And I think if there is ‘Pretty Poison’, maybe there should be ‘Handsome Horror’ or ‘Chiseled Charlatan’. Something to that idea. I’d also like to see a hula boy too, with nice abs. How about a man’s face drawn on the classic “stewed, screwed, and tattooed”? Let’s not forget some pin-up guys: sailors, doctors, cowboys, fireman, etc.

Here’s what I am saying – I think some tattoo artist or a group of them needs to create an old school flash book for women. I’d do it myself but I suck at drawing. I think as much as ladies like getting pin-up girls and the usual old school, Sailor Jerry-Inspired affair, I think it would be nice to see some classics redrawn for women (and possibly this would also appeal to gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered individuals). Who’s with me?

Something else of interest, the Tattoos & Philosophy book is set to be released in April 2012. It has some awesome cover art too! Click here to find out more.

I think Remembrance Day isn’t complete without the realization that many of these brave women and men were/are tattooed, and often their ink speaks of their ideals, their dreams, and their type of service. I’m sure many of us have seen an older gentleman with a lovely anchor on his forearm, or even a young soldier with her regiment details or nickname on her shoulder. Let us not forget to pay tribute to artists like Sailor Jerry (aka Norman Collins) who was a naval man himself. Those travels around the globe, and in particular to Southeast Asia, are what influenced his tattoo designs and philosophy. He began to tattoo shortly before joining the navy, but it was those experiences on the high seas that truly shaped his art. What would Sailor Jerry have become without the navy? Further, once Sailor Jerry settled in Hawaii, much of his ‘bread and butter’ was inking service people: “Finishing his Naval stint in the late ’20s, Collins decided to settle in the then “remote” island of Oahu, Hawaii. In some ways, his timing could not have been better (or worse, depending on who you ask!). This “last outpost” would soon become the stomping ground for over a million soldiers and sailors, all of whom were ready to live life to the fullest-usually contained within a 48-hour Honolulu shore leave! And so, for the next 40 years, Sailor Jerry had a constant canvas of carousing military men to obsessively perfect his deftly crafted, boldly lined, style that incorporated both American designs and traditions with Asiatic coloring and sensibilities.” Sailor Jerry had a profound impact on the service people he inked, and he left a meaningful, colourful trace on their skin – images that conveyed their dreams, their ideals, their pride, their character. It is amazing to think that Sailor Jerry probably inked a lot of people who died a short time later in battle (maybe even when the tattoo had not finished healing), and sitting in his chair and getting tattooed was one of the last meaningful experiences they participated in before leaving shore to fight. Those men and women chose to spend some of their last free moments on home soil with him, getting tattooed and sharing a conversation. That is a really touching thought. And it was in this beautiful process that Sailor Jerry created a style that remains the pinnacle of cool today. Sailor Jerry taught Don Ed Hardy and Mike Malone, and then there are the countless other tattoo artists that follow his style. So, if you are fans of their work, then you owe Sailor Jerry and his naval background a nod.

So, let’s pay our respects and express our appreciation to our brothers and sisters in arms, both fallen and alive, and in that moment don’t forget about the nobel tattoo artists who touched their lives, like Sailor Jerry.

Beware the Jabberwoch, my son

‘Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!’

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought —
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

‘And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’
He chortled in his joy.

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

‘It seems very pretty,’ she said when she had finished it, ‘but its rather hard to understand!’ (You see she didn’t like to confess, ever to herself, that she couldn’t make it out at all.) ‘Somehow it seems to fill my head with ideas — only I don’t exactly know what they are!
‘Looking-Glass House’, Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll

