Megan Cassidy heads to Argentina’s 8th annual Tattoo Show to meet with organisers, a network of friends who have worked in the industry together for years.

Camera: Celeste Barrera
Editing: Luis Lopez

Miguel Funes, a 35 year-old congressman, representing the Buenos Aires province and activist of the youth movement La Cánpora, tattooed former president Néstor Kirchner’s face in his arm.

“I believe Néstor marked us all, we all have an unforgettable memory of him and I had to have it on my skin,” the politician told Uruguayan newspaper, La República.

“When Néstor was more visible nationally during his electoral campaign for 2003, I started to see an every-day man who was similar to the rest of us and blended in with the people; but I was afraid that we would be ‘defrauded’ again,” Funes recalls.

On the 25^th May of 2003, when Néstor was elected as president, “I went with my wife to Plaza de Mayo and we saw tears of joy from many older people. Today I understand that in Néstor they saw the last possibility to see our nation rise after more than 30 years of being on its knees,” he adds.

Funes will take office next week in the chambers of Congress.

Full Back Tattoo (Photo: Beatrice Murch)

A quick Subte ride or walk down the street will reveal not only the Argentines’ bizarre penchant for shoes that look like cloven hooves, but also their love affair with a longer-lasting fashion statement: tattoos. A myriad of bright designs are sported by young and old, male and female, across all socioeconomic groups. When did the phenomenon of tattoos take off and how did it infiltrate every sector of society?

Diego Staropoli, 39, is an artist from Mandinga tattoo studio in Buenos Aires. “I opened a salon in 1993 but tattoos in Argentina really exploded around 2000 and even more so in the last five years. People see tattooed politicians and sports stars on TV and think, why not me?” It is true that tattoos, once solely associated with punks, bikers and criminals, have permeated mainstream culture to such an extent that seemingly everyone now flaunts them – from Brad Pitt and Beyoncé to Beckham and Britney.

The internet boom means that artists’ work is now not just to be found in specialist magazines; many salons have websites where potential clients can see photos and contact the artists, somewhat demystifying the profession. As tattoos become more commonplace, people are overcoming their fear of the risks associated, which are greatly minimised in hygienic salons with experienced artists. Their popularity has grown to such an extent that the annual Tattoo Show, held at the Bauen Hotel last weekend, drew in some 2000 visitors, a number of whom were families with children. Part of the draw was the presence of big name tattoo artists from North America such as Goethe (Mexico), who specialises in Ancient Mexican patterns, and Paul Booth (USA), famed for his macabre designs in black and grey and tattooist to metal bands such as Slipknot.

Robbie Ice and Diego Staropoli (Photo: Beatrice Murch)

Staropoli first organised the Tattoo Show in Buenos Aires in 2004, having seen the popularity of his friend Robbie Ice’s convention – the first in the country – in Rio Gallegos, Santa Cruz. However, Staropoli was keen that his should be less elitist, more accessible and have more of a show feel, featuring rock bands and a fashion parade, as well as the annual coronation of a Miss Tattoo.

The rooms are abuzz with the whir of needles as punters choose tattoos from a plethora of stands, run by artists from the Bond Street Gallery and much further afield. One such punter is Clémence Barban, 23, from Paris. “I’d been thinking about getting a tattoo for about six months but waited for the right moment to do it. I wanted to choose something personal and I like the meaning behind the Ohm sign. I like discreet tattoos so I had it done on the nape of my neck. Most of the time I can’t see it – I was afraid I’d get tired of it after a few years. I was worried it would hurt but it wasn’t too bad. It stung a bit but it’s definitely bearable and only took twenty minutes.” Clémence notes that, in comparison with France, tattoos cost a third of the price here and that the high number of people with tattoos in Argentina makes it “less shocking.”

Each country has its own attitude to tattoos. Lenny, 45, from Denver, Colorado was “a black sheep in a white collar family” whilst growing up and worked as a body piercer before getting into tattoo art. “In the States, tattoos were part of a surf and skate culture that caught on years ago and is now old hat. It’s exciting to be in South America because it feels like something new is happening. Brazil and Argentina are at the forefront, perhaps because they’re more progressive. Peru is getting there but in Bolivia it’s barely got started.”

The reasons why people get tattoos are many and varied. Salomé Sanjin, 33, is one of the few female artists at the convention. She studied Fine Arts, married a tattoo artist and now has her own studio, Calavera No Chilla (English equivalent: You Play, You Pay). She explains: “It’s a very personal thing – some people get tattoos to remember a loved one or to commemorate a special occasion like a birth or a trip abroad. Some are purely for aesthetic reasons.”

