Artists who can only work on warm skin often run low on suitable surfaces; canvas just isn't the same they say as the paint chips off their raw behinds. Mother always said it was unhealthy, but that only pushed the young ones further along.

A panoramic view fully contained in the navel of a baby boy. The parents were thrilled, the baby was happy and stinky.

One young woman, a pioneer of her time, went so far as to get an image she found strangely soothing tattooed just above her genitalia. No butterflies or dolphins, simply a healthy young tree reaching up towards her belly, cradling her uterus. What was it that made it so relaxing? Was it really the sensation of stretching out into the sky that filled her chest every time she looked down (up?) on it? Was it really clinging to the ground for all its worth? It's that time of the month again, and she finds herself getting out the razor. Women are complex creatures, but some things are still dictated by biology (their roots quavering in the wind).