NEW YORK, NY.- With roots stretching back to the mid-19th century, the history of tattooing in New York City is bloodstained and a bit battered. Creativity has often flourished, but even through the 1990s, acceptance of the practice grew slowly, with tattoos seen by many as a calling card for renegades, criminals, sideshow performers, bikers and punks.

“New York City is the birthplace of modern American tattooing,” said Michelle Myles, 52, a tattoo artist who got her start in New York City in 1991. She is the co-owner, along with Brad Fink, of Daredevil Tattoo on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, and she is a licensed New York City tour guide, offering walking history tours about Bowery tattooers.

“The first electric tattoo machine was patented in 1891 on the Bowery,” she said, sharing her love of the city’s ink-stained history at the New York City Tattoo Arts Convention, a new event that was held over the weekend at Terminal 5, a music venue on West 56th Street. “The very first professional tattooer in the United States was in the Fourth Ward, which was a couple blocks east of the Bowery, a little southeast. He was Martin Hildebrandt, listed as tattooing in the New York City directory in 1858.”

The city’s relationship with tattooing, however, was not always cordial. In 1961, the practice was outlawed over health concerns, and that remained the case — at least officially — until 1997. The next year, a tattoo convention took place at Roseland Ballroom, and it was held annually until that venue closed in 2014.

A decade later, the creators of the New York City Tattoo Arts Convention hope that their event will create a new annual tradition — with plenty of old-school flair.

“It’s been a labor of love for about a year now, almost, maybe 10 months, of hitting it, asking for favors, begging tattooers and friends to come,” said Anthony Civorelli, 55, a tattoo artist who created the event and the vocalist of the Gorilla Biscuits, a seminal New York City hard-core band. “Everybody’s hugging and kissing. It’s great.”

Civorelli, who is known by most as Civ, worked with his wife, Meri — the owner of 9th St. Vintage in the East Village — to sift through thousands of applications, curating a lineup of artists who embody the history and heart of New York City tattoo artistry. Civ also worked with longtime friends, like Joe Cammarata, a co-organizer of the event, and John Scanlon, a show promoter who helped coordinate the live music, to make sure things ran smoothly.

Artists hailing mostly from the New York area — along with a few national and international tattooers — were assigned to 100 booths, filling all three floors of Terminal 5. The three-day event was held in conjunction with two sold-out punk and hard-core shows on the rooftop. Vegan food trucks lined the sidewalk outside the venue.

Before the doors opened at 2 p.m. on the first day, a line had already formed down the block.

The convention floor smelled of antiseptic and buzzed with the sound of tattoo needles. Booths were decorated with examples of tattoos — known as flash — hand-painted artworks and books for sale. Onlookers peered over the shoulders of tattoo artists, hoping for a better view of their techniques. People from all walks of life were brought together through the curiosity of permanence.

Occasionally, people would stretch out their limbs, lift their shirts and contort their bodies to just the right angle to show off their tattoos. Throughout the event, people exchanged stories of their tattoos, recounting their meanings — if they meant anything at all — and reminiscing on who they were at the time the ink went under their skin.

No two artists were alike, with designs that ranged from tebori-style tattooing, a traditional Japanese method of tattooing by hand, to the bright and bold stylings of classic American traditional tattoos.

Attendees could sit for tattoos from Marvin Moskowitz, a third-generation tattoo artist from one of the longest-standing tattoo families in the city. They could also have an 8-year-old named Ellie do a custom design — with a Sharpie — for $2.

“It’s pretty nuts,” Civ said of the event. “We’ve been doing this together since we were young and trying to come up and emulate the Ed Hardys of the world, the Filip Leus of the world. Those were our heroes. And now my friends are other people’s heroes.”

Carlos Chavarriaga, a tattoo artist from Bogotá, Colombia, and based in Brooklyn, said he drew inspiration from the other artists participating in the convention and the traditions they upheld. “Tattooing is a decision that you take for your body. It’s not just how you look, you know, it’s who you are.”

“I just feel like I’m going to be around this forever,” Chavarriaga added. His band, Raw Brigade, performed the first show on the rooftop. “I mean, there is no way out, basically. When you decide to be fully invested in this kind of world, there is only one way.”

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.