Friday, 15 November 2013

Tattoo Art, a Singular Unselfconsciousness


I well recall how, in my teens, I confided to my mother that I was worried sick about an interview with a Careers Officer the next day because I couldn’t make up my mind what I wanted to be when I left school. She just shrugged and said, ‘Try being yourself and you won’t go far wrong.’ She was right, of course, but that was hard for me to admit at the time since I wasn’t being myself at all as being gay was still a criminal offence. I’ve tried to make up for it since.

Love it or hate it, most people are inclined to nurse a secret envy of tattoo art in so far as it conveys an unselfconsciousness that speaks for the self which, without meaning any offence, refuses to pussyfoot around or participate in the socio-cultural-religious sensibilities of others.

Every art form, of course, attempts the same.

TATTOO ART, A SINGULAR UNSELFCONSCIOUSNESS

I’m not the sort to strut
sidewalks alongside the latest
fashion clones

I prefer to speak plainly,  
no making a stab at diplomacy  
with awful clich├ęs

I’ll not vote for the party
least likely to keep pre-election 
promises

I have never been in awe
of celebrities who love to preen
on camera

I like to call a spade a spade;
a ‘digging implement’ impresses
no one

I rejected religion years ago;
nature lends me a growing sense    
of spirituality

I love to share word patterns;  
as tattoos to the body, so art forms
to the mind
  

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

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