This is part 5 of my journal-style stories in which I recount my current life with a young woman, Zoe, who has come to live with me in my southern New Zealand city.

Twenty-five-year-old Zoe has something I will NEVER have. She’s a marked woman – inked with various designs. Previously, I’ve treated tattooing with disdain, seeing it as a trendy copy-cat bodily adornment that is sometimes ugly or poorly executed. It sounds like I’m a snob, or at the very least, out of sync with fashion. Maybe I am; but I’m also an artist. I appreciate excellence. I also love variety; to view changing exhibitions in galleries is a pleasure for me, so the permanence of tattoos is something I would never countenance for my own ‘body canvas’.

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Zoe is persevering with the physical labour of reclaiming and reorganising my badly-neglected garden. To fuel the machine, I feed her generous servings of whatever she wants to eat. She expends the calories in hard work. 

Here in southern New Zealand we’re enjoying a run of glorious late Autumn weather. Blue sky and warm sun make time spent outdoors agreeable. Zoe is often bare-armed as she toils, and this has exposed the large tattoos on the back of her neck and upper right arm. They are works of art.

Our appearance says a lot about us – sometimes in a demure whisper, sometimes in a shout of bravado. Initially, most people DO judge a book by its cover, to form an uninformed opinion.

In our own ways, Zoe and I have both been hiding in plain sight. She puts up walls with her abrasive communication style; I am removing those blocks by listening calmly to her and not biting back. Apart from their illustrative qualities, Zoe’s large tattoos make another statement: I am tough. I have had to endure pain. 

Over the years, I’ve put up a defensive barrier to the world myself (LisaMay is not even my real name). I have sought and found solace in the world of the imagination. Inside the house, my creative life has taken over to such an untidy degree that I’m too ashamed to invite anyone home for dinner. On the outside, I’ve isolated my solitary life behind an untamed garden that obscures me from public view. It probably looks like a crazy old crone lives here. I’m grateful that taunting children do not throw stones on my roof and call out abusive names. 

Zoe is tearing down the overgrown vegetation, giving me a good clip around my fears with my own barely-used pruning saw and secateurs, clearing away my past to provide an oasis of charm rather than a prison of disarray. She is taking pride in her work, and this is rubbing off on me to take more pride in my surroundings. 

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Now that Zoe has stopped showing me photos of cats up for adoption on her computer, we talk of other topics. After dinner one evening I asked her to explain the meaning behind her tattoos. She narrowed her eyes at me, perhaps expecting a negative comment, then realised I was genuinely interested. 

She told me the one on the back of her neck that spreads across her shoulders depicts Valkyrie wings. She reached for her computer (always close at hand) and found a website that explained more, then read this out to me as we sat companionably at the dining table: Valkyries were angels pertaining to Norse mythology who chose warriors from the battlefield and took them to Valhalla, the hall of the slain. Wings of a Valkyrie signify protection, truth and purity in one's soul.

Seeing that I was intrigued by the pictorial elements of her upper arm tattoo, Zoe took time to tell me all the design’s features, spoke of the artist who undertook the work, and where and when it occurred. I listened attentively, becoming drawn in to her tattoo world. 

Zoe explained her marking is all about personal identity, so it was crucial to her that it reflect her individuality. She worked out herself what she wanted the tattoo to depict. It is complex, so she wrote down all the motif’s meanings for me, saying it was easier to write it than speak it. I think she may have noticed that I read more than I talk. I noticed that her handwriting is open, boldly erect, and legible. It looked like a Valkyrie could have written it.

In New Zealand, tattooing is part of Maori art and culture. Maori designs have symbolic meaning, and are often ‘appropriated’ into fashionable tattoos for non-Maori. Zoe’s tattoo comprises an imposing tree, a mountain peak, and a complex patterned design emanating from the roots of the tree.

This is Zoe’s explanation: The tree shows her connection to nature and is symbolic of her University botany degree. It is an English oak, representing the British part of her family heritage. There is also a DNA helix shape, representing pursuit of personal heritage, and science. The main root of the tree is for safe travels. The mountain is Mt Taranaki, a dominant feature in the North Island province where Zoe grew up. The tattoo shows the Puakai Range on the side of the mountain, where Zoe loved to trek.

The intricate Maori-influenced designs comprise spearhead shapes for courage; parallel bands for strength, and other shapes representing love of teaching and pursuit of knowledge. 

The dominant shape within Zoe’s Maori design is the koru – the spiral represents the family as an unfurling fern frond; life itself.

Much as she may push against it, ‘family’ and how she relates to her identity is clearly very important to Zoe.

With the obvious emphasis on nature and growth in her tattoo design, I am also reassured that the re-design of my garden is in capable hands.