I’ve read this poem easily a million times, it’s a personal favourite (Carroll’s work is a favourite of mine, period) but this time something resonated in my head about it. Maybe it’s the research and reading I’ve been doing lately for a project with Matt Lodder or maybe it was something in my tea. I had this moment of realization that Alice’s reaction to the Jabberwocky verses, a nonsense poem that seems to almost make sense while reading it, is remarkably similar to reactions non-tattooed people have to inked individuals. Sometimes you hear it, and sometimes you just see it … that look (whether they be puzzled, in awe, or offended, etc). It’s not entirely their fault, but the choice not to be inked has consequences. Even that contextual moment described of Alice trying to figure out the poem and realizing that it should make sense but it doesn’t, that her mind is full of ideas that are confused. I’ve seen this before; you catch someone looking at your ink, trying to figure out what is peeking out from under your shirt, what the image is, what it means, what it says about you, why you got it, etc. and ending up with lots of ideas and no clear answers.

Alice is an outsider to Wonderland, and complete understanding of the people who reside there and their customs never is fully in her grasp. In fact, she could take that phrase and apply it to Wonderland – pretty place, but rather hard to understand. She tries so hard to figure it out, but not being a native of Wonderland limits her. Like Alice, those who are not tattooed, observers or witnesses to ink, never fully understand the tattooed person even though, by all proper sense, they should be able to. Like Alice, they struggle to fully grasp the reasons why a person gets tattooed or why someone chose specific things to ink on their body. They can never understand fully the effect that tattooing has, or the process of getting it has, or what it fully means to the bearer since conveying full personal meaning is rather difficult and, to boot, the tattoo will never exhaust meaning – it’s meaning will renew, refresh, and reshape. Non-inked individuals can empathize, and while that is a valiant effort and honourable in every way (and often much appreciated), there is still a gap in understanding. Even when a tattooed person explains their choices of body art, it’s often something only they can understand – so, in a way It’s sensible nonsense to the listener. Sometimes, depending on the circumstances or prior personal history, tattooed people can struggle to fully understand the reasons of their inked brothers and sisters. All that ink is very pretty, but it’s rather hard to understand.

This project with Lodder has me thinking a lot, not only introspectively but generally. Today, I was thinking about reasons why people get tattooed; I could name at least 20 reasons or so, some of course were my own, and I felt that was barely scratching the surface. The reasons could be so varied, and so fucking complex at times, that trying to encapsulate them neatly seems impossible. It seems like nonsense to do it too. Actually, it would be nonsense to try to apply a schema to something in constant flux, to something so varied that it naturally escapes theory and boundary. It seems nonsense to capture something that will evolve and change over time. A tattoo is a powerful thing, sometimes I think more than we often realize. To try to capture neatly why people get tattooed is applying sense to nonsense (or, rather, something that escapes conventional sense), and we saw how well that worked for Alice. Can anything about tattooing be encapsulated or fully described. No, not really. As much as we can talk about content (i.e., images to be inked), something new will come along – a new style, a new figure, a new writing, a new idea, etc. Tattooing itself always evolves; it is in a state of constant flux. The ‘how’ might be easier, one could probably name all the techniques for tattooing present today, but not future. That could all very well change. Tattooing is a fluid art that will never be static, and that’s part of its charm and it’s nonsense. However, all this being said, we can never stop trying to figure out everything to do with the art of tattooing since it is an important part of our culture, it’s beautiful and it’s a meaningful art in itself. Meaningful nonsense. Beautiful and artful nonsense.

I bring this up because, being a philosopher, my life really is about making nonsense make sense … or rather making sense of things that others (students, family, friends) see as complete nonsense. And sometimes I do agree, some shit is complete dribbling nonsense … I won’t name names but someone who’s name rhymes with Smeidegger I could mention. But, no matter how difficult the topic or large the gap of understanding is, we have to try to build the bridge to understanding. Even knowing the odds of true understanding are small (in some cases the will to understand is small, making things rather difficult), we have to try. Tattoos demarcate one person from another, but they should never be elitist or closed-off.

