In the Tattoo Series, JJ Adams embarks on a audacious visual heist, commandeering the hallowed icons of yesteryear and arming them with the defiant ink of the streets. What began as a clandestine experiment in his West Sussex studio—where Adams, ever the storyteller, etched personal anecdotes from his tattoo apprenticeship into the skin of history's darlings—has evolved into a pulsating tribute to reinvention. Imagine Marilyn Monroe, her porcelain poise interrupted by swirling Maori waves coiling up her arm like whispered secrets, or Albert Einstein's wild mane framing equations that dissolve into tribal anchors, symbolising the anchored chaos of genius. This series isn't mere portraiture; it's a sly insurrection against the monochrome of memory, where Adams layers aerosol bursts and stencil shadows to breathe graffiti-fueled life into the frozen poses of fame.
At the heart of this collection lies Adams' most original gambit: the 'echo tattoos', subtle ink motifs that mirror the subject's unspoken regrets or triumphs, discernible only under raking light or prolonged gaze. For instance, in his rendition of Frida Kahlo, delicate fern fronds—drawn from the artist's own Mexican heritage—sprout as faux scars across her unibrow, blooming into defiant blooms that nod to her unyielding spirit amid pain. Similarly, David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust alter ego sports celestial glyphs that align with lunar phases, a hidden chronology of his chameleonic reinventions etched like cosmic diary entries. Crafted predominantly in acrylics on canvas or board, these works employ a restrained palette of obsidian blacks, bruised indigos, and flashes of electric teal, evoking the dim hum of tattoo parlours at midnight. Adams' sleight of hand with mixed media—fusing digital projections for precision with hand-sprayed drips for raw imperfection—ensures every piece feels like a living relic, scarred yet seductive.
The Tattoo Series extends its rebellious reach to British bastions, where landmarks succumb to the artist's irreverent touch. Tower Bridge, that steadfast sentinel of the Thames, emerges with riveted girders morphing into barbed wire vines, a commentary on resilience forged in fog-shrouded forges, complete with cheeky Union Jack motifs unravelled like forgotten promises. Queen Elizabeth II, reimagined in regal repose, bears a subtle crown of thorned roses winding down her sleeve, blending royal fortitude with the thorns of duty's weight. These larger-scale offerings, often spanning 100cm by 100cm, pulse with Adams' signature vigour, their surfaces textured like weathered hide to reward tactile curiosity. Yet beneath the bravado lurks a tender undercurrent: each tattoo tells of transformation, much like the artist's own odyssey from sign-maker to iconoclast. In a world craving authenticity, Adams' series stands as a bold manifesto, proving that even the immortals yearn for a little ink to keep their edges sharp.
