Tattooed New York at The New-York Historical Society: Exhibition on view Spring 2017

Abstract

Reviewed by: Tattooed New York at The New-York Historical SocietyExhibition on view Spring 2017 Debra Jackson Casual observers of popular culture have no doubt discerned the proliferation of tattoos as the body art of choice among actors, athletes, and musicians. But, the delightful exhibition, Tattooed New York at The New-York Historical Society, underscores the point that "ink has gone mainstream." In fact, one in five adults have a tattoo. Whether worn as marks of political protest, as fashion statements, as silent proclamations of empowerment, or as personalized symbols, tattoos are a ubiquitous means of personal expression. Visitors to the exhibition will be charmed by each gallery's offerings, which demonstrates not only the extent to which the "ancient art of tattooing" has characterized relationships, but also its place in New York's social history. Indeed, the text on the exhibition's introductory wall declares that tattoos have "decorated sailors and society matrons, punks and presidents" and have been "both high fashion and underground art . . . symbols of camaraderie and inclusion, yet also a way to stand apart." In this pithy overview lies the key to the power and appeal of the exhibition: each gallery underscores the idea that tattoos, the most intimate of adornments, offers a visual language for appropriation by all; a form of expression that allows anyone the freedom to proclaim their sense of self with audacity or subtlety without uttering a word or sound. In the first gallery visitors encounter a seemingly prosaic record book, a "Fur trader's account book with Indians" kept by trader Evert Wendell, 1695–1726. The book is from the New-York Historical Society's collection, and is a fascinating object representing the business relationships between Dutch settlers and the surrounding native population in upstate New York. [End Page 305] The displayed pages show how a Seneca Indian, Tan Na Eedsies, documented an ordinary business exchange in an extraordinary way: in drawing "a pictograph of his tattoos next to his order" the Seneca recorded both the validity of the transaction and the distinctive designs on his face and chest that defined him as an individual, and also as a member of a community that shared his religious beliefs and view of the world. Equally compelling stories of how tattoos document an individual's identity can be found in the adjacent galleries. American sailors were tattooed with their initials as a matter of policy for purposes of identification. Those tattoos were recorded in "Seamen's Protection Certificates," which the United States Congress authorized in 1796 to protect sailors from impressment by the British Navy. An 1817 certificate is on display and documents the service of seaman Henry Moore. It is worth recalling the fur trader's account book with its rendering of tattoos identifying the Seneca Indian; the Moore certificate from a century later shows that tattoos are once again used in an official document for purposes of identification. But it is also worth noting the significant difference between the elaborate facial and chest tattoos of the Seneca, both rich in artistry and in meaning, and Moore's tattooed initials recorded and used as a kind of passport for seamen eager to defy Great Britain's rationale for impressment: "once a British subject, always a British subject." These issues prompt questions of birthright citizenship, and an appreciation of how radical the 14th Amendment to the United States Constitution was in the nineteenth century, and why it remains a subject of controversy and debate. Another compelling identity tale is introduced with the dramatic label text "Captured and Inked: The Adventures of Olive Oatman." In 1851, the Yavapai Indians kidnapped Olive and her sister as they traveled west with their family. The Yavapai later sold the Oatman girls to Mohave Indians, who tattooed them on the chin and arms, a traditional practice "meant to assure their safe passage to the afterlife." On display is the 1858 best-seller recounting the experiences of the girls, and includes a portrait of Olive on the frontispiece. The Oatmans were not held as captives by the Mohave, but were accepted as fully-integrated members of the community. And the facial tattooing would seem to symbolize both the...