Tattoo or not tattoo?

I love tattoos, even though I don't have any myself. I'm fascinated by the drawings on all kinds of bodies in all kinds of places and I like it when tattooed people tell me the stories behind their little works of art. Because that's exactly what a tattoo is in most cases: A reminder of a special experience, a loved one or a deceased pet.

Because of my fascination with skin art and its development over time - in terms of shapes, colours and the internal and external effect - I naturally visited the INK* exhibition, which can be seen at the Musée Visionnaire until 2 March 2025.

I'm visiting the exhibition with my sister, who is also untattooed. As far as I know.

The exhibition begins with a huge banner full of individualised tattoo pre-stages. My sister studies the drawings and asks in consternation: "A mayonnaise tube? Who would get a tattoo like that?". I clear my throat and mumble the name of another sister. We giggle: "Right, hahaha, go figure!"

The exhibition begins with Herbert Hofmann, a forefather of tattoo art. He ran Hamburg's first tattoo parlour, which was simply called the oldest tattoo parlour in Germany. Hoffmann was very committed to recognising the art, including with his tattoo machine, which he had mass-produced and which could be purchased from him. His tattoos are classic and colourful, just as I imagine them on a sailor from the 1950s. With further insights into various Swiss tattoo artists, the exhibition subliminally asks what art is. Which tattoos are artistic, which are not? Who is the owner of a tattoo? The artist or the tattooed person? Is the tattooed body a kind of gallery and the tattooed person its curator?

A real explosion of colour awaits us at the end: it is the mural by Austrian artist Fritz Hortig, who - although left-handed - draws with his weaker right hand and without a template! He also tattoos and does so in the same way as his murals: Hortig decides what to tattoo ad hoc in dialogue with his customers. And if he goes off track or something doesn't turn out as he intended, it's no big deal. My sister and I are shocked at first, but then we come to the (perhaps exclusively family-internal, logical) realisation that this would actually be the most honest kind of tattoo.

The exhibition sticks with us, even though we didn't even spend an hour there. I've always been fascinated by tattoos, but there are also people who categorically reject them. I don't understand that, but I don't have to. I remember Herbert Hoffmann's plea for tolerance, which can be seen in the exhibition: