INk the News: Tattoo Mom Busted for Inking 11-Year-Old


A North Carolina mother was arrested after she gave her 11-year-old daughter a small heart-shaped tattoo near her shoulder, authorities said.

Odessa Clay, 30, of Greensboro, N.C., faces one count of tattooing a person under age 18.

It is illegal to tattoo a minor in North Carolina, regardless of parental consent.

The Havelock Police Department charged Clay, who has a few tattoos of her own, with the offense in late September.

In her defense, Clay said she did not know tattooing a minor, especially her own daughter, was illegal.

“She asked me to do it,” Clay told ABC News affiliate WCTI-TV, adding that she only drew a heart outline and did not fill in the shape.

Clay said she believes an ex in-law turned her in after she filed a report against her 11-year-old daughter’s paternal grandfather.



INk the News: ‘Tattoo Hunter’ to share cultural history of body art in Student Union

From arctic Alaska to Papua New Guinea, Lars Krutak keeps permanent memories of his travels to the corners of the globe in the form of indigenous tattoos.

The host of Discovery Channel’s “Tattoo Hunter” will present “Skin Deep: The History and Art of Indigenous Tattooing,” beginning at 6 p.m. in the Atchafalaya Room of the Student Union.

Krutak will begin with an encyclopedic introduction into the world and history of indigenous tattooing, followed by a segment on the magical and spiritual ramifications and meanings tattoos carry for the people who wear them. This piece will feature video segments from “Tattoo Hunter” to demonstrate to the audience how these cultures work.

Despite the varied natures of the world’s indigenous cultures, many use tattooing for similar purposes, Krutak explained.

“Practically speaking, a lot of people use tattoos cross-culturally for the same purposes even though they weren’t connected through any methods of communication or exchange,” he said. “It is a language, if you want to call it that. It’s a tool to communicate various things cross-culturally. Obviously, when you see someone with a tattooed face or other exposed body part, that’s the first impression you’re going to have of that individual.”

For many cultures, tattoos are also associated with rites of passage. They mark different periods of life and growth in maturity, beginning as early as 3 years old.

“It obviously transforms you physically but also spiritually,” he said. “I can think of many examples where, without receiving the mark of the tribe, you weren’t even considered to be human. You’re basically like an alien in some sense.”

But the first signs of tattoos were discovered in mummification. Krutak cited a 7,000-year-old South American mummy with cosmetic tattoos for beautification. And for several cultures, tattoos also serve medicinal purposes. Like acupuncture, tattooing was and is often used for sprains and arthritis.

“This therapy, if you want to call it that, was efficacious, and it worked,” he said. “Otherwise, people wouldn’t continue to do it now, 5,300 years after the ice man was running around in the European Alps with these medicinal tattoos and joint articulations.”

As a result of his interests in these traditions, Krutak himself bears various tattoos and body modifications from indigenous cultures he’s visited around the world.

“I’ve been getting all the traditional tattoos done,” he said. “I’ve basically had every technique that was ever practiced in the indigenous world, from hand tapping, to skin tattooing, to hand poking, to skin stitching, scarification — all of those methods, I’ve had.”

Krutak received his first tattoo from a friend in New Orleans in 1999. While this proved his only machine-made tattoo, it resembles St. Lawrence Island Yupic designs, an Alaskan culture that sparked Krutak’s interest in indigenous tattooing.

Krutak was familiar with tattooing because he previously lived around the corner from the famed tattoo artist John Ed Hardy in the Bay Area of San Francisco. When he moved to Alaska for his master’s degree, he encountered indigenous tattooing for the first time.

“I was walking across campus, and I came across this woman who was from a native village, and she had striped chin tattoos — I had never seen those before,” he said. “It wasn’t done traditionally, but it was done more to pay homage to her ancestors and her identity in that particular community. I began to explore a little deeper, and I found that it was a widespread practice across the arctic, but no one had really given it much attention.”

Krutak then found a group of women in their 80s and 90s with similar body work as part of this culture.

“I worked with those women, and they’ve all passed away, so I soon realized that this is probably happening all around the world in many remote regions,” he said. “So I sort of dedicated myself to documenting and preserving it.”

Fifteen years later, Krutak continues to help preserve indigenous cultures through his work at the Smithsonian as the repatriation case officer for Alaska and the Southwest United States. Here, he helps facilitate the return of human remains, sacred ceremony objects and patrimonial objects at the Smithsonian back to tribes who claim affiliation with these items.

