Chinese rethink ink

Society's view of tattoos is changing rapidly, morphing from stigmatizing marks of deviance to acceptable decoration

He Wenqian is a portrait of how tattoos' image has changed in China. The tattoo artist says Chinese who got inked when he started his studio in 2002 not only were stereotyped as freaks and outlaws - they often were. Now, people from all walks of life, especially among the younger generation, are getting tattoos.

He says more "elites" are getting inked. His customers today include businesspeople, professional athletes and bank clerks. "A few years ago, I wouldn't dare tell people what I did for a living," He recalls.

"Now, it's a great conversation starter."

Not only are the demographics of getting tattoos diversifying but so are the images.

"People work with artists to create custom designs that express their personal stories," He says. "It's a whole different picture now."

Traditional subjects' allusions are changing, too. Dragons, pheonixes and Chinese ghosts remain the most popular. They used to be symbols of intimidation among street fighters. Now, they're simply auspicious icons.

"In the late 1990s and early 2000s, men who had these tattoos believed these patterns would make them look tougher and used different designs to indicate associations with social groups," China Association of Tattoo Artists chairman Wang Qingyuan explains.

"Now, they're just good luck emblems."

Women are more likely to get images of birds and flowers rendered in softer lines and brighter colors, Wang says.

English initials of names and quotes are increasingly prevalent. Some clients want to commemorate special moments, loved ones and parents by inking their initials on their bodies, He says.

Still, many among the younger generation hide their tattoos from their elders.

Chen Qimei, 34, a mother and website editor, says she conceals her tattoo from her mother-in-law.

"I accidently exposed it to her once and told her it was only temporary," Chen says.

"But I'm more open-minded. I'd certainly let my child get a tattoo. Still, I'd warn her it's a lifelong decision that she should carefully consider."

Her first tattoo in 2005 was not about stylistic expression but rather to cover a scar on her left knee from a childhood accident.

"I really hated my scar," she says.

One day, she noticed several tattoo shops in Beijing's Longfusi area.

"The idea of covering the scar with a tattoo came to me," she recalls.

Her first tattoo experience wasn't as positive as her second and third.

"It hurt," she says.

"That artist didn't sterilize my skin or even wear gloves. For a long time, I worried I'd contracted HIV."

Later, after her fears of disease were allayed, she thought the rose on her kneecap could "attract more attention".

"Not so many people were familiar with tattoos as art in 2005," she recalls.

"People would stare at me when I walked on the street. They must have thought: 'Why does this quiet, good girl have a tattoo on her knee?'"

Few would think anything of it today.

He, the tattooist, says many people wander into his two-story studio in Beijing's trendy Sanlitun area after mistaking it for a teahouse or traditional art gallery because of its classy interior. The spacious area has a painting table in the center and artistic tattoo paintings and photos on the walls.

The 35-year-old ranks among the industry's pioneers. He now owns studios in Shanghai and Yunnan province's capital Kunming, and employs dozens of full-time artists.

Like most Chinese tattooists, He is self-taught. He developed an interest when inking doodles on willing friends at age 9.

"I was lucky enough to have buddies who let me experiment on their skin with sewing needles dipped in ink," he recalls.

"Then, in the early 1990s, tattooed eyebrows became popular and I started using a machine."

That device wasn't a professional tattoo needle but rather a permanent makeup pen powered by an AC adapter.

"Things were slow when China's tattoo business became an industry at the end of the 1990s," He recalls.

"Artists weren't experienced and had to teach themselves."

He opened his Beijing studio in 2002, after art school.

The industry now employs more than 1 million artists, and that number is expected to grow, the China Association of Tattoo Artists reports. The figure includes cosmetic artists, who tattoo eyeliner, lipstick and blush.

The Internet has contributed greatly to tattoos' social accepibility. Studios like He's are active on China's social networks, such as Sina Weibo, Douban and Renren.

But the government has not yet acknowledged, let alone regulated, the industry, He says.

"Tattooists must rely on their own knowledge of hygiene and safety," He explains.

But authorities will likely develop laws as the sector grows with tattoos' popularity.

"Some youth still hide their tattoos from their parents and teachers," He says.

"But young people's minds will continue to open in pace with the economy."

gantian@chinadaily.com.cn

(China Daily Africa Weekly 12/06/2013 page24)