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It's 1945, and you want a tattoo. You drive to the part of town your mom warned you about, past scruffy bars and burlesque shows, and arrive at a tiny shop offering maybe 200 designs in three or four colors. An ex-sailor who just clocked out of his day job rinses off his tattoo machine. Five minutes and $2 later, your arm bears a patriotic eagle - a nifty example of Traditional American artwork, although no one will call it that for decades.
Now it's 2011 and you want a tattoo. You comb through online portfolios to choose an artist and call to discuss the design and book an appointment. When the day arrives, you drive to the funky-hip part of town. In a private room, the gloved artist unwraps sanitized equipment and chooses from dozens of colors of vegan-friendly ink. Six hours and $1,000 later, you're wearing a custom piece of art - possibly in the retro-cool style of Traditional American.
While getting a tattoo can still feel like a walk on the wild side, it's a pretty safe one these days. Few government entities police tattooing because it is considered to be a cosmetic procedure rather than a medical one. But tattooists have largely cleaned up their own industry, beginning in the 1950s in response to awareness of blood-borne illnesses.
Organizations such as the Alliance for Professional Tattooists say safer practices protect the clients - and the tattooists. ("I got hepatitis at Joe's Ink" is not a good advertisement.) Many top tattoo studios advertise their autoclaves and hygiene standards on their Web sites, right next to their artists' portfolios.
But that kind of public image has been a long time coming.
