Who says a neighborhood tattoo has to be a stenciled image spray painted on the sidewalk or cement wall/post?

Since neither spray painting nor stenciling are my fortes, I decided to take this task from a different angle. Traditionally, tattoos are made of ink (I can bear witness, as my body is covered with them). Therefore, a person wouldn't tape or glue an image onto their skin since the permanence would be questionable. But what about the permanence of an object affixed to a wall? Well, you better get your hands on some pretty damn strong glue.

In the spirit of "Object Annotation," I decided to tattoo my neighborhood with an ode...to the neighborhood. Yet unlike my rendering of Object Annotation, my piece of artwork would be permanent. (I'm still a little bitter about the desecration of my ode to the tuning fork...) The ode itself is more of a poem. A glimpse of living in my wonderful neighborhood.

I started off with a black and white photograph I developed in my darkroom a while back. If you can't tell from the digital picture, the subject is an orange tree with fully ripened fruit. The photo (original) was taken with my old (1970's era) and heavy Nikkormat camera, the short lived spawn of Nikon. I'm pretty sure I used Kodak T-Max 400, a grittier film that does well in low light. Anyways, after rummaging around in my closet for the photo, I decided to write the ode (poem) directly on the photo paper. Bad idea. Not only because black and white spotting pen takes ages to dry and permanent black pen smears, but I have HORRIBLE handwriting. The Royal to the Rescue!

After supergluing the poem onto the photograph, I laminated the whole thing with something called "contact something or other," purchased at an art store on Shattuck Blvd. I also purchased Bond 527 Multi-Purpose Cement, a fairly strong glue. I was set.

After getting my hands on a map of Berkeley's pathways, I determined my intended route through the maze of secret north Berkeley paths (in the area that I live). After settling on a location for the tattoo, I then adorned myself in proper Ninja Vixen attire. This consisted of a skin tight, gray knee length Diesel jacket and gray tinted Express jeans, accompanied by black, calf length leather boots with four inch heels. Completing this ensemble was a black (East Indian) headscarf fashioned around my face. Oh yes, an application of dark makeup was in order: to intimidate any dissidents of course!

I then checked my inventory of objects needed:

outfit-check
tattoo- check
glue- check
flashlight- check
keys- check
Nikon coolpix L4 (can't afford anything else)- check
handcuffs- check

Time to set out.

After saying goodbye to my house and beloved GTi, I made my way through the labyrinth of footpaths. Unfortunately, I didn't run into any suspicious onlookers. After nearly falling into a blackberry bush, I maneuvered my way through the night and arrived at my location. I scurried up the stairs (covertly) and affixed the tattoo. Goal achieved! Except... mid application, a car drove by and paused at the foot of the stairs. Did they see me? They drove away. Satisfied with my completion, I stood up and gazed out upon my neighborhood. I could see the Golden Gate in the distance. I then made my way home and fell asleep on my bare bed (I was too lazy to put my clean sheets on) and woke up in the morning to find that makeup was smeared all over my face.

Was the tattoo still there? I emerged from my den, disoriented by the sunlight, and ran down the path in my pajamas. I passed a person on a stroll who stopped me as a I ran by with my digital camera and glue (just in case).

"It's little late to be in your pajamas!"

"Late?" I answered.

"Of course, it's 1:30 in the afternoon."

I nodded sheepishly and continued to run down the path. I made it. It was still there! I tried peeling it off but it was stuck tight. In all it's glory, I documented it and then ran home. It was coffee time.

Task complete.

*for anyone who can't make out the poem, here it is.*

Sattelite flashing over a slumbering town
Where people-paths cross-cross through tree ridden ground
Un-plucked fruit dangles from the hands in the sky
Reaching towards me and I slowly pass by
Take me to that long lost place
Where soul-lights shimmer on unmarked graves
Lull me to sleep and shroud me in song
Then beckon the Sun when all stars are gone
I open my eyes to the golden green breeze
And I'm home again.