Intersection

Inking outside the box

Tattoos: now commitment-free

Greg Beato

Throughout history, tattoos have been only slightly less permanent than herpes or a student loan, and many connoisseurs of ass-butterflies and the like believe that’s exactly how it should be. Other interested parties know a potential gold mine when they see it, however, and drunken teens who want to express the creativity and individuality of their local dragon-stenciler—until they start aspiring to middle management, that is—are no doubt the mother of all mother lodes.

Thus, the thriving tattoo-removal industry and its latest innovation, permanent tattoo ink that isn’t really permanent. Dye pigments are coated in a plastic, biodegradable shell, and then injected into the flesh like so many microscopic M&Ms: When tattoo regret kicks in, a single laser treatment obliterates the plastic, and the body expels the pigments once contained in it. In contrast, traditional tattoos can take as many as 15 sessions to remove.

So what was once nearly impossible, and then possible but costly, painful and time-consuming, is now as easy as a manicure or a haircut.

This is great news for bank robbers, of course, who will now get distracting facial tattoos before they pull off big heists, then have them removed before slipping off to a life of affluent obscurity in Tahiti while the whole world looks for the guy with a miniature mural of poker-playing dogs emblazoned on his forehead.

The new ink should also revolutionize tattoo advertising. Currently, corporations pay hefty fees to sabotage their brands by eternally yoking them to desperate human billboards who rank just below plasma-selling bums on the aspirational role-model scale. The practice persists because its exploitative quality usually guarantees lots of free media coverage—but that will end now that the novelty’s gone. In this case, though, the downside’s also an upside: Inventory will expand dramatically now that permanent tattoos are no longer permanent, and the visibility and cachet of the real estate will skyrocket, too. Or to put it another way, little Sean and little Jayden will be able to afford Harvard when the time comes, even if their mother never has another hit record; the space on Britney Spears’ ass just got very marketable.

More important than that, however, is the new ink’s potential to rescue tattoos from the crypt of pretension and make them truly meaningful. A couple of decades ago, what was once a colorful, practical way for drunken sailors to blow off Mother’s Day obligations for life got upgraded to high, holy art. Now, tattoo-lovers are as tedious as wine snobs and jazz purists (minus the pleasure of a buzz or a backbeat) as they discourse on the shamanistic significance and commanding draftsmanship of their new Tweety Bird back piece.

In this hyper-disposable world of endless ephemeral distractions, fetishizing commitment to a principle, a person or a creepy wingless cartoon “bird” is no doubt a noble idea. But just because you’re willing to go through life with Tweety despoiling your shoulder blades, does that make you more serious or highly evolved than someone who will only commit to henna? Or does it simply expose your disregard for free will, introspection, open-mindedness?

To prove he was truly “God’s eunuch,” Mahatma Gandhi didn’t chop off his peace wand; he bedded down with his naked, nubile human comforters each night to fully test his vow of chastity. Similarly, a tattoo that’s only as permanent as a single trip to the laser salon will challenge a person’s devotion much more than one that cannot be disposed of so easily.

If a temporary permanent tattoo lasts a lifetime, through the waxings and wanings of one’s passion for whatever inspired it in the first place—even though it could be expunged easily, instantly, mindlessly—that is an act of faith that transcends compulsory, skin-deep loyalty programs and commands true respect!

Unless you’re a politician determined to avoid the flip-flopper label, there are few ideas that deserve indelible fidelity. Temporary permanent tattoos acknowledge this and let us act accordingly. We can experiment, discover, grow and lend more gravitas to our enthusiasms than a T-shirt with a funny slogan provides, but not so much as a bumper-sticker.

If you find the flexibility of the new tattoo order unduly disturbing, take heart. Even specimens lasered into oblivion won’t disappear entirely. These days, every new tattoo gets its own webpage, and invariably, the most regrettable ones (and thus the greatest candidates for future deletion) are also the most thoroughly documented.

Scientists have yet to invent a laser that’s strong enough to vaporize a Google cache; it’s unlikely that they ever will.

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