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| Definitely a Tattoo of the Large Variety. |
In Van’s Halen’s song “Tattoo,” David Lee Roth muses on what
the marks we put on our bodies mean to us.
He mentions some examples, from the whimsical (Elvis, a hula girl,
dragons), to the more concrete (the symbol or number of a particular branch of
the military one served in). He wonders,
“Why is the crazy stuff we’d never say, poetry in ink?”
In Kushiel’s Dart, author Jacqueline Carey hypothesizes a
world populated by the Biblical Nephilim, descendants of both humans and
angels. Phedre is a young woman who was
sold into slavery as a child. She
eventually is trained as a servant of Naamah, which incorporates such diverse
roles as courtesan, scholar, and spy. In
order to win her freedom, she must save up whatever portion of the money she
earns that her master allows her to keep.
She uses this to fund work on a large and complex tattoo. When the completed pattern has been inscribed
upon her body, she will have won her freedom.
For those who get tattoos, their bodies may serve as a
metaphor for how they wish to make their mark upon the world. Most of us confine such energies to success
in our given careers, raising a family, building a fortune, or climbing the
greasy pole of power. Some choose to
make their mark upon the world in a more literal way, by making or funding statues,
or having their names grace important civic structures. Twenty years ago, the artists Christo and his
wife Jeanne-Claude made us see the California Grapevine differently, covered
with yellow umbrellas. Those umbrellas
have long been gone, yet everytime we drive through the Grapevine, I remember
how they transformed the landscape.
Then there are those whose physical and artistic imprint
upon our world is more lasting, such as Thomas Taylor and school master John
Hodgson, who in 1857 led a team of students and volunteers to fashion the
Kilburn Horse.
I cannot imagine the daring of those who created the huge
white horse on the hillside, nor the time and effort involved in fashioning
it. But according to Alf Wight in James
Herriot’s Yorkshire, the village celebrated its completion with two roasted
bullocks and more than a hundred gallons of beer. The giant horse certainly put Kilburn on the
map, and I suspect that’s reason enough for the town to have retained it.
I’m not sure whether I really like the Kilburn Horse any
more than I like the idea of inscribing a tattoo on my skin. On the one hand, the Kilburn Horse seems an
unnecessary blemish upon an otherwise beautiful hillside. Then again, someday I’d like to visit two
distinctive locales in South Dakota. Most
visit Mount Rushmore simply to view the faces of the four American presidents
chiseled into the mountain. I’d like to
visit not only for that reason, but also because of the dramatic final chase
scene set there in Alfred Hitchcock’s film “North by Northwest.” I’d also like to visit the Crazy Horse
Memorial, a monument still being carved out of Thunder Head Mountain. If it’s ever completed, it will become the
world’s largest statue. Every time I
think of it, a chill ripples along my spine: not because of the image being
carved, but because Logan’s climactic fight with his friend Francis takes place
there in the Science Fiction novel Logan’s Run, written by William F.
Nolan and George Clayton Johnson.
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| Who's going to make a saddle for this guy? |
So perhaps such lasting imprints serve an
important purpose. For some, Elvis, Hula
Girls, and Regimental Symbols may epitomize what’s most important in life. Maybe the people of Kilburn wish to
constantly remind themselves of how vital the horse was to the life and health
of their village in earlier times.
Ultimately, it’s not up to me to decide the “rightness” or “wrongness”
of how others mark their bodies or their patch of the world. It’s my job to appreciate those people for
who they are, what they do, and the tremendous diversity they add to our world.
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