Talmadge Eva - The word made flesh: literary tattoos from bookworms

THE WORD MADE FLESH

Literary
Tattoos
from

Bookworms Worldwide

EVA TALMADGE & JUSTIN TAYLOR

I T S NOT THE WORD MADE FLESH WE WANT IN WRITING, IN FICTION, AND IN POETRY, BUT THE FLESH MADE WORD.

W ILLIAM G ASS , O N B EING B LUE

When we started this project in the summer of 2009over a meal of cheap tacos because the economy was in a nosedive and we couldnt afford much elsewe had no idea how big the trend of literary tattoos really was. We only knew that wed been seeing a lot of them lately: on our roommates, on writers, and even on our otherwise respectable friendspeople with jobs in bookstores, publishing houses, or just plain gray carpet-covered cubes. Hardly a gang of outlaws. But we knew literary tattoos were getting popular, and not just in our little corner of Brooklyn.

According to a recent Pew Research Center survey, 36 percent of people in the United States between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five, and 40 percent between the ages of twenty-six and forty, have at least one tattoo. Theyre mainstream now, as acceptable as pierced ears and daring haircuts, and almost as common. So it comes as no surprise that people you might label bookish typesthose librarians among us who know the Dewey decimal number for poetry by heart (Danielle, page 118) or the booksellers with a love of Roberto Bolao, Flannery OConnor, or just birds (Paul Dean and Adam Wilson, page 124 and page 126)would join the not-so nonconformist wave, inking a permanent declaration of love for books and writing into their very skin.

When we hatched the idea for a book of bookish tattoos, the first surprise was that it didnt exist already. The second surprise was how eager people were to be part of it. Obviously, we expectedanyway, hopedto get some attention, but the speed, size, and energy of the response were all very happy surprises. We posted our first call for submissions to HTMLGIANT.com on July 24, 2009, about a month after conceiving the project, and the first submission (from Jenni Ripley, page 22) appeared in our in-box that same afternoon. By the end of the summer wed been re-blogged all over the country and the world, and had enough material to make this book twice over, but we kept collecting, in search of the best of the best.

In these pages youll find favorite lines from novels, illustrations, portraits, and passages of verse; youll also find all kinds of testimony about the inspirations behind the tattoos: favorite books of childhood; commemorations of triumphant (or tragic) moments in lives; affirmations of friendship; drunken whims that might have (but didnt!) become cause for regret; a phrase or an image that just seemed too cool not to keep close forever. Every reason and none. Youll meet Robert Lee Emigh III (page 70) and see his tattoos inspired by Brian Evensons novella Dark Property; youll also hear from Evenson himself on the somewhat uncanny experience of encountering his own words on somebody elses arms. Youll see Katharine Barthelmes Born Dancin tattoo (page 32), a tribute to her father, Donald Barthelme, one of the great writers of the twentieth century; youll also have the chance to read the story that provided Katharine with the words, a short Barthelme gem that begins The first thing the baby did wrong Youll learn all about Shelley Jacksons Skin project (page 44). Jackson wrote a short story she is publishing, one word at a time, on the bodies of several thousand participants. Jacksons call for submissions and a wealth of statistics about the projects progress are accompanied by photos of several of her words, including those tattooed on the novelist Rick Moody, and on Phil Campbell and Emily Hall, a married couple who have written here a fascinating essay on their decision to become part of Skin.

The Word Made Flesh is all put together like a mix tape, one image intuitively following the next, or like a bookshelf ordered by no other system than a readers varied taste: Louise Bogan is happily paired with Theodore Roethke, Milan Kundera follows Miguel de Cervantes, and David Foster Wallace is in good company between William Gaddis and Thomas Pynchon. Another way to think of it would be as a seating arrangement at a dinner party: William Gibson sits between Margaret Atwood and William Blake, and Ray Bradbury is surrounded by Neil Gaiman, Philip K. Dick, and Ignatz Mouse. One can only imagine the conversation between John Greenleaf Whittier and Herman Melville, or how long it would take for a food fight to start up at the kids table, where Maurice Sendaks Wild Things meet the creations of Shel Silverstein and Eric Carle. Tattoos being, like books, quite addictive, many of our contributors boast more than one: Jack Kerouac shares one body with Chuck Palahniuk (Justin Haas, page 155), and another with Charles Bukowski (Caitlin Colford, page 157). Martin Amis appears on the same arm as W. H. Auden and Sren Kierkegaard (William Clifford, page 6). It makes for a raucous, eclectic gathering, as each contributor pays homage to a favorite writer or a beloved book (or several), and the tattoos themselves make their unchangeable declarations of selfhood, meaning, and literary association in an ever-changing world. We hope you enjoy these images as much as we have, and if you decide to join the party and get a literary tattoo of your own, we hope youll let us know. E-mail us at tattoolit@gmailcom.

Sarah Francis Hollis Covington, Kentucky

PORTRAIT OF JOHN BERRYMAN

I was introduced to Berrymans The Dream Songs about ten years ago, and I have been smitten ever since. I am a fine artist, and though Berryman created art by arranging words, I feel as though our respective works share many similarities, likenesses, and an all-around general syntax; it is that strong connection that compelled me to memorialize him, Henry, and Mr. Bones.

Jacob S. Knabb
Chicago, Illinois

FROM JOHN BERRYMANS DREAM SONG 1

When I got the tattoo, I wanted to preserve the typewriter font that houses these words in the book I have on my shelf and was able to find a tattoo artist to keep all the tiny serifs intact. This excerpt is simple and beautifulthe sounds are soft and resonant, but there is a complexity at work too. The poem ends with a succinct meditation on the intersections of youth and old age, on the nature of the world and how it wears away at everyone, until they are erased entirely, and how vividly we are able to foresee that in moments of great intensity. By capturing such a breathtaking image of beds emptied of the bones that have occupied them, these twenty-seven words resist the nostalgia that Berryman risks in ending his opening poem with such a mournful whisper.