But what moved me the most, without a doubt, were the women. There were so many women there, getting tattooed in public, in various states of undress, completely unbothered by the fact that they were in a room full of people. There was something almost awe inspiring about it. Getting a tattoo is an intimate experience at the best of times, and to do it in a public setting, to sit in that chair and let people watch, takes a certain kind of courage that I think deserves to be acknowledged. They weren't hiding. They weren't shrinking. They were just there, fully present, fully themselves.
It reminded me, strangely, of standing in front of a painting in a gallery. The people getting tattooed at the show were both the canvas and the subject. They were displaying themselves, their stories, their choices, right there for everyone to see, and the tattoo artists were adding to something that was already a work of art. There was a quiet dignity to it that felt almost classical, the way a Renaissance painting commands your attention not because it demands it, but because there is so much humanity in it that you cannot look away.
Leaving the show, I felt something shift in me, not dramatically, not in a way that suddenly made me confident or fearless, but in a small, meaningful way. Being around people who have genuinely decided to stop apologising for who they are does something to you. It makes you wonder what you might look like if you stopped too.