Lenny at work (Photo: Beatrice Murch)

For Lenny, connecting to the customer and understanding where they are coming from is a responsibility that requires much intelligence, contrary to what many believe of the profession. “We have to approach it as a shaman would. We have to know about religion, symbolism and the folklore of other cultures.” In his opinion, the recent surge in spirituality has led to an increase in tattoos as when people see the body as a temporary dwelling for the soul, they care less about what is on it. “People have been decorating their bodies for thousands of years. It’s nothing new. The World War Two veterans all got tattoos but their children, the Baby Boomers, did not. It always goes in waves. Many of the current Generation Y have tattooed parents so perhaps they won’t get end up getting tattoos themselves.”

Whilst the popularity of tattoos may change with future generations, the tattoos themselves will not – since laser removal is painful and expensive, the importance of choosing wisely is paramount. Many artists are asked to cover up old tattoos which are badly drawn or contain names of ex-loved ones. Staropoli’s own first tattoo, a little flower like the guitarist’s from Kiss, was done in the men’s bathroom of a big fruit and vegetable market over twenty years ago. Despite the pain, it would be the first of many. He agrees that tattoos are highly addictive, especially as the quality of designs gets better and better. “Whereas clothes wear out, the skin is a living canvas. I’ve seen some incredible tattoos – they can look like paintings. But what’s good now might seem terrible in twenty years’ time.”

The seventh annual Buenos Aires Tattoo Show was held at Hotel Bauen the weekend of 4th-6th March. This convention pulls in people from all over the world; the Buenos Aires city government even declared it a “tourist event of interest” for 2011. Special guest tattoo artists Paul Booth (US), Goethe (Mexico), Federico Ferroni (US) and others came to ink peoples’ arms, torsos, legs, and heads and people lined up for the chance. Beatrice Murch shares her photographs of the event with our readers.

Body modifications galore

Robbie Ice admiring a woman's full back tattoo

Tattoo machines for sale by Tatuaje Sudaka

Argentina Hells Angels and Demian from La Plata giving a new tattoo

Purses for sale

Passing the time with his Smart Phone while getting his tattoo by Chino

Picking out piercings

Federico Ferroni is known for his japanese outline style, here he applies a tiger tattoo.

Goths walking the halls

A man brought his baby to the show - keeping it all in the family. A woman shows off her tattoo, in the privacy of the women's bathroom.

A woman gets a tattoo from Manuk

Fashion show at the Tattoo convention

Photo by Susannah Bothe

Don’t tell my parents, but I’m thinking about getting a tattoo. Something small, tasteful, on the nape of my neck, so I can reveal and conceal it at will. Something symbolic of my time in Argentina. A friend suggested I get an Argentine flag with the head of Maradona transposed over it. With a skull and ‘te quiero mami’ across the top. Or not.

Whatever I decide to get, I’m quite excited about it. I haven’t always wanted a tattoo. After all, they are a bit scary. A bit… permanent. I was brought up being taught that any kind of bodily modification was to be absolutely avoided; clearly I’m going through some late-blooming rebellious phase. I have some other reasons, however, for wanting to get ‘inked’.

Forgive my generalising – journalistic and rhetorical needs must – but since I’ve been in Argentina I have noticed that literally everyone has a tattoo. Not just the hippies who sell you beads on Florida; your local kiosquero will have one, your bank clerk, your roommate, your boss. Even The Argentina Independent’ esteemed editor has one – although I won’t tell you where (guesses on a postcard).

If you’ve spied someone with a tattoo in Buenos Aires, it is more than likely that they got it in Bond Street. Bond Street in Buenos Aires, unlike its London cousin, is a galería – a shopping centre on Av. Santa Fe. On the outside, it looks very similar to all the other gleaming shrines to consumerism along the road, selling same-old tat to the skinny and skinnier. Walk into the dingy interior, however, and you’ll find that Bond Street is different. A labyrinthine maze of stairs leads you to three different levels on which you can find pretty much anything you want – if you like the colour black, Hello Kitty, or bodily mutilation, that is.

La Galería Bond Street, or ‘La Bond’, as the kids are calling it, is an ‘alternative’ shopping centre, and it is, for want of a better word, very cool.

Graffiti covers every inch of wall. A bondage shop flaunts its wares next to a store selling punky Hello Kitty merchandise – along with bongs, pipes and filter papers. Decorated skateboards cover another window display. There’s even a retro toy shop, where you can get everything from vintage Smurf masks to Bride of Chucky-esque toy dolls still in their plastic wrapping.

