Wayne’s travels are his body of work
Tattoos are more meaningful for those with skin in the game
The death of a stigma has given birth to a predicament for doctors: tattoos are now mainstream, meaning they have a lot of skin in the game ... but far too little expertise. According to a trio of dermatologists at Groote Schuur Hospital in Cape Town, the growing number of patients who are inked means it is time for clinicians to expand their knowledge of the ancient art form.
Rannakoe Lehloenya, Reginald Ngwanya and Thuraya Isaacs have published a comprehensive guide for doctors in the South African Medical Journal.
“Studies from 20 years ago suggest that health-care practitioners had negative perceptions of tattooed persons seeking care,” according to the dermatologists. But the prejudices historically associated with tattoos are diminishing globally and patients require treatment from health-care providers who may not be adequately informed.
The dermatologists hope their guide, which looks at classification of tattoos, epidemiology, motivations for getting a tattoo, medical applications, complications and removal methods, will bring fellow doctors up to speed.
Tattoo artist Simon White, who has his own studio in Claremont, Cape Town, said the move away from tattoos being associated “with sailors, prostitutes and pirates” began several decades ago.
But though social media had propelled the industry into the mainstream, he said it was sometimes at the expense of art. “Pinterest has been the death of originality,” said White.
“I say to them, ‘please don’t bring me photographs of other people’s tattoos. Bring me ideas’.”
Many of White’s clients are seeking help with poorly rendered images, spelling mistakes or the name of a lover or friend immortalised in ink before a big break-up.
White uses a laser-based removal system that can take up to 15 sessions to do its work, so he has also perfected the art of covering an old tattoo with a new design.
One of his clients, Veli Dlamini, 36, who works in the music industry in Cape Town, was 18 when he had a tiger inked on his arm that ended up looking more like a cockroach.
“I paid three beers for it,” he said. “This guy told me how brilliant he was and how he wouldn’t charge me much. I was watching a doccie about tigers at the time and I fell in love with their traits.”
While the tiger-cum-cockroach is slowly evolving into something else, Dlamini has added a Zulu warrior to celebrate his heritage while also representing the traits he needs in the music industry. “It’s a case of fighting for survival,” he said.
For Capetonian Wayne Morris, who works offshore, his body is where he collects travel souvenirs. About 80% of his body has been covered over 20 years by 71 artists, and he is working towards 100.
“I started in 1998 when I was 16,” he said. “I now travel for work and wherever I go I try to get a tattoo. I get advice from others who have travelled there and I look at work online.”
The only place where a dodgy artist inked his skin was Tasmania, he said. Everywhere else, it has been a well-rendered image that represents the place — a red light from Amsterdam, an elephant from Thailand, the stone heads on Easter Island. Next is a hammer and sickle from Russia.
For Bianca Capazorio, also from Cape Town, her tattoos mark specific times in her life and are part of a journey of empowerment. But she always pauses before getting inked.
“I have a rule that if I want a specific tattoo now, I’ll wait a year, and if I still want it then, I’ll get it.”
The first time she went to artist Warren Petersen, he warned her that tattoos were addictive. “I see now what he means, but for me the addictive part is not in the design phase or the pain — it is once I have it.
“I find my tattoos empowering. I have struggled with body issues throughout my life, and my tattoos, together with my love of weightlifting, are my way of creating a body I am happy in, on my own terms.”