“If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn’t. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn’t be. And what it wouldn’t be, it would. You see?” I do see Alice, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

A true Greek Philosopher in her own right

For Diotima, love is a spirit in between Gods and Mortals. Love is neither good nor bad, beautiful nor ugly, wise nor ignorant, mortal nor immortal; it’s in between things. Love is the desire to have The Good forever, and to be called a lover is to be one who wants to search and possess The Good forever. When we chase The Good, we also desire immortality. There are two ways we can have a type of immortality: through reproduction of ourselves in the form of children (continuing the bloodline we have and imparting knowledge, heritage, etc.) and through the creating of lasting ideas (eg. writing poetry and novels, composing songs, creating inventions, making important speeches or changes, etc.). So, there is pregnancy of body and of mind, in a sense, and in either or both forms of reproduction we come as close to immortality as we mortals can. This also means that men can be pregnant in some way as well – how equal of her!! There are, of course, smaller (daily) ways we strive for a kind of immortality: we replace old knowledge with new, our bodies replace cells, we teach others our ideas to replace their own, etc. Some people even seek immortality in search of honour. The point is, each day we replace the old with the new in some way.

There is ascension in Diotima, from beauty in its particular form to the universal, and eventually leading to The Good. In youth, we begin by being attracted to beautiful bodies, at first one body – probably our own body (self-exploration possibly) and maybe one other person -, we come to make beautiful discourses with this body and we fall in love. A bit later we notice that all bodies are beautiful in some way and we notice it is silly to love one body, so we begin to love all bodies as beautiful things. Then, the next stage is the acknowledgement of beautiful minds, and one can even love a beautiful mind that lacks, in some way or another, a beautiful body. So, if the elephant man has a great mind, you could love him even when his body is …. less than attractive. From this, a person begins to see that there is beauty in all things, not just bodies and minds. Beauty is everywhere. From here, there is the realization that there must be a beauty beyond ourselves and these examples we see are simply examples; there must be an absolute Beauty that all these thing participate in, a perfect, never-fading Beauty. One seeks and contemplates this notion of absolute Beauty, the lover seeks to understand Beauty, and soon the lover is not only a lover of Beauty but a lover of knowledge. In becoming a lover a knowledge, one becomes a lover of The Good. The Good is an end in itself, and is linked to happiness and love, and of course to beauty. Love’s final goal is The Good, and beauty is one step on that path; one seeks the beautiful to have The Good, never vice versa. The Good, for Plato, is the ultimate object of knowledge. The Good makes you feel good (it’s good for the soul too) it’s why you seek it, why you want to obtain it and have it forever. The Good just feels fucking good.

So, this is my train of thought now. There is no justifiable reason that tattoos are not beautiful – the present debate seems more about ‘can tattoos be art’ then the question of ‘are they beautiful’. I dare someone to look at a Chris Garver tattoo and not see the beauty present. And Mr. Kant’s reasons for thinking tattoos are not beautiful art is bad bullshit (I won’t get into this right now). I have looked at every theory of beauty I can find, and nothing I have seen says tattoos cannot be beautiful. That being said, of course I am implying talent on the part of the artist since, if the artist fucks up your tattoo (making a sparrow look more like a blobby cloud or a furry bird of some sort because of ink bleed, etc.) then beauty is completely called into question, and ugly might be the right word. But, if your tattoo artist is talented and he or she inks an exact replica of Botticelli’s Venus on your arm, then there is no reason why it cannot be beautiful (if the painting is deemed beautiful, then the replication of it should be as well for the same reasons … no one seems to argue that beauty comes from the wood or canvas beneath, that the material under the work of art is the source of beauty. That would be seriously fucked up if they did).

Anyway …. so if tattoos are beautiful (and I am saying they are), then Diotima’s ascension should still hold true. In your contemplation and acknowledgement of beautiful bodies, and in this case tattooed bodies, you see beauty – in fact you probably see twofold beauty since the tattoo is beautiful and it’s placement upon that fleshy canvas aids in its beauty, and then of course there is the beautiful body it is inked on. Looking at a beautiful tattoo, or many of them, should also awaken the realization that beauty is in many things and can be expressed in many ways. Then, the rest falls into place – you come to the realization that beauty is bigger than the examples, you think about absolute Beauty, you become the lover of knowledge, and of course in becoming the lover of knowledge and of Beauty, you are the lover of The Good. So, contemplating the beauty of a tattoo is one way a person loves, and loves beauty, and because love is the desire to have The Good forever it follows that the beauty of a tattoo is one step (of many and different kinds) to The Good.

