I was working on my blogger publishing platform, marveling that I have published over 1700 posts on Tattoosday over the years, when I noticed that I have 23 drafts that have yet to see the light of day, or are just sitting there, functioning some way.
I decided to purge these old semi-posts, but thought I would give them life in a mass post or two (or three or four).
Like this unadorned post from May 2010, called NYC Tattoo Convention: A Snapshot:
Last year when I attended the New York City Tattoo Convention, I was awed by the spectacle of it. My inkspotting brain overloaded as I processed the data before me and, despite many people expecting a flurry of posts, I wrote one dispatch and only photographed three people and reported on those here and here on Tattoosday.
This year, I approached it differently. My lovely wife Melanie joined me, and I hoped to introduce her to several people I have met through my inkblogging experience. I also enjoyed observing her closely as she was the recipient of the overstimulating organized chaos of the event. And despite our combined reverence for the art, our combined ten tattoos seemed collectively paltry when compared to visions of sleeve after sleeve, chest pieces, back pieces, and full body suits.
Acknowledging that it is impossible to fairly "cover" a three-day event when we hung out for only 3-4 hours, I offer up a snapshot, rather than a recap.
As for the typical Tattoosday tell-me-about-it-post, I only collected photos from one attendee, whose amazing work is here.
Upon arrival, we did a few loops, checking out the various booths, artists, and attendees.
Of note were the artists at Sacred Tattoo. Picasso and Lalo were finishing up sketching an immense octopus on the back and shoulder of a convention-goer. He would eventually get some of the piece completed, as the two artists tattooed him simultaneously.
We were also drawn in by the two artists from Japan who were not only tattooing, but they were using traditional equipment. This is always a big hit at the convention, and generally draws a crowd throughout the day as the clients lay on the floor, barely flinching at the repeated penetration of the needles. Gawkers flinch for them enough. But it's still an inspiring site to see a generations-old art practiced in person.
I could fill a month or two with dispatches from Roseland if I wanted to. But I don't. Imagine, I go everywhere with my little Polaroid digital camera, just to be prepared to take a picture of someone's tattoo. Yet, put me in a convention hall where it's hard to find someone without ink, and I exercise a form of abstinence. The phrase shooting fish in a barrel comes to mind.
Before taking the one set of photos I couldn't resist (Greg and his sharks here), Melanie and I stopped by to say hello to Marisa from Needles & Sins, working at the Father Panik booth. We checked out her new foot tattoo and, while chatting, the woman who had been, hours earlier, under Dan DiMattia's needle, stopped by to say hello, her right thigh swathed in cellophane as a traditional post-tattoo dressing.
Di Mattia's tribal-style black work popped out visually even under the plastic wrap and we just stood and admired how beautifully done it was.
So, it was a relatively short stint at the Convention this year, but well worth the price of admission.
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Obviously, pictures would have been nice, which is why this was relegated to the dustbin of Tattoosday archives.