Scarred for life

It began with little things. When she was 18, senior Darcy Carson got her eyebrow pierced. She's been hooked ever since.

After the initial eyebrow ring, Carson began transforming her body -- getting multiple piercings in her ears, including dermal punches in the cartilage, two industrials, a surface bar, and orbitals in her ear lobes.

Eventually, Carson met a "really enthusiastic" piercer who informed her that "there were more fun things [she] could do than generic piercings."

It was this friend who introduced her to scarification as a form of body modification last February. According to Wikipedia, scarification is the process of creating body art with scar tissue. Like an inkless tattoo, the design, called a "piece" when completed, is formed from a series of abrasions created using sandpaper, power tools or scalpels. Most cuts are two layers under the skin's epidermis -- one-eighth to one-sixteenth of an inch deep.

Carson admitted she was nervous before the procedure, which took more than an hour and a half to complete.

"[It felt] like someone was ripping all the skin off my chest," she said. It wasn't over after she left the salon, either; Carson bled for two days and wore a bandage on her chest for weeks.

Today, Carson proudly displays the deep-purple scars on her chest, which resemble the chain of a necklace with a big pendent in the middle. She doesn't like wearing jewelry, she said, because she's afraid of losing or breaking it. By having a necklace imprinted in scar tissue, she can be sure it isn't going anywhere.

Even now, months after a procedure that left her literally scarred for life, Carson still can't really explain her spiral into the world of body modification.

"[It's something] you have to try for yourself to understand," she said. "It's a hobby -- it's an art form I appreciate. It's a way that human beings can show innovation and creativity. People come up with some amazing stuff."

The resurfacing of an ancient tradition

According to a 2003 poll, 36 percent of Americans ages 25 to 29 have one or more tattoo.

But humans have been finding creative ways to embellish their bodies since the beginning of recorded history.

The word "tattoo" can be traced back to the Maori and Western Pacific peoples who rubbed cuts with ash to form blackened scars. Facial tattoos were popular among the indigenous people of Japan, and mummies more than 2,000 years old found in Western China were discovered to have animal-shaped tattoos on their arms and legs.

There is no evidence indicating a single origin for a particular technique or design. The Huns of China are reportedly the first people to engage in ritualistic scarification, although it was more of a masochistic trait than a cultural practice.

While she thinks scarification is more popular than it was five years ago, Carson doesn't see scarification ever becoming as popular as tattoo art. She describesd scarification as an ancient tradition slowly beginning to resurface in society, but is hesitant to call it a trend. Many still think scarification, although legal, is taboo, she said.

"Now at least more people have heard about it," Carson said. "It is like a tattoo because it will be with you forever, but you have to have the ability to withstand a great amount of pain."

That's not to say the process is easy, nor is it for everyone.

"It's a lot more than most people are willing to undergo," she said.

"I like pain"

Carson isn't afraid of pain. In fact, the challenge of overcoming one of the most painful experiences she's ever faced was part of her attraction to the process.

"It's exhilarating, it's a way I can feel what my body is capable of and what I can take. There is a little bit of masochism in me," Carson said. "Half of the reason I do it is because I think it looks cool. The other half is the addicting feeling of endorphins releasing as a result of the pain."

Phish, a piercing artist and manager at Slave to the Needle in downtown Seattle, has performed hundreds of scarification procedures for his customers -- all without the use of anesthetics.

It's a misconception that body alterations are only for the extreme, he said.

"We get all types of people in here -- doctors, lawyers, police chiefs, we get them all," he said.

Taboo but still legal

One thing all of Phish's customers have in common is age. Phish refuses to pierce, tattoo or cut anyone under age 18, even though Washington State does not levy age restrictions on those who want body modifications.

Tattoo and piercing parlors are bound by few state-mandated regulations. All must have a general city business license, which is required of any organization that uses a business name, employs workers and grosses more than $12,000 per year.

Furthermore, according to a representative from the Department of Licensing, Washington State makes no distinction between different forms of body modification, meaning scarification is legal in any tattoo parlor, despite the differences in procedure.

Troy Amundson, a piercer at Apocalypse Tattoo and Piercing on Olive Way, has been working to pass a state law regulating body piercing. Amundson's proposal would codify body piercing health-and-safety standards like sterilization, while establishing age restrictions to "bring professionalism to the industry, and take a stance on public health and safety."

Most body piercing shops will still check for identification and require parental permission before piercing underage clientele.

Carson said the piercer who cut her piece was a personal friend and that she "would trust him with anything."

But Carson encouraged those interested in any body modifications to research the process before going under the knife.

"Because there are no regulations, there is more room for unsavory characters to get away with sub-par work," she warned.

More to come

Carson has no regrets about any of the things she's had done to her body. All her friends tell her they think her scar is cool, at least to her face. The only negative reaction Carson's had to her scar was in a dressing room at the GAP, when a woman "literally clutched her throat and started to gag," she said.

"I've always been of the mind people should accept me for who I am and what's in my mind rather than what's on my body," she added. "I'm still the same person, I've just become more independent through my college years and found something that I love."

Last week Carson went to watch a friend get silver rod implants so he will be able to screw jewels into his arm. She would like an implant herself some day, or maybe tattoo sleeves fully covering her arms, but right now she doesn't have the money for the procedures, which cost between $100 and $200 per hour.

"Right now for a broke college student implants just aren't feasible," she laughed.