Further, the act of tattooing by the tattoo artist is one way of immortality: the artist, with his or her gift, inks a piece onto a body that lasts a lifetime on the flesh, and for longer in pictures and the memory of others. Your body also becomes part of that artist’s portfolio, and hence part of the artist’s creative life. Tattooing for the artist is a pregnancy of the mind, if you will. The tattoo itself aids in the immortality of the individual which it is inked upon since it makes their body memorable to others and expressive; people will talk about you, your tattoos, and maybe show pictures of you to others. Also, the meaning of that person’s tattoos lasts past their lifetime: that person participated in an act of meaning. Once again, it is a pregnancy of the mind since it was your decision and possibly your idea or design that was inked onto your body. You gave birth to a creation inked on your body. Furthermore, tattoos require touch-ups to keep them looking their best and freshest, and that act is one of immortality. Some people even cover up or reinvent their older ink, and once again this is an act of immortality. We constantly renew and reinvent ourselves, and this is the closest we come to being immortal like the Gods. We all want to be Gods, don’t we?

Diotima says at one point that beauty is the goddess that presides over birth. She meant birth in the sense of physical birth but also creation in general (e.g., birth of a poem or song), and so it is reasonable to think beauty is present at the birth of a tattoo. We do tattoo for reasons of love, for beauty, and to have The Good forever. Inked good is Good, it’s fucking GOOD.

The Inked, Art Doctor

I am posting about Lodder not only because he is a cool guy, but he recently contacted me (and the others who contributed to the volume on Tattoos and Philosophy) about an upcoming book project that looks really interesting and informative. I figured i’d share.

Tattoo Art History by Matt Lodder
(IB Tauris, forthcoming 2014.)
This book charts the history of tattooing as an artistic practice in Europe and America, from its beginnings in seafaring and religious communities in the 16th and 17th centuries, through its period as an elaborate and fashionable preserve of aristocrats in the 19th century to its seeming ubiquity at the beginning of the 21st. By focussing on tattooing’s status as an art form, by considering the role of key tattoo artists, and by examining developments in form, genre, style and technology, the book presents a unique art historical perspective on a fascinating method of art making which has for so long been misunderstood.

He is also hosting a panel called Tattoo Art History, at the Association of Art Historian’s Annual Conference in the UK in 2012. The CFP has just been released, and can be found if you click on the link above.

He’s been featured on the awesome blog Alice th’ink

A HUGE thanks to Matt, for the awesome work he’s doing.

Know More ...

This year marks the 20th anniversary of Naomi Wolf’s The Beauty Myth: How Images of Beauty are Used Against Women, a book that every woman should have a chance to read (especially as teenagers). It tells the story of a relationship between the force of adherence to impossible physical standards and advancements women make in society, and that with every advancement that force grows. I have read it a few times in my life, and it’s the one that made me proud to be a feminist and a woman. I think tattooed people have something special to contribute to her discussion.

In it, she writes:
“The beauty myth tells a story: The quality called ‘beauty’ objectively exists and universally exists. Women must want to embody it and men want to possess women who embody it. This embodiment is imperative for women and not for men, which situation is necessary and natural because it is biological, sexual, and evolutionary: Strong men battle for beautiful women, and beautiful women are more reproductively successful. Women’s beauty must correlate to their fertility, and since this system is based on sexual selection, it is inevitable and changeless. None of this is true. ‘Beauty’ is a currency system like the gold standard. Like any economy, it is determined by politics, and in the modern age in the West it is the last, best belief system that keeps male domination in tact.” (p.12)

