Spanish depiction of the tattoos (patik) of the Visayan Pintados ("the painted ones") of the Philippines in the Boxer Codex (c.1590), one of the earliest depictions of native Austronesian tattoos by European explorers. On that note, the Boxer Codex is an incredibly fascinating 16th century document which is publicly available online through the Indiana University Digital Library: https://webapp1.dlib.indiana.edu/
History is the study of the past and the tools which we can use to uncover the events from those earlier times, particularly if we’re trying to understand who our ancestors were before the likes of writing, photography or proper record keeping was invented, is through the observation of humanities artworks; be they, as we’ve explored throughout Artworks from History; our craftworks (Issue 9), architecture (Issue 8) or pottery (Issue 12). Yet there is one art form which, as well as being perhaps the most overlooked, withholds a rare and remarkable glimpse into both someone’s personal life and into the society to which they belong – tattooing.
Often mistaken as a modern concept and a product of the underground culture of the twentieth century, the art of tattooing is estimated to be thousands of years old. Fascinatingly, the first known person to have been tattooed was a man known to archaeologists as Otzi, who was found frozen in ice and was covered in around fifty lines and crosses that had been tattooed into his 5300-year-old body [McGill University studies]. So, next time some employer, be it a corporate manager or school headmaster, disciplines you for having tattoos just remember that this art form outdates both capitalism and education. The European taboo regarding tattooing nevertheless goes back a long way. For whilst many European tribes and, later Kingdoms, widely endorsed the practice for a variety of reasons, from spirituality to forms of identification, by the fourth century its usage was becoming increasingly scrutinised by the Roman Empire which had only recently converted to Christianity; a religion which strongly condemned tattooing. Interestingly, tattoos encountered a bit of a revival during the Early Medieval Period (a time archaically known as the Dark Ages) after the collapse of the Roman Empire and subsequent return to tribal pagan society across much of Northern Europe. Yet widespread acceptance and the subsequent wearing of tattoos by everyday people again faded (pardon the pun) under the extremely pious boots of the Normans, not to be filled in again (these puns just keep getting better, don’t they?) for almost another thousand years. Though, regardless of European attitudes, tattoos have been widely utilised across the world throughout the ages.
Unfortunately, since the majority of our written records and educative institutions have developed within Europe, our understanding of the world chiefly comes from a primarily Eurocentric standpoint. When Europeans first encountered other cultures who wore tattoos, such as those located within Africa, the Americas or the Pacific for instance, they wrote in incredibly disdainful tones. Indeed, having condemned tattoos in their own culture for centuries, white colonialists merely used the tattoos worn by indigenous cultures as a further means by which to bolster their ideas of European supremacy. Baron Haussmann,
an old white imperialist, writing in the late nineteenth century for instance, suggested that tattoos were simply ‘used in place of clothes by barbarous people to conceal their nakedness’. So, taking a leaf from Caro’s book, or artworks rather, let’s remove this western lens of scrutiny for a moment and explore how tattoos were really used by cultures outside of Europe from their points of view (if you haven’t yet read Caro’s article in this issue yet, then I strongly suggest doing so – in this regard, I recommend reading Art Etcetera as if it were a small book rather than a magazine).
Europe may have stopped using tattoos in everyday life from around the eleventh century onwards as the Church’s grip on society grew increasingly tighter, but that didn’t mean the rest of the world stopped using them for a variety of reasons. Japanese written and painted sources for instance, inform us that tattooing was used to identify criminals, whilst Tahitan and Inuit oral history on the other hand, tells us that they were used to recognise warriors and project ideas of spiritualism. We also know that the traditional Samoan tattoo, or tatau, furthermore, placed at the bottom of the back, has been used for perhaps as long as two thousand years as its distinct patterns have been passed down from generation to generation. Though, on that note, you can see why using tattoos as a means by which to uncover the past can be difficult.
The main reason why we can’t really use the ink-works we humans have imprinted on our skin throughout the ages as a reliable means by which to tell us about times gone by is, quite frankly, because people die (well unless you’re that fella who was frozen in ice). This means that we don’t really know what tattoos really looked like, represented or symbolised hundreds or thousands of years ago, because just like the people, so too did these artistic imprints vanish into the sands of time. The only way we can uncover the answers to such questions, as you may have noticed within the previous paragraph and the very image here within this section, is through the use of other sources, such as paintings, oral history or written records. What makes tattoos such a powerful source, however, isn’t so much their ability to reflect our society’s history – but our own personal ones.
How we perceive a source of information changes drastically over time. Millions once believed their religious book to be the sole source of truth during the medieval period in the same way that billions once were convinced that the ‘camera could never lie’ during the previous century. Both of these sources are now however, thanks to the likes of the Enlightenment and later photoshop, widely viewed with scepticism. Yet out of all of our sources that have the ability to tell us something about the past, there is perhaps nothing as personal as a tattoo – OK, you could say a diary here, but you don’t exactly have this glued to your arm 24/7. Of course, and as we’ve explored, a tattoo can’t provide us with a long view of history beyond an individual’s lifetime (though, again, unless you’re Otzi) nor can it provide us with much detail beyond that of its aesthetic; little surprise why they aren’t exactly popular amongst historians; yet what it can do is serve as a memento from an individual’s personal past. In that regard, it’s estimated that the bulk of tattoos are either depictions of family members or of symbols used to represent those very people. Like all sources however, over time, the perception of many a tattoo bearer, when it comes to their imprint, begins to change.
Even if we do require other sources to better understand the history of our tattoos, it’s fascinating how their usage has changed over time; from being used to primarily identify warriors and elements of spiritualism, to primarily being imprinted to represent those closest to us. Nevertheless, just as time moves on so too do our memories and if we have tattoos then it’s likely that those ink-works are very closely associated with our echoes from the past. If we no longer enjoy recollecting something from the past and we have a tattoo which serves as a memento from that time, then we may choose to destroy it in an attempt to erase such an event from our memory and subsequently our past. On this point, Richard Ovenden in his work, ‘Burning the Books’, discusses the danger of destroying valuable information, such as – you’ve guessed it – books, videos and other historical sources, at length; though, perhaps unsurprisingly however, he doesn’t mention tattoos. Of course, there’s a plethora of reasons why people should be allowed to keep or remove their own tattoos, it is their body after all. Yet
it nevertheless raises an interesting point about just how significant our often-overlooked sources of information can be – I mean, what information may have we missed out on if Otzi had decided to have his lasered off?
Indeed, our tattoos are fascinating pieces of the human creation and like all of our artworks, from oil paintings of mind-scapes to abstract photography, they have the power evoke questions which step beyond our accepted scholarly lenses... hmmm, maybe I should create an edition on them some day (hint, hint).
Comments