Via Community News Service, a University of Vermont journalism internship
SOUTH BURLINGTON — A Japanese dragon loomed from a poster over the ballroom doors inside the DoubleTree, greeter and guard for the ink-filled labyrinth within.
There, attendees roamed between stalls lined with artwork: American traditional skulls pierced with daggers, surrealistic lady faces morphed with flowers in black and gray, 18 variations of Garfield and more.
So were the scenes at the Green State Tattoo Convention last week. Now in its second year, the gathering drew dozens of artists from across the country and hundreds of potential clients from states like California, New York, Ohio and Texas, all after the allure of fresh ink and three days of tattoo culture.
Jaime Pompa, who’s been tattooing for over three decades and owns Imperial Collective in downtown Burlington, came up with the idea for a Vermont convention after falling in love with the state in 2011 — having often traveled here from Los Angeles to take commissions.
He said that tattooing wasn’t nearly as big in Vermont as it was elsewhere, and he saw the convention as a way to make the state a premier destination for the art form.
“That’s one of the things I want to offer to tattooing,” Pompa said. “I made an effort to bring people from all over the place, not just Vermont, for a tattoo gathering where you share knowledge and you share tips and you grow. That’s the entire point, and that’s always been my purpose — to grow tattoo culture.”
Tattoos have grown increasingly popular in the U.S. Over a third of Americans have gotten tattooed in the last decade, decorating their skin at one of over 25,000 tattoo shops open nationwide.
But tattooing in Vermont has faced a sharp decline. The state legalized tattooing in 1996, and by 1999, there were 81 licensed shops operating statewide. But in only four years that number plummeted to 11 after the state began more strictly enforcing regulations, and business owners couldn’t tolerate the costs.
Since then, requirements like a 1,000-hour minimum to apply for a professional license have posed a stubborn barrier for aspiring artists. Convention manager Alma Sears, a hairstylist at Imperial, said navigating legal barriers made organizing a national convention difficult, too.
“People have tried to have a national convention, but Vermont just wouldn’t allow it,” Sears said. “But that didn’t sound right. We couldn’t imagine that it was impossible. So we hired an attorney, obtained the information and went with it. We wanted everybody to understand what tattooing is all about and get exposed to the camaraderie.”
Conventiongoers sifted through hundreds of pages of tattoo flash — repeatable pre-drawn and pre-priced designs that you could get on the spot. Other artists took on more ambitious projects: full-day sleeves, sprawling chest designs or pieces snaking down a person’s entire leg. Designs like those took anywhere from 6-12 hours and were the focal point of intense competition.
Artists entered their finished pieces in a contest at the end of each day, judged by a panel of experienced tattooers like Pompa debating categories for color, size, type and best overall.
On day two, artist Jason Griffith took home the Tattoo of the Day award with a Japanese dreamscape done in black and gray. Sakura flowers flit over the roof of a Shinto temple as a man pulls his rowboat bound for a sunset — all this overlaid in the divots of a woman’s cracked face.
The competitions were often the climax of the day, attendees gathering to see the winners. The artists would always clap each other on the back.
The competitions — and convention as a whole — offered a space for networking and a safe learning environment for people who had never gone under the needle.
“People who haven’t been tattooed have the opportunity to look at 40 or 50 different artists and make a more informed decision about what they want,” said Emily Falkowski, a tattoo artist from Wild Card Tattoo Co. in Providence, Rhode Island. “Also it’s great for artists too because you get to see so many other people’s work, and the art is really great for the community.”
Traditionally, tattoos were thought to be the province of biker gangs, mafia lackeys and rebellious teenagers marking themselves on the outskirts of conformity. Events like the convention, and the attention they garner, play a role in dispelling those stereotypes.
The proof was right there on the ink-covered parents pushing strollers through stalls with babies clutching flash prints; the swaths of college students huddling to deliberate placement options; and the older folks signing up for gap-fillers in the little uninked skin they had.
One attendee, a teacher, said she’d been getting tattoos since the ’80s. Her first was a six-pointed shooting star with a rainbow trail drawn by a student. Who wears tattoos has changed in the 30 years since, and people should accept that, she said.
“This is fun, people are happy and they’re getting a break from all the craziness in the world. How could that be wrong?”