Between tradition and trend
Unveiling the cultural stigma and redefining tattoo taboos in the Asian diaspora.
Author: Lae Um | Artwork: Nathan Barradas, Bittersvveetheart, Siningonyou, and Numpty.
MOST OF US grew up with our parents making snide comments of the permanent ink dispersed on people’s bodies. We were told stories of how it ascertained their association with violence, crime, and delinquent activities. Some of us had to suppress our new-found self-expression to avoid the inevitable character assassination, that we knew our parents had up their sleeve. Some of us found comfort in aligning our values with our parent’s traditions. The rest of us were forced to self sabotage our own ideals to uphold a taboo that was visibly fading out. Those who chose to become wielders of the medium, often had to pay the cost of living through the fear of their parents’ disappointment. On the other side of the spectrum artists like Vanessa Nilam (bittersvveetheart) were able to use the art form as a point of connection. Nilam’s artistry broke through parental stubbornness, winning their approval with the permission to boldly tattoo her own mother. Nathan Barradas is another artist who is striving to bring light to this heavily scolded medium. His recent photo series highlights the importance of living for oneself and how embracing our identity through tattoos can be a powerful form of self-expression.
Nathan Barradas
Memento Vivere, 2024, digital photography.
Our parents would scoff at the idea of tattooing being claimed as an art form, let alone a profession, yet culturally, our collective history has had a complicated relationship with the medium. What evolved from an important, traditional, spiritual, and for some countries, tribal practice contorted into a symbol of criminality. With some cultures evolving to prohibit practising the medium, a polarising divide erupted. What does this mean for the diaspora settling in a post-colonial country like so-called Australia? Where individualism is marked and celebrated by the permanent incision of a design? Artists like Numpty, Seraphimblade and Mary Salvador (Siningonyou) are swimming through this divide to pursue refuge amongst the endless buzz of a tattoo gun and stark aroma of antiseptic. For them, the tattoo studio becomes more than just a workplace — it’s a sanctuary, a place where the boundaries between art and rebellion blur, and where they can express their identities without restraint.
Bittersvveetheart
The Year of the Dragon, 2024, tattoo ink on skin.
Our predecessor’s fear of the tattoo seemed to be the common driving force behind our insatiable interest with the unknown. The false limitations placed for us only encouraged us to test how far they could bend before breaking. It forced us to question if those boundaries were necessary in the first place. Each time we tested these boundaries, we were forced to argue their necessity, wondering if they were ever justified or merely constructs of a proposed tradition afraid to embrace the unconventional.
Siningonyou
Back tattoo, 2023–2024 (ongoing), tattoo ink on skin.
If we gently peel back the layers behind our caretaker’s fears, we can see that what lies underneath is a rich cavern of historical practice and sharing. Tattoos hold a significant emblem in our collective history, showcasing the diverse connotations our ancestors have placed on the medium. Adorned with traditional names such as Sak Yants, Batok, Tebori, and Bāktūq, our diaspora is making a profound return to their roots, taking a seat with age-old practices that have long been part of their cultural heritage.
Numpty
Ink on, Cheeks out, 2024, digital artwork.
