The Modern Era: Art-for-Art’s Sake, Needles Included

What’s the point of art? If you had asked someone in the 19th century, they might have said that art’s purpose was to capture reality—a portrait, a landscape, a slice of life, neatly packaged and hung on a wall.

As the century turned, artists grew bored with merely mimicking the world. They began to ask, what if art didn’t have to be about reality? Enter the modern era, where art became about pushing boundaries, challenging perceptions, and making you feel something—even if that something was confusion or discomfort.

This was the age of Impressionism, Expressionism, Surrealism—movements where artists like Monet, Van Gogh, and Dalí decided that art didn’t have to look like anything at all. It could be a blur of colour, an emotional outburst, or a bizarre dreamscape. Art became personal, abstract, and a little bit rebellious. The artist wasn’t just a skilled hand; they were an experimenter, an individual with something to say, even if what they were saying didn’t make sense to everyone.

We look at art, and regardless of the subject, we still recognise it as art, though we might not always see it as good art. We may argue that it doesn’t deserve its spot on that wall, but we still acknowledge it as art. I once stared at a receipt in the Tate Modern for 20 minutes (Monochrome Till Receipt, 1999, Ceal Floyer) and my mind slightly broke at the reality of the situation and the undeniable understanding of the art hung on the wall in front of me—art that I had left in jean pockets and destroyed in washing machines countless times before.

As a society, we can hardly describe art anymore—it’s no longer real, nor surreal. It’s not an expression or impression...it just is. We don't justify it because it’s beyond that; it has this sense of otherness.

Now, let’s switch gears and talk about tattoos. Just as modern artists began to challenge the very definition of art, tattoo artists also started pushing the boundaries of what tattooing could be. For most of the 20th century, tattoos were seen as the badge of outcasts—sailors, soldiers, convicts, and the occasional punk rocker. For the past 175 years, every decade has seen headlines in newspapers and well-known fashion and art publications to the effect of: “Tattooing! The next big thing!” So why isn't it? Yeah, it’s popular—in fact, almost half of the UK population over 27 have tattoos—but why has it still not crossed that line into art?

People like Sailor Jerry in the 1940s began to transform tattooing from a simple trade into something more. He wasn’t just slapping on the same old anchor or pin-up girl; he was innovating, blending traditional techniques with new designs that carried deeper meanings. There is a longer article here specifically about the similarities between Jerry and seminal artists like Picasso, and the perfect storm of self-marketing, consumerism, and marketing passion...and maybe you can see that article in a later issue.

Fast forward to the 1970s and 1980s, and tattooing had started to really hit its stride. The needle was no longer just a tool for marking skin—it became a brush, and the tattoo studio transformed from a back-alley operation into a legitimate art space. Artists like Don Ed Hardy pushed the boundaries, experimenting with new styles, colors, and techniques. Tattoos were no longer just about saying, "I was here," but about expressing who you were, deep down. Just like their modern art counterparts, tattoo artists became explorers of the human condition, using ink to tell stories, challenge norms, and evoke emotions.

So why is it not the same? In the last 50 years, there have been a few large museum exhibitions on tattooing—seven, to be precise—but almost every time, there’s some element of trickery. Come for the history, stay for the art! You have to appreciate it; otherwise, you’d just be culturally insensitive—and no one wants that moniker.

So here we are, in the 21st century, where art and tattooing are both global, diverse, and celebrated for their individuality. In contemporary art, anything goes—digital media, street art, performance pieces. Artists today tackle everything from identity and politics to climate change and social justice. They’re not just making pretty pictures; they’re starting conversations—sometimes shouting, and sometimes whispering. Art is as much about the message as it is about the medium.

Tattooing has followed a similar path. No longer confined to the fringes, tattoos are everywhere—on CEOs, athletes, celebrities, and the person next to you at the coffee shop. Tattoo artists are recognized by their clients and tattoo appreciators worldwide, but can you imagine if this was still about paintings, sculptures, or music? “Nah mate, sorry. I just don’t recognise The Beatles as a valid contributor to the growth of society.”

When you compare the evolution of art and tattooing, it’s undeniable that both have undergone radical transformations. They’ve each emerged from the shadows, shedding their purely functional origins to become powerful forms of personal and cultural expression. Art has long since achieved a revered status, transcending its utilitarian beginnings to occupy a space of intellectual and emotional significance. It’s celebrated in museums, critiqued in academia, and auctioned for millions—a testament to its otherworldly status.

But why hasn’t tattooing achieved the same level of recognition? Despite its rise from a marginalized practice to a mainstream phenomenon, tattooing is still often seen as a service rather than a true art form. Even as tattoos have become more intricate, personal, and meaningful, the needle hasn’t quite earned the same respect as the brush. Why is that? Is it because tattoos are still seen as too personal, too tied to the body, to be considered “high art”? Or is it that society is slow to accept something that began in the backstreets and on the margins as anything more than a subcultural expression? If art’s value lies in its ability to express the human experience, then why are tattoos—often deeply personal and artistically innovative—still relegated to the status of a service? What’s stopping society from recognising tattooing as an art form in its own right?

The next time you find yourself pondering a painting that defies logic or admiring a tattoo that’s more than just ink, remember: both are part of a larger story. A story of breaking free from tradition, finding new ways to express the human experience, and making your mark—whether on canvas or skin. The value of both lies in the act of creation itself, but only one has fully been embraced by the art world. The next time you find yourself pondering the abstract shapes in a painting or the intricate lines of a tattoo, ask yourself: What makes one ‘art’ and the other just ‘ink’? Maybe it’s time we re-evaluate our perceptions and start giving the needle the same respect we give the brush. The question remains: Why does the brushstroke get to be art, while the needle is still just a service?

Written by Sean Colgrave, an academic tattoo artist and art writer.
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Sean will unveil his latest exhibition, The Literal Body of Work, in 2024 at the historic London Docklands