She goes on to argue that beauty is neither universal or changeless, or a function of evolution, or based on sex, gender, aesthetics, or God. The beauty myth is “actually composed of emotional distance, politics, finance, and sexual repression. The beauty myth is not about women at all. It is about men’s institutions and institutional power.”(p. 13) Beauty in its myth-form actually contradicts women’s real situations, become like an Iron Maiden (medieval German torture device) the real faces and bodies of women are concealed, and all one sees is the pretty, smiling, young lady painted on the exterior of the casket. The Iron Maiden represents that unobtainable standard that traps us women or we trap ourselves in, and it is used to punish us emotionally, psychologically, and physically. We are left vulnerable and constantly seeking approval, and feeling incomplete and never good enough. Evidence of the beauty myth at work can be seen in fashion magazines and celebrity gossip rags, in the line ups at Botox clinics, plastic surgeons, and cosmetic dentists. We see it in the rates of anorexia, bulimia, and suicide in young women. There are 5 areas, Wolf says, that women are most under attack by the myth: religion, sex, hunger, work, and violence.

I think tattooed women fuck with the beauty myth, actually all tattooed people do and I will return to the general inked population in a moment. Tattooed women create a new idea on what is feminine as much as what is beautiful. Tattooed women can have any tattoo they like and anywhere, their personal wishes are the limits. They can have pin-up girls, or skulls and cross-bones, or drag cars, or flowers, and how a woman tattoos her body defines what feminine beauty is to her. Tattooed women come in all sizes and shapes, and any race, creed, religion, and colour. And ALL are beautiful in each other’s eyes. I have found in my conversations with other tattooed women a unity, a locking of arms against the standards that seek to crush us, rather than a competition with each other or a divide from within. This unity of tattooed sisters shows the lack of power the beauty myth has on those of us gals who freely define ourselves and have our own ideas of beauty. Even with all the tattoo shows on tv there is still a large number of people in Western culture who don’t see tattoos are beautiful, or tattooed people as beautiful. They still think we’re weirdos. Tattooing, and also piercing and branding, is still considered a subculture, and not mainstream. And that’s fine, because I’d rather feel good about myself and be beautiful to a small number of people who respect me for who I am. I’d also rather celebrate something that is real and truthful, and not some ideal dictated by a society that wants me to eat fast food, weigh 90 pounds, have DD breasts, be heterosexual but wild enough to kiss girls once in a while (preferably while in a swimming pool or mud pit with string bikinis that fall off easily), be tanned, be toned but not too muscular, and stay 25 forever with not an ounce of cellulite on my body.

So, how do we, the tattooed people, fuck with this beauty myth? By creating new forms of beauty, new ideas on what is beautiful and not imposing them on others for the hell of it or for power gains. Beauty, to tattooed people, is deeply personal and profoundly meaningful. We cover our bodies with words and pictures that have personal significance and truth for us, that tell a personal story or describe a moment in our experience. Being tattooed is like wearing your inner life on your outer body. The artwork itself is usually a thing of aesthetic beauty. If there is any universal aspect to tattooed beauty, it is the standard for beautiful tattooing rather than the content of the tattoo itself. Tattoos enhance the body’s curves and lines, and can bring out the natural beauty of the human form no matter what size you are or what sex. Yes, tattoos recreate beauty in new ways for both women and men equally. We cannot forget that men too are affected by certain beauty myths, ideals of strong men who bring home the bread, and I’d say those myths are also dictated by institutional systems of patriarchy as well. Take for example, Rick Genest, the Montreal man known as “Zombie Boy” who looks like a walking skeleton, now famous for appearing in the Lady Gaga video ‘Born this Way’.