Photo by Susannah Bothe

The overriding theme of the clothing on offer is definitely black with overtones of melancholia and a bit more black. I spy a t-shirt emblazoned with ‘I don’t like you’ on the front. No wonder this place is packed with teenagers. Bond Street is a shrine to clichéd teenage angst and all the self-involved negativity that goes with it – brilliant!

Go up the short escalators – ever so slightly unnerving as one does feel as if ascending into hell itself – and find yourself confronted by the darker (if that’s possible) side of Bond Street – Dominatrix Mandragora – a one-stop-shop for all your kinkiest needs. Leather, whips, spikes, leashes (yeah, leashes); this place has it all.

Whatever you’re into, La Bond will have something right up your alley. Tearing myself away from the knee-high patent leather lace-up platform boots in the fetish shop, I particularly liked the bookstore that hosts a plethora of titles to please the unconventional – everything from ‘The Anarchist’s Cookbook’ (because gourmet cooking was of course invented by fascists), to ‘A Compendium of Modern Rock’.

Indeed, your alternative shopping experience is usually accompanied by the strains of rock, both hard and soft, pumped through these labyrinthine halls. Amongst the guitar solos and the screaming, however, comes a rather less savoury sound – the buzz of tattoo needles against skin.

There are more tattoo salons here than you can crack a whip at. The graffiti on the walls usually shares pride of place with photos of extraordinary artwork by the plethora of tattooists who call Bond Street home.

Photo by Susannah Bothe

A girl winces as her boyfriend gets his tongue pierced. A gaggle of teenagers gather round and watch their friend get a colour top-up on an old tattoo. An art student gets a Ruben painting etched onto his arm. All in a day’s work for Jorge Lesme and his colleagues at Master Tattoo Salon.

In between sessions, Jorge sits in a leather chair and people pop into the shop, asking him questions, showing him their tattoos, design ideas, asking to be shown piercing options – he’s a guru, allowing people an audience with him whenever he deems fit.

Master Tattoo has been in business for 14 years, but has been operating in Bond Street only for the last six – the original shop is still open in Pompeya. They moved to Bond Street because it was simply the place to be.

I ask one of Jorge’s colleagues what he prefers doing, tattoos or piercings. “Oh I only do piercings.” Why not tattoos? I ask, half expecting some deep psychological aversion on principal to the idea of ‘scarring yourself’. “I can’t draw,” he answers simply. Duh. Of course tattooing actually involves a fair amount of artistic skill; Jorge studied fine art for five years before he learnt to become a tattooist.

I ask Jorge about his own tattoos – he says he’s got one on the front of his thighs that he did himself, and then a few more. I ask him if he has a favourite tattoo that he’s done on somebody else. “The last one,” he replies. “It’s always the last one I’ve just done.”

Bearing in mind my own recent desire to get a tat, I try and probe deeper, asking Jorge what he thinks about tattooing in general. He dries up a bit at this point – not that he had been exactly overflowing with information during the interview – ever the brooding artista. So I start asking my friends who have tattoos. One doesn’t particularly like hers, and actually thinks they are a bit common. Another has a beautiful minimalist picture of birds in flight across her back – which represents her and her sisters as they were, quite literally, leaving the nest and going off to other places in the world.

Photo by Susannah Bothe

And then I hear my mother’s voice. What are you going to tell your grandchildren? Do you really want to tell them ‘I had an amazing life affirming experience up a temple when I was 18 which is why I got this picture of a dog on my shoulder??’ She has a point. Scarring yourself voluntarily doesn’t really compare with how Grandad still has a bit of shrapnel in his skull from when he was busy getting trenchfoot trying to fight off the Germans in’t war.

Ok, so maybe getting a tattoo is ridiculous, but why do I still want one?

I know it sounds pathetic, and before you all rear up and starting telling me so, I should advise that this is not the only reason – I want one because I think they’re cool.

I like the idea of having something interesting on your skin that lasts forever – you wouldn’t begrudge someone a birthmark, would you? So this is just my picking a birthmark. I don’t even tan so I can’t change my skin in any other way. I still want to keep it discreet, and I don’t necessarily want to see it every time I look in the mirror; I like the idea of having it as a secret.

I’m still not getting an Argentine flag, though.

La Galeria Bond Street, Av Santa Fe 1670

Master Tattoo: Local 16B y Local 23 subsuelo, Gal. Bond Street, Tel: 4813-1331, www.mastertattoo.com.ar, jorgemastertattoo@hotmail.com