Photo Scott Campbell. Credit Deidre Schoo for The New York Times
As the best man at Justin Theroux and Jennifer Aniston's wedding; the husband of the actress and filmmaker Lake Bell; and the tattoo artist who has inked the likes of Sting, Marc Jacobs, Robert Downey Jr. and Courtney Love, the New York tattoo artist turned fine artist Scott Campbell has enjoyed a degree of media attention not usually afforded the anonymous skin-scribblers of the East Village.
But this week, Mr. Campbell, 38, may be making his most public statement yet on the peculiarly high-low nature of his career. From 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. Thursday to Sunday, Mr. Campbell will serve as both artist and tattoo artist in residence at Whole Glory, a one-man installation and performance at Milk Gallery on West 15th Street in Manhattan.
The installation includes a 50-foot-long painting by him, at the center of which is a small hole, about four feet off the ground, with a chair in front of it. Members of the public who so dare are invited to seat themselves in the chair for up to 90 minutes, their bare arm through the hole, while from the other side of the wal l, Mr. Campbell tattoos on them whatever rendering he sees fit, knowing nothing about the subjects — even what they look like — and with zero input from them. (A limited number of people will be selected each day via an in-person lottery; there are two lottery drawings per day, at 10 a.m. and 3 p.m).
To leave early is to leave with a half-tattoo: an actual, permanent one. To remain is, well, to receive an original Scott Campbell free.
Perhaps the exhibition is a comment on the permanence of art. Perhaps it's a comment on the shared madness of the general public. It's for the subjects to judge. Regardless, here's what Mr. Campbell had to say about the event.
Photo Scott Campbell's work.
What is the idea behind this project?
I've had lots of people come to me and say, "Do what you want, I totally trust you," but as a tattoo artist, you never have absolute freedom in what you create. Your canvas always has an opinion on what is going on them, which is great because sometimes you get inspired by the person, and the piece becomes a reaction to them. But it can also be a hindrance, because with any medium, it's always purer if you are unaware of the audience. You can get lost in the work without worrying what people will think.
How conspicuous will each tattoo be?
I'm telling people, it's about the size of the palm of your hand and it will take about an hour. I'll put them wherever there is room, if they have existing tattoos, or wherever I think it needs to be if they don't.
How will you decide what you'll give to each person?
I almost feel like there's a bit of a palm-reading aspect to it. I don't really know the person, but I'm physically touching them, reacting to them subliminally. I have a bunch of designs sketched out. Some of them I'll pull from books of mine, other ones I'll make up on the spot. The freedom is the most exciting thing to me, so I'm trying not to plan it out too much. I� �m doing this large painting that has a bunch of drawings and sketches and things on it, so you'll get a sense of the world that it's coming from, but no, it could be anything.
Do you feel a big burden of responsibility giving someone a surprise tattoo?
Of course. I'm probably as nervous, maybe more nervous, than they will be, because I never want to do a tattoo that someone regrets getting. But I think there is a bit of magic there in the exchange, the drawing-a-card-out-of-the-deck dynamic. Some people are asking, "How conservative are you going to be?" If I put a rose on every girl's arm and a skull on every guy's arm, it's not going to be an interesting project. It's not a real leap of faith. To do this performance justice, I'm kind of obligated to take liberties and push boundaries. The risk is what makes it interesting.
What is your philosophy about what makes a good tattoo?
I think a tattoo is a residue of an experience, and I think the experience itself is more important than the aesthetic of the tattoo. The great tattoos are always the ones that have great stories behind them. There's an element of ritual that I really try to be respectful of, and at the end of the day, the people who participate in this performance, you're getting a really great story.
Your body is full of ink from neck to toe. How would you characterize your own tattoos?
I'm not very precious about my own body. If you see me on the beach, I look like the bathroom walls of Max Fish. I get tattoos from people I love, in moments that feel significant. Sometimes they're beautiful tattoos, and sometimes they're not. But I have no problem having bad tattoos. It just takes away the luxury of denial. Nobody can go back and redo anything in their life. My experiences just happen to have left marks. I can't pretend I wasn't that 16-year-old in 1992 that got that purple scarab on their arm. There's an honesty to spontaneous tattoos that I embrace.
Correction: November 12, 2015
An earlier version of this article misstated the nature of how people are chosen for a tattoo. They are chosen via a in-person lottery, not a first-come first serve basis.