Rick Genest aka Zombie Boy

Once I started getting tattooed at 17, I stopped caring as much about socially dictated beauty, and I started caring more about my own ideas of beauty. I began to own my body, and own what it looked like and will be. I refused to be bent over the table of acceptability and social approval, and fucked over by an invisible, nameless, faceless force that feels it has the right to tell me what i am and what i want. I refused to play a game I could never win, I refused to pay attention to an ideal I could never attain. Tattooing in that way is liberating, it frees you from the Iron Maiden in many ways. Camus once wrote that revolt gives life its value. Tattooing is a revolt, and as much as that revolt by ink displays personal meaning on your body it also gives birth to more meaning and to truth. The truth of who you are and what you think is all over your body. The beauty myth doesn’t like truth, and truth is the tattooed person’s sword.

Thank you Naomi Wolf for opening my eyes at a young age and helping me realize that things were not what they seemed. You taught me that I ought to do something about it, to prevent becoming another body trapped in the Iron Maiden. And what I did was I got tattooed.

Rene Descartes

Descartes basically says that I am conscious that I exist, or what everyone knows to be cogito ergo sum (I think, therefore I am). I am the one who doubts and thinks, but what I doubt or think about besides my consciousness is problematic. The stuff outside of me is easy to doubt – I could be dreaming, or drunk, or some evil demon is tricking me. I can doubt the table across the room, but I cannot doubt that I am one thinking about it. Now, this is fine until I walk into the table while trying to doubt its existence – the pain and bruising caused by this action makes it seem pretty real. So real I avoid doing it again. So, Mr. Descartes says I can believe the stuff outside me to be real because God would not deceive me and nature is my teacher. Yup, this is where my disappointment set in. I agree that nature can be a teacher, a very good one in fact: if you see a big, scary, growling tiger, your instincts tell you to get the hell away from it, or if you put your hand on a hot poker and get burned badly, most likely you never touch one again, these are both cases of nature being a teacher. But the part about God is not only a cop-out, it doesn’t solve anything here – I have to make theological presuppositions in order to have metaphysical certainty, and that presupposition involves a being I cannot see, hear, or have any concrete knowledge of. But how can I make those presuppositions when he tells me I ought to be doubting everything but my own indubitable conscious existence? Whig on too tight at times? Maybe it had some strong chemicals too. But I digress …..

To my knowledge, Descartes never had a tattoo. I don’t even know if he knew anything about tattoos or if he had ever seen one. Now, a tattoo is basically ink applied to the physical body, as we all know. But, if this is applied to the physical body, and the physical body is a different substance than the mind, it seems I should be able to doubt the tattoo’s reality in all respects – experience of getting as well as existence after. The tattoo gun is a physical object, as is the ink, and my tattoo artist is a physical other outside myself, the stencil too is an outside object, etc., and the image to be applied to my body might be my own imagining, or someone else’s, or it might be of a person or object in the world, something he says I can doubt exists. But … ummm … can you doubt sitting in the chair at the shop that you are being tattooed? If my body and my mind are qualitatively different, there should be a gap in the way I feel things (almost removed or secondhand), something that allows for doubt because it feels somehow less real or less immediate. I know in many cases I have practiced ‘mind over matter’ when being inked in an uncomfortable spot, but that is not doubting the experience is occurring or doubting the existence of the tattoo gun running over my skin. I couldn’t doubt no matter how hard I try — the experience of my collar-bone rattling in my ears, or my teeth shaking, or my spinal cord vibrating, or the feeling of my body constantly flinching when my kidney area is being inked. Nor can I doubt the tenderness of the area tattooed the next day, nor the scabbing that happens over the next week. And I remember very deeply this experience so that I would have great issue doubting the existence of the tattoo on my physical body afterwards. My kidney area tattoo reminds me every time I look at it or run my fingers over it of that day when it was applied, and I cannot doubt I was the one on the table being tattooed, being conscious of my flinching body and the discomfort. This is where I agree that nature is my teacher, even though I plainly and obviously ignore her for the greater end. And there was no gap or qualitative difference in the sensation – it felt like pain or discomfort, pure and simple. Nature is a direct teacher, no middle man needed. I refuse to talk about the “God is no deceiver” part here, as I am an atheist. I just cannot see God taking time out to guarantee for me the tattoo experience … the big thumbs up that it’s all real. Nope. Maybe he does for others but not for me.

