A tattoo artist's blog...this may not be the first and I certainly don't suspect it will be the last. So why? Well, I've put in a decade in the industry. Now, that's not a lot, when you consider there are still a lot of the old-timers from the 1960's and the 70's who are still going strong, failing eyesight and arthritis be damned. But, when you look at it in the volume of experiences and stories to tell, it seems like a lifetime. As the dear old man who apprenticed me used to say, in his gravelly, nicotine-stained voice, "More stories than the naked city." Rest in peace, boss. I miss ya and I love ya.
But I am always being asked questions. "What's the weirdest tattoo you ever did?" "What happens when people faint?" And the question I hate most of all, "Do you watch Miami Ink?" No, no, NO! And I'll tell you why. Well, there is the obvious reason that if I sit in a tattoo shop all day and night, do I really want to go home and sit on the couch watching the (phony and well-edited) goings on of another tattoo shop? Please, I'd rather gouge out my eardrums with a fourteen round. But mostly, I know for a fact that you're not getting the real story of what it's like when you watch one of those shows. First, there is the very slick editing and the censoring of the language. A tattoo shop without invectives and cursing is like a zoo with no animals. Second, there is a 'screening process' for that show. You have to submit your design, a bio, a PHOTO to test your camera-worthiness for God's sake, and the story of why you're getting the tattoo to see if it makes for good TV fodder. How charming. You know what makes for good TV? The bumbling idiot who has to call home to ask his wife how to spell her name before he gets it tattooed on his chest. A four-hundred pound woman who waddles in and wants her clitoral hood pierced, and the spelunking expedition that ensues to accomplish this. The pukers, the fainters, the psychopaths, THAT, my friends, is must-see TV.
So, in the spirit of kindness, and in my great disdain for the sanitized, polished verion of tattooing that the world has gotten numbed to thanks to television, I bring you the real story. I bring you the uncut verion, the raw truth, the stuff they'll never show you, what it's really like to view it from this side of the machine. Now, I want to make it clear that this is not to badmouth the industry. Tattooing has been very good to me in a lot of ways. I've had a good run, made some good friends, learned a lot about life and business and grew as an artist. I'm not attempting to smear anyone, or to make a mockery of the industry. But, as I found myself increasingly cornered in social situations, when the nature of my work came up, and pressed for details about what it's REALLY like, I began to realize I had to find a way to get the story told. The cable channels aren't knocking on my door to do a show, and I certainly hope they don't. I'd rather tell it with no interference, no censoring, no sanitizing.
All names will be changed to protect the innocent, however, out of respect. This isn't the place where I'm going to slaughter my co-workers, I'm merely reporting the stories as I see them with my cranky little eyes. And, if you think this is a how-to, or a place where I'm going to reveal trade secrets, no siree. I'm not going to help anyone to do my job. So, lifers, breathe a sigh of relief. Scratchers, piss off. Get a real apprenticeship like the rest of us did and quit trying to find new and exciting ways to fuck up your friends' flesh in your basement.
So, sit back, relax, and get ready for a lumpy, bumpy, bloody ride. Get ready to laugh a little, cringe a lot, and learn a thing or three. Get ready for some Angy Ink.