“We’re giving back objects that have been at the museum for a long, long time,” he said. “Basically, I’m just trying to mend the circle and heal wounds that have sort of been long standing, and it’s a great job because I’m working with these people [Native Americans] on a daily basis.”


Dexter Gets A New Tattoo

Michael C. Hall is celebrating the return of his gore-filled, murding Showtime series with a cool badass tattoo… of a starburst… on his foot.

Okay, the Dexter star’s new ink may not be the toughest ink job we’ve ever seen, but he took the needle like a pro! Michael was relaxed enough to check a few emails and texts on his phone as the tattooist got to work — and grinned throwout his trip to the True Tattoo parlor in Hollywood, Monday.

He seemed pleased with his bug-like starburst, leaving the parlor with the same smile he walked in with!



INk the News: Fetishizing Holocaust Tattoos

The gradual disappearance of Holocaust survivors has long been viewed with worry by those tasked with ensuring that the world never forgets the crimes of the Nazis and their collaborators. The passage of time means that the most able advocates of remembrance will soon be but a memory themselves. Fear that their experiences would be forgotten have fueled the proliferation of Holocaust museums and memorials, as well as praiseworthy efforts to create libraries of survivor testimony that will all remain once they are gone. But for some that is not enough.

For some grandchildren of survivors and others who care about the subject, that has led to a bizarre fad in which they have taken to having the numbers that the Nazis branded on the survivors tattooed on their own arms. As a New York Times feature published on Monday shows, this phenomenon has grown from isolated instances to what must considered a trend with large numbers of youths in Israel. While the motives behind this seem pure, one cannot help but wonder at anyone embracing a practice whose purpose was to dehumanize captive Jews. While survivors who lived long enough eventually saw that most considered those numbers to be a badge of honor rather than a mark of shame, the act of fetishizing this evidence of the Nazis’ crimes seems like something that says more about the current generation than it does about the experience of the survivors.


It is true that in the past insults directed at Jews have become symbols that transcended their original intent. Secret practitioners of Judaism in Catholic Spain were taunted as “Marranos” — a word that meant “pigs” but history has accepted the label as a mark of heroism. Yet while tattoos are — for reasons that completely escape me — all the rage in 2012, this is a very different sort of thing than a mere word.

For those grounded in traditional Judaism, the idea of using tattoos to memorialize the Shoah is intrinsically abhorrent since Jewish religious law forbids the practice under any circumstances. While not all the victims were religious any more than all the survivors and their descendants are, there is something profoundly distasteful about adopting a practice that was, in part, a Nazi effort to outrage Jewish sensibilities as well as to dehumanize the victims by replacing their name with a number.

But even if we were to somehow ignore this rather important point which is mentioned only in passing in the Times article, let’s understand that the tattoo craze seems like an effort to personalize an experience that can never truly belong to the person copying a survivor’s numbers.

Advocates for the practice will say that those who are appalled by this don’t understand today’s youth who see nothing wrong with tattoos and relate better to such individual gestures than more amorphous concepts. That may be so. A number on an arm may have a deep personal meaning for individuals, but turning oneself into a living Holocaust memorial via a tattoo is to merely become, as some of those interviewed for the Timesstory seemed to want, a conversation piece.

It might be admitted, as historian Michael Berenbaum told the Times, that a Holocaust number is preferable to some of the other things people pay to have drawn on their skin these days. But no one should be under the illusion that a tattoo can properly memorialize the six million slain in the Shoah or those who emerged from it.

The most important challenge for Jews today is to reconnect with Judaism, Jewish peoplehood and to act to protect the living Jewish state that is the best guarantee that the Holocaust will never happen again. That requires joint action that seems the antithesis of elevating a tattooed number inspired by Nazi dehumanization into a conversation starter.

It needs to be restated that the only proper memorial to the victims is a living breathing Jewish people determined to survive and thrive in a world still filled with anti-Semites who might like to emulate Hitler. Drawing a number on your skin may have meaning to individuals (or, as in one case, serve as a reminder to a young man to call his grandfather) but Jewish identity can’t be rooted in a vain attempt to relive a tragic past. Judaism is an affirmation of life not death. Seen in that light, the attempt by some secular Jews to grab onto a symbol of the slaughter as a way to connect with the past seems more like a futile provocation than a method of perpetuating the memory of this great tragedy.