I have studied quite a bit of philosophical psychology in my years of study, and quite a lot of metaphysics and epistemology too. I have begun to think more and more that tattoos are an interesting topic in discussion of mind-body, and of mental and physical phenomena. As much as tattoos are physical pictures on your physical body, they represent things that are very much mental. If the picture comes from your own imaginings, then you have a mental object made physical on your body. Tattoos have a deep connection to your personal experiences and attitudes towards the physical world. They are unique stamps of your mental-physical interactions, and are themselves proof of the kind of strength the bond between mind and body has. Would you go through the pain or discomfort if what was being tattooed on you didn’t have strong significance for both your internal and external being?
I think not.
That is non cogito.
Oh shit.

Cogito Ergo Sum in ink

H. R. Giger's Birth Machine

Nearly 6 years ago I was in Germany on research for my PhD, and during that time I also traveled briefly through Switzerland and stayed for a couple of days in a small village called La Gruyère. In that village, with the scent of fondue ever-present, I found the Giger Museum and the Giger-Bar. There I came face to face with Birth Machine, and once again my mind was spinning. Upon returning to Marburg, Germany where I was staying, I went to a local tattoo artist – Gandi @ AllStar Tattooz - and told him I wanted the Birth Machine tattooed on my body. He was all too happy to do this, being a fan of Giger as well, and so he inked Giger’s Birth Machine on half my left thigh. (Thanks, Gandi!)

I have been asked several times why in the world I’d want a giant gun on my thigh. And while I greatly appreciate Giger’s work aesthetically, this piece does have some philosophical importance to me. I think Simone de Beauvoir best explains it, this time looking to Ethics of Ambiguity and some of her early work. It’s all about freedom, baby. I have already blogged about Beauvoir, alongside Bettie Page and Iris Marion Young, and here I will pick up on some similar themes from that post. No stilettos here though, only a gun.

Simone de Beauvoir

According to Beauvoir, people experience freedom through a spontaneous internal drive and this drive is crushed by the weight of the world. Human existence is an ambiguous mix of a wanting to transcend the given conditions of the world and being confined or defeated by it – a world with events you have no control over, at times no choices or options as to what happens. Beauvoir says we must accept this ambiguity rather than run from it or mask it. In order to have freedom and live authentically, we must engage our freedom in projects that arise from spontaneous choices in the face of this ambiguity. Our goals or ends must never be absolute or concrete, not only because this makes them less about freedom and choice (and less spontaneous), but it also cuts them off from us – the ones who choose. Static goals become absolute, less about choice, and are often easy to escape into. To be free is not to do whatever the fuck you want. Freedom, for Beauvoir, is the conscious assumption of freedom through projects which are chosen in a moment and acted upon, and renewed moment to moment. Freedom is action and self-making choices, and accepting the ambiguity we live within. One self-consciously chooses to be who one is at every moment of every day, in every project. This implies that the meaning of our actions is not derived from any external source like God or society, but in the person’s very act of choosing. We are ethical beings in so far as we accept the consequences and responsibility that our choices have : “to will oneself moral and to will oneself free are one and the same decision.”

Beauvoir strongly believed that the freedom of oneself required freedom of others to be actualized. As much as individuals make choices, they live in communities with other people, who also are free to make choices. Our freedom is always at the crossroads with the freedoms of others. This idea was discussed in detail in her 1944 work Pyrrhus et Cinéas as well. Since there is no god, it is up to humans to create ethical bonds with each other. These bonds require the creation and execution of projects that express freedom, our own and that of others. Rather than seeing “the other” as a threat to freedom, which her partner Sartre did (he was a bit paranoid), she sees others as a necessary axis of my freedom. Without others, I could not be free. My choices are often a call to the freedoms of others, so they can respond or ignore me. Without others, my actions are useless and absurd – they fall back upon themselves. Problems arise in a world of freely acting people of course, things like slavery, tyranny, and oppression, but these too are choices people make. Bad or hurtful choices, but choices nonetheless. One always has a choice to act against social evils like these: whether one remains silent or joins the protest against oppressive forces, it’s all a free choice. It’s your choice. No one escapes from freedom!!

