Tattoos, piercings, dermals, and other forms of body modifications are each person’s form of artistic expression; their body the canvas, each chosen method of modification their medium. Art is beauty and meant to be appreciated, admired, discussed, but most of all it is a piece of a story.
Here’s a part a part of mine:
I was maybe 10 when my mom took my best friend and I to get my ears pieced. It was the typical Clair’s type store in a mall in the 80’s, you pick your piercing studs, sit on a stool, find and mark the location to pierce, then close your eyes as they place the piercing gun and pull the trigger, repeat next ear. Looking back now this has to be one of the most traumatic ways to pierce an ear.
In middle school I went back to get a second set of piercings in my lobes. Same process, but this time they missed the mark and the piercings were too close together for me to wear anything but a hoop in the first hole. I took the 2nd piercings out early hoping they would close, but that never happened. So disappointing, my design was incomplete and couldn’t be fixed. Stupid piercing guns.
I had so many visions that I could never act on for years after that. My mom refused to allow me any more ear piercings and any other placement as ugly. There was a point in high school where my vision was clear, I knew what I wanted next and exactly what to do. I grabbed my original stud (it was thicker), cleaned my ear, pressed it to the skin covering my cartilage, and pushed. It took some time, too many grooves in the stud, and oh God, it hurt that way. It seemed like it took a half hour, but it was through and framed perfectly. I can’t explain the rush I got or the satisfaction I felt, but every ounce of pain made it mine and perfect. There would be no more piercing guns or unqualified staff decorating my canvas.
-Express yourself ~Madonna