Toronto Star

Ephemeral ink is becoming a disappeari­ng art form

Regrets about a tattoo are almost as old as tattoos themselves

- ALYSON KRUEGER

When Skylar Hertz, a junior at Purchase College, got a tattoo of Snoopy smoking a joint on her left calf, she was pretty sure it wasn’t something she wanted on her body forever.

As an aspiring actress, she felt that having a tattoo could shape the roles she is considered for. She also knew a permanent tattoo would upset her family.

“I am Jewish, so, obviously, most of my family is not the biggest fan of tattoos,” Hertz, 20, said. (The Torah prohibits tattoos, and many rabbis and other members of the community are against the practice.)

Undeterred, she loved the idea of getting a tattoo. She chose Snoopy to honour her mother, who played the character in a production of “You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown.”

She added the joint to give it “a little twist.”

Instead of going to a traditiona­l tattoo parlour, she headed to Ephemeral, a company with a studio in Williamsbu­rg, Brooklyn, that uses a trademarke­d ink that fades nine to 15 months after it’s been applied; tattoos cost $195 (U.S.) to $450, depending on size.

Unlike other temporary tattoos, such as henna dye or stickers, Ephemeral tattoos, like permanent tattoos, are applied with needles and ink under the skin.

But some think the idea of a disappeari­ng body art completely defeats the purpose.

Joanna Acevedo, 24, who works in an ice cream shop in Prospect Heights, Brooklyn, has more than 100 tattoos all over her body: “The only thing I don’t have tattooed is my chest.”

Many of her designs are random, she said, listing “a crocodile, a cat skull, a barbed wire, the words ‘steak fry,’ an eagle, a cactus and an ice cream cone.”

“I like the fact that they are permanent because they are part of me,” she said. “They represent a moment in time, and I like living with all my history.”

She equates tattoos she doesn’t like to scars, another remnant, she said, from bad choices you made when you were younger.

Tattoo errors are human

Despite the bravado required to committing to a permanent tattoo, regrets are as old as tattoos themselves.

Sometimes the fix involves a lot of effort, as with laser tattoo removal.

“A laser light breaks up the tattoo particles and fragments them,” said Dr. Roy Geronemus, director of the Laser and Skin Surgery Center of New York. “It can take anywhere from two sessions to more than 10 sessions depending on the size of the tattoo. I did a woman this morning with a few areas on her finger that took me three to four seconds, and yesterday I did someone with a whole sleeve that took half an hour.”

Geronemus said his patients don’t experience any pain with the local anesthetic.

“I do see a number of patients who have made decisions spontaneou­sly without giving a lot of thought to the long-standing nature of what they’ve done,” he said. “A name that is no longer part of your life doesn’t belong on your body. In most cases the next partner doesn’t necessaril­y like the idea of the ex-partner’s name staring them in the face.”

Regret nothing?

Ephemeral’s fading ink was invented by two chemical engineers who specialize in protein, Brennal Pierre, 41, and Vandan Shah, 33.

Their work began in 2014 when one of Pierre’s students, who was also Shah’s research assistant, was going through a very painful and expensive laser removal process for a tattoo, and he wanted to know if it would be possible to remove it with an enzyme.

Once the question was asked, Pierre and Shah were hooked.

“It was so intriguing to us,” Pierre said. They spent the next seven years developing an ink that would be broken down by the body’s natural mechanism.

Ephemeral opened its first studio in Brooklyn in March. At the beginning of the summer, there was an eight-month backlog to get a tattoo, according to the company.

“We have folks flying in from Mexico City,” said Jeff Liu, 33, the chief executive of Ephemeral. Since 2015 the company has raised more than $26 million, it said.

Permanent tattoos “are placed with a needle technique that penetrates the dermis, the lower part of the skin,” Geronemus said.

“Once the ink is deposited, there is an inflammato­ry response that surrounds the ink particles and creates a matrix that allows the ink to stay and not migrate or disappear on its own. It’s inflammato­ry cells that surround the ink and allow it to stay put.”

Ephemeral’s ink is made of a material that the body naturally breaks down over time. The ink works in the similar way to biodegrada­ble medical devices like stents used in implants or sutures used in stitches. These products, like the ink, are broken down naturally by available oxygen and water in the body.

“It was more than creating ink,” Shah said.

Pierre and Shah are constantly trying to improve the ink. The company won’t let clients put tattoos on their hands or feet or faces because these locations haven’t been thoroughly tested.

Ephemeral estimates that over half of its clients are people getting their first tattoo, like Barbara Edmonds, 27, who works for a media sales company and lives in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. “I am a commitment-phobe,” she said.

So when she learned about Ephemeral on Instagram, it piqued her interest.

“Their tag line is ‘Regret Nothing,’ and that is basically why I decided to try it,” she said. On Aug. 7, she got a Claddagh ring, a traditiona­l Irish symbol that represents love, loyalty and friendship, on her right forearm, just below her elbow.

“I’m having great fun with it,” she said.

But she is also glad it’s temporary. “I think it’s an odd size,” she said. “I’m also like, ‘That part of my arm doesn’t look the way it used to.’ It’s freaky.”

 ?? CLARE SHEEDY THE ASSOCIATED PRESS ?? Christian Levkus, of Gallery 412, tattoos a dragon onto Renee Levkus.
CLARE SHEEDY THE ASSOCIATED PRESS Christian Levkus, of Gallery 412, tattoos a dragon onto Renee Levkus.

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