In the mid-90s, I spent some time in small, grotty rooms at the back of London’s Kensington Market, holding my friend’s hands, as one by one they got stars and fish and zodiac symbols inked into their pelvises. In the late 90’s, the night before we flew to Thailand, I sat in the chair next to Jason listening to the buzz of a needle etching the Eye of Horace across his bicep. I never really wanted a tattoo myself, but I’ve always been interested in other people’s. The Tattoo exhibition currently on at the ROM is both jarring and inspiring in equal measure. “Tattoos have been used to cure, honour, marginalize, control, punish, enhance, or demean the bearer,” reads the opening text. There is a stunning portrait of 97-year-old Kalinga master tattooist, Fang-Od Odday, taken by Jake Verzosa. There is an image of a young Jewish boy at Auschwitz tattooed by the Nazi regime, and one of a prostitute tattooed by her pimp. A short video shows a young Japanese woman removing her traditional silk kimono to reveal a naked body covered head-to-toe in tattoos. Silicone limbs in glass cases are a canvas for Montreal tattoo artist Yann Black. What I would have liked to see more of, are personal stories from everyday people talking about what the words and images inked on their bodies reveal about them. I can never resist asking about a person’s tattoo, especially if it’s in full sight. One of my all time favourites was on a lovely woman who used to own a Scandi-inspired clothing shop in Yorkville. On the inside of her arm, in large beautiful letters read the word, “grateful.”