Some wear their hearts on their sleeves. Others wear convicted sex offenders on their biceps. The phrase “Rolf Harris tattoo” is now often used online to accuse someone of poor judgement, lack of foresight or even possessing a hard drive in urgent need of checking. But what happens when the person you immortalised in ink as a hero is later exposed as a sex offender? How do you live with a permanent tribute to someone whose reputation has been eternally destroyed? Does it get covered once they’ve been uncovered?
“I’ve had some requests which leave me baffled. I’ve turned away so many people who want something on their body which can only be looked at as offensive”
With Harris now going down in history for his indecent assaults on girls rather than his “music” or “art”, it may feel difficult to imagine why anyone ever wanted his name or face permanently etched into their skin. Yet there was an ironic appeal for a time.
In a 2022 Tweet, one man claims his friend acquired a Rolf Harris tattoo on his calf in the 1990s, “that period when Rolf did ‘Stairway to Heaven’ and was briefly popular in universities”. In 2015, Australian comedian Frenchy posted on Instagram a photograph of a fan’s tattoo of Harris’ name and a cartoon of such poor quality it could easily be a copy of one of Rolf’s. “This chick has a Rolf Harris tattoo”, he captioned it, adding: “Last night at my Newcastle show, she got up on stage and showed everyone #BestTattEver.”
Comedian Amy Gledhill told podcaster Richard Herring that she was, by her own admission, “not sober” at a house party when, listening to Harris’ song ‘Fine Day’, she urged a friend who could do “prison tattoos” – a phrase that would later acquire an unfortunate layer of irony – to permanently inscribe “Rolf” beneath one of her breasts and “Harris” under the other. Harris’ crimes were not yet publicly known. Indeed, Gledhill envisioned the tattoos as a romantic entrance exam, as only those in a “privileged position” would see them.
“If they don’t get how good Rolf Harris is”, she reasoned – although that may be too strong a word – at the time, “they don’t deserve to be there”. In fairness, such a decoration would constitute an effective gatekeeping exercise for potential lovers even now. The correct answer has simply changed, in that anyone who spots a Rolf Harris tribute on their new partner’s naked form and proves perfectly accepting should not be considered suitable for sexual congress.
Another regular culprit, in every sense, is Ian Watkins, the former lead singer of rock band Lostprophets. He was stabbed to death last year in prison, having been convicted in 2013 of multiple child sex offences, including the attempted rape of a baby. Tom of Maryland, USA, tells me: “I found Lostprophets back in 2001 and absolutely fell in love with their first album, ‘The Fake Sound of Progress’. Around 2008, aged 20 or 21, I got my tattoo. It’s basically a squiggle line art design (on my inner forearm). The squiggle came from the actual disc of their first album. I wanted something that no one else had and something that wouldn’t be overly ‘Lostprophets-y’, which I’m very thankful for after all the shit with Ian came out”. Watkins is credited with the album’s artwork, meaning Tom bears an image drawn by Watkins’ own hand.
“Unfortunately, my tattoo was one of the last things he retweeted before going to prison,” says Tom, “so it got a lot of traffic and negative comments. I do still have the tattoo and, these days, I tell people it’s just a squiggle. I do want a full sleeve eventually of similar artwork so it’s not alone. I don’t regret getting it because that album had a huge impact on my teenage years and many wonderful memories are tied to it.” He feels grateful he did not get a portrait of Watkins. “I’m thankful I wanted something so vague, even back then.”
In 2015, aspiring British model Ellia Beasley revealed her desperation to disguise a tattooed lyric from the Lostprophets’ single “Rooftops”, after learning of Watkins’ crimes. “I was ashamed I had something of his on my body and it’s stuck there,” she said, complaining of her struggle to keep it hidden whilst wearing crop tops at the gym. (She could, admittedly, have worn something less revealing). “Everyone kept asking me what I was going to do about it.”
Beasley endured over ten hours in the chair having it transformed into a giant owl. She confirmed that she was still planning another tattoo, this time of the Hindu deity Ganesh: the bringer of some (much-needed) good luck and wisdom. (Presumably because there were no revelations that could come out about him). Another fan from Cardiff tells me of acquiring a Lostprophets tattoo after feeling proud that the band came from Wales. The pride was short-lived. He chose to have it removed after Watkins was convicted.
While the crimes of Watkins and Harris have been proven by courts of law, there remains the question of what to do if one’s ink refers to a public figure who has unproven accusations of sexual offences hanging over them. Laura of Oregon, in the United States, confronted that dilemma after getting body art inspired by the works of a cultural figure who subsequently faced serious allegations of sexual misconduct, which he strongly denies. Her feelings switched as soon as the claims emerged. “It has made me incredibly uncomfortable and I dislike the tattoo immensely”, she tells me. “I’ve not had any friends or family ask me about it since the design is rather obscure and you’d have to be a fan to get the reference.”
“Unfortunately, my tattoo was one of the last things he retweeted before going to prison,” says Tom
Despite the absence of any backlash and the accusations remaining unproven, she is seeking laser removal. “I’m uncomfortable having something on my body from an artist that has serious allegations against him”, she explains. “If they prove to be false, I will still proceed with the removal as I am uncomfortable having art on my body that can be linked to despicable acts.”
While we may feel sorry for those who unwittingly sought a tattoo of someone who was hiding criminal activities, what of those who knowingly brand themselves with the image of a notorious sex offender? In 2019, tattooist Richard Oliver of Lambda Tattoo Studio in Halifax, in West Yorkshire, posted a photo on Facebook with the caption: “Zombie Jimmy Savile!! You probably have some questions.” I certainly did.
“The client I did the portrait on was one who I had tattooed a handful of times”, he tells me. “He would usually get more “fun” tattoos than meaningful ones. He walked into the shop and asked me to do him a Jimmy Savile portrait and my immediate thought was “hell, no!” – until we discussed the idea of having Jimmy dead and rotting. I explained it would be very controversial regardless, but felt at ease knowing we weren’t celebrating the man himself but showing him dead. I asked (the client) before we started if he was sure about the tattoo. He had waited a couple of weeks for his appointment and told me he was still very happy to go ahead. I asked him why he wanted it and he explained that both he and his partner thought it would be somewhat funny and daring.” Serial sexual abuser Savile targeted hundreds of victims, aged five to 75, across five decades.
“Once the tattoo was complete, my client was thrilled and I took videos and photos which I posted all over my social media platforms”, says Oliver. “It got many people’s attention and, from what I remember, only one comment from somebody asking ‘why would anyone even get that?’ The client has since moved away to Canada so I’m unsure what kind of reaction he gets. The tattoo is really high up on his thigh so it’s in a place where he can choose if he’d like to show it off.”
“I’ve had some requests which leave me baffled. I would say Jimmy Savile is the only design I’ve ever done which is controversial. I’ve turned away so many people who want something on their body which can only be looked at as offensive”. (Yes, even more so than a rapist’s decomposing corpse, apparently). “Tattooing is a service where most of the time we can cover self-harm scars and mistakes people have made in their lives”, he adds. “For example, I’ve covered quite a few “KKK” tattoos in the years I’ve been doing this job.” One wonders as to the political climate in Halifax.
That is the problem with commemorative tattoos – they can last longer than the reputations of those celebrated. The safest approach may therefore be to embrace the ephemerality of fame. Posters can be taken down. T-shirts can be thrown out. After all, tastes change, careers falter and, occasionally, a hero turns out to be a villain.
Comments