The barbed wire tattoo is back and ready to stab your memory
From Russian prisons to Pam Anderson to now
When Americans picture the barbed wire tattoo, it’s on the flabby bicep of a formerly buff pharma rep who went through a Harley-Davidson phase. Or on the lower back of an honorable mention beauty queen. Or on Pamela Anderson.
But like every other dusty trend and Splash remake, millennials are making barbed wire their own. Influential tattoo artists and v. hip Instagram influencers are inking it afresh. But it’s not as simple as looking tough for the next hipster skee ball tournament. The history behind the symbol proves controversial.
As American pioneers moved West in the mid-19th Century, they discovered the flat plains and wide grasslands of the frontier contained few natural resources with which to build fences. In the East and New England, settlers could divide land by pulling stones from the native soil and wood from forests. Without these materials, pioneers in the West attempted to protect crops and contain livestock using furrow fences, earthen ridges, and hedge fencing — all of which were insufficient.
The first patent for barbed wire was issued in 1865 to Louis François Janin, who twisted two wires together and tied them with diamond-shaped barbs. By 1867, there were six patents total, including one called “The Wooden Strip with Metallic Points.” But credit ultimately goes to the “Big Four” in barbed wire design — Joseph Glidden, Jacob Haish, Charles Francis Washburn, and Isaac L. Ellwood — who produced superior products out of De Kalb, Illinois. They promoted and sold throughout the new frontier, banking on the inexpensive, easily transportable fencing solution.
Besides land cordoning, barbed wire was used during wartime to prevent enemy encroachment or to contain prisoners. The Nazis used barbed wire when constructing concentration camps, since it had the added “benefit” of conductivity and could be electrified.
Barbed wire is adaptable to different environments or for different uses. Sometimes wires are looped over a chain-link fence, or angled toward potential climbers. The wire itself comes in many iterations, some with spurs or sawtooths instead of traditional barbs. But every version, however minimal, messages a silent hostility.
The success of barbed wire spread like brushfire. Its symbolism in war and private property, and as an agent of pain made it ripe for tattoo interpretations. According to tattoo historian Carmen Nyssen, it “typically represents confinement, struggle(s), repression, rebellion, sacrifice(s), overcoming adversity, etc.”
Early instances of barbed wire ink were seen among Russian prisoners in forced labor camps during the Stalin era, who tattooed their foreheads if they were serving a life sentence, or perhaps their arms or other body parts for shorter terms. Each barb on the wire represented a “deed” accomplished (such as murder or theft) or another year the individual had spent behind bars.
Some also point to the similarities between the design of barbed wire and the crown of thorns Jesus wore during crucifixion.
And then there’s Pamela Anderson, who revealed her ink in 1995 while filming the movie—wait for it—Barb Wire. She told The Los Angeles Times at the time, “The makeup people were going to paint this on my arm every day, but I had a tattoo artist just sketch it on me and I wore it around for a half a day to see how it looked. I decided I’d just go ahead and get it done. I love it. I think it’s very feminine, for barbed wire.” These days the tattoo is barely visible as Anderson undergoes removal.
After Anderson popularized the look, 1990s counterculture copycats clamored for barb tats. They became so pervasive, mostly among men, that comedians like George Carlin poked fun at the cliche. “Some guy who hasn’t been laid since the bicentennial wants me to think he’s a bad motherfucker because he’s got a picture, a painting of some barbed wire. I say, ‘Hey, Junior, come around when you have the real thing on there. I’ll squeeze that shit on good and tight for ya.’”
It’s a regretful truth that tattoo trends come and go as easily as Crocs, but to see this design resurface so soon is curious. Nyssen thinks people are becoming more aware of the decades-long history behind certain designs.
Just don’t say that to Pam Anderson’s face.
