoos are only for criminals," says Dylan. Ultimately the success of the shop will be related to how much they can overcome that stereotype and attract the more casual customer.

Dylan tells a story about a couple that came into the shop to get matching tattoos. As they were having the work done they were whispering to each other about how they would have to cover themselves or lie about the tattoos when they had children. "Oh come on," he thought. "You made the decision to do it, now at least be proud of it."

Shanghai Tattoo
Address: 357 Zi Zhong Lu.
Website: www.shanghaitattoo.com