Tag Archives: bald head tattoo
Decided to go to the “Career Orientation Exhibition” in Paris. Vero drew a compass on my head for the occasion. I thought it was appropriate. But I was the only one.
The idea was that it would be the first tattoo of many. People would flock to express their artistic talents on my Wipe ‘n Draw canvas.
Despite my (inviting) hoodie, no-one “stopped me and drew one”.
But I did help some of Paris smile.
- A lady in the Metro.
She was a bit concerned that “North is South, South is North, West is East and East is West” (I was sitting the wrong way round).
- A little boy.
He wanted to adopt Garfield. Nothing to do with my head, but still.
- Two career advisors.
They were amused by the fact that I think a compass is relevant for a career orientation exhibition.
- A lady handing out condoms.
She wanted to “give me one” as protection for my head (Christ only knows what she was thinking).
- A guy in the metro on the way home.
But he may have been winking for other reasons.
Chris pointed me to a certain Mr Philip Levine who has been arting around with his bald head for years. So I can’t claim to be the first (dang and blast!)
My first Bald Art outing… Lilou agreed to get the ball(d) rolling with an operatic tattoo. The notes are from “Castanet Song” from Carmen (although your probably wouldn’t have guessed). She WAS going to write the lyrics underneath, but as you will see further down the page, Mr Bizet was in “Tim Rice” mode the day he wrote it…
Posing proudly behind us is “Opera Garnier”.
So far, the tattooed bald head has had quite some success in making Paris smile:
- An usher at Grand Rex Cinema who wanted one just like it on HIS bald head.
- A guy settling down for the night in the Metro who just couldn’t stop laughing… Although he MAY have been laughing at something else entirely. Hard to tell.
- A group of friends having a friendly bet as to whether it was permanent or not.
At least I hope it was a friendly bet and that the glum looking girl hadn’t just lost her home.
It felt rather good after three years “Prisoner in Paradise” to find myself in the “less-than-paradisiac” The Frog at Bercy Village (Paris). Extra excitement provided by the Spain / France quarter final in the European Championship. The ambiance was terribly pro-French and everyone was jolly.
The (rather lovely) bar lady helped me to help Paris smile by tattooing my head with a tri-color heart.
It worked a treat. Several Parisian smiles later, France had lost 2-0.