According to what I have read, Birth Machine is a statement about overpopulation: every woman’s womb is essentially a loaded gun. If this power is abused it could be the death of everyone. With a woman’s choice to have lots of children comes consequences – on society, on the ecosystem, on the food chain, etc., and on the woman herself as well. In other words, her choice to have a large brood affects the freedoms of others and herself. I say ‘woman’ here because the idea of a gun with its chambers and barrel, the bullets resting inside all comfy, the bullets being babies … screams ‘womb’ to me. There are also a lot of feminine forms, female genitalia, or symbols of woman depicted in Giger’s art. Women are often depicted as sexual, sometimes maternal, but always strong. Giger’s Birth Machine in particular speaks to a woman’s freedom to choose not to have children. Populating the world is a choice, it is an exercise of freedom (most of the time, we won’t count rape here). In the very least, it is a warning, a call to control her fertility in ways that do not lead to the end of humankind. Once again, freedom and choices. Now, this freedom could not be realized without sperm, even if from a sperm bank some other (guy) had to deposit it in a cup, some nurse had to collect it, and some lady had to pose naked for a magazine, some company produced the hand lotion and the cup, and … you get the point. So, the freedom to procreate requires others, without them a woman could not make the free choice to embark on ‘project pregnant’. But this freedom to procreate also affects others, directly and indirectly – there is only so much food to eat and grow, water to drink, clean air, natural resources to use, only so many teachers, doctors, and so many vaccines. And I only have so much patience on the plane or in the store with screaming kids … So, maybe pop 1 bullet out instead of 4, 7, or 10 … and let’s keep the safety on, ladies!

Giger’s piece also speaks to the power women possess concerning life itself – the creation of it, sustaining it, and the freedom that life will possess after the baby is born. In this way, Giger’s art speaks to the machine post birth, so to speak. Children are more than bodies on the planet sucking up resources, they also grow up to become productive members of society. They affect change, and the choices they make affect others’ freedoms. This is a part of the risk of having children – odds are the same you can give birth to a future Hitler or a future Sister Theresa or a future accountant. This is part of the choice. So, your ‘bullet’ could grow up to destroy the world through her/his actions, not just by being one too many for the world to handle.

So, could we call Giger’s Birth Machine a feminist artwork? I’m not really sure. I want to say ‘yes’ because I think part of the message is about reproductive rights, and the power reproductive rights have. A woman able to control her reproduction is good for herself and the world. If the Catholic Church had its way, there would be no birth control and no abortion, and sex would only happen for the purpose of reproduction. This renders women as ‘guns without a safety’ (as well as purely baby factories), maybe even machine guns in some cases … rapid-firing all over. What comes to mind here is the ‘lady’ in Monty Python’s Meaning of Life who casually delivers a baby while doing the dishes, and has so many children that she must give them up for scientific experiments. However, this work of Giger’s is about the potential destructive power ‘creating life’ has, a message to everyone and for everyone – men and women. In this way, I want to say Giger’s Birth Machine is more than a feminist work – it is largely a social and political artwork, like Picasso’s Guernica or the framed pair of soiled panties I saw at his museum, upstairs in the personal art collection (the woman who wore them had been viciously raped). Sorry, I don’t remember who the artist was but the art left an impression on my psyche. But, instead of saying yes or no here, I think it’s best left up to the viewer to interpret. Gadamer would agree here.

Would Beauvoir have liked Giger’s Birth Machine? I think so, for many of the reasons I have stated here — Woman might be the second sex, the ‘other,’ but she’s got the power to create and to end life. Stick that in your fucking pipe and smoke it!

My Giger Birth Machine Tattoo