Norman “Sailor Jerry” Collins was born in California in 1911 and died in Hawaii in 1973. His handpainted flash is the epitome of classic mid-century Euroamerican tattooing. It embodies the strength and assuredness reflected both in his tattooing
and his lifestyle. Working his entire career in prototypical seafaring communities, Collins was heir toa finely developed graphic language that was scrupulously shared with, and transmitted by, other conscientous practitioners of the ancient sailor’s
craft. A tattooer’s flash was his key to success, often eclipsing his actual expertise on the epidermis. The painted sheets are what sold the tattoo, and parlors vied to display a strong, varied, and eye-catching flash. Often these wall sheets were not‘even the work of the resident artists, and were perhaps left behind by transient‘occupants of that space, commissioned from well-known talents in the business, or ordered from tattoo supply houses.

The majority of Jerry’s career was spent in Honolulu’s Chinatown, the primary honky-
tonk district for seafaring men, where he occupied a variety of tiny storefront shops.
The final location, where he tattooed from 1960 until his death, measures only 9 by
18 feet. Working in such close quarters necessitated packing each sheet of flash
with as many designs as possible. During Jerry’s career, tattooing on the island of
Oahu could only be found in Chinatown. A variety of shops thrived there, with a
peak density during World War II. Each usually featured a squad of operators, all
vying for the serviceman’s dollar. Sailor Jerry’s competitive strategy was to offer
‘customers the best tattooing possible with the greatest range of colors and designs.
The style he championed was an American tradition developed by such artists as
Charlie Barrs, “Cap” Coleman, Amund Di Owen Jensen, Harry Lawson,
“Brooklyn” Joe Lieber, and Paul Rogers. Both work on skin and paper emphasized
bold outlines, heavy shading, elegance, clarity, and absolute neatness of execution.
The intent was to create tattoos that would age with grace and retain their integrity
fora lifetime. Flash, as well, was made to last. Jerry was scrupulous about using only
the finest quality materials to ensure his art on paper would endure. This was at a
time when fashions in tattoo designs changed very slowly, so a good set of flash
might be serviceable over many decades. Ironically, these traditional images fell
from general public favor during the initial years of the “tattoo renaissance” (1970’s
& 80’s) bur have enjoyed a surge of new popularity during the early 1990’s and are
‘now among the hippest “look” worn by international tattoo cognescenti. The rush
toward increasingly complex visual techniques and imagery that fueled the late-
century tattoo craze have begun to give way to renewed appreciation for tradition.

As in all traditional flash, the designs Jerry painted were a combination of images
he originated, adapted from outside sources (newspaper illustrations, cartoons, ete.),
or traded with other tattooers. The practice of exchanging “ruboffs” from the hand-
‘cut acetate stencils that accompanied each sheet of flash created a common design
pool among tattooers worldwide. Most tattooers lacked freehand al lity and relied on
tracing for their craft, first with the designs painted as flash, then following the
charcoal stencil imprint on the skin. It was common practice for tattooers leaving

‘one shop’s employ to surreptitiously rub-off as many designs as possible from the
stencil files. These could then be repainted, bartered, or used as leverage to obtain
a job in another shop or city. As good flash was a shop’s primary stock in trade, flash.
and stencils were closely guarded; popular money-making designs and new variants
that would appeal to the tattoo-wearing populace wear eagerly sought after. To
exact revenge for this kind of theft, Jerry would often purposely cut inaccurate
stencils for some of his key images, figuring that any tattooer without the eyes to

correct the drawing deserved to put on crooked work. Of course, any potential
recipient of the sabotaged image was the helpless pawn of this arcane infighting.

Realistically, the nuances Jerry prized would escape the eye of the average tattooer
or tattooee. A great one for systematizing rules and regulations of good design, he
was fanatical about the right and wrong way to draw, shade, and color each design.
While partially based on experience (his own and that of others he admired in the
business), these formal stylistic imperatives really boiled down to a matter of taste:
the ineffable esthetic preference which attracts or repels one to any form of art or
design. For Jerry, the shape of an eagle’s wing or the method of shading a tose were
matters of almost religious import. This ironclad conviction, combined with his
masterful hand and unswerving determination, create these paintings’ magnetic
force. One does not have to be tattooed to appreciate the following record of a
primary midcentury folk art tradition, expressed by one of its greatest practitioners.

Don Ed Hardy
Honolulu
February 1996