So I'm settling in to tattoo a guy, I could best describe him as one of those 'Dad' guys. You know. The guys who are always in the Sears ads for Wrangler jeans and such. No coincidence that this happened on Fathers' Day. Crewcut with a goatee, y'know, so he could keep a little 'edge'. Pleated-front, plaid, knee-length shorts, deck shoes sans socks, polo shirt, that type. The kind of guy who would be the preppy villain in an '80s comedy movie if he were 22 years old. So, now he plays golf, has a dead-end job in middle management, and drinks two beers too many and hits on his daughter's friends at her graduation party. You know, that guy.
So, I'm settling in to tattoo him, and after a minute, he asks me, "So....where is Tattoo University?" Now, imagine he sounds like Lumberg from Office Space. I was wondering if he was gonna ask me for the TPS reports next. No shit, he really had that sorta condescending voice, like he was asking me that question as if he were about to deliver a punchline, or if he was trying to see if I was really stupid. So I answered him back, "There is no tattoo school."
He scoffed. "Really! So, it's just all, like....you're working...and-"
I cut him off. "You apprentice with someone."
"Who also has no education," he sneered.
I sighed and let off the pedal. "How does one become an electrician?" I asked. "You don't go to school, you become an apprentice. You train on the job with a master electrician. It's just like that."
"Ohhhhh, I suppose," He replied coolly. I glanced up from his bicep as I got back to work, only to see him sneer in disapproval. I dug in a little harder and said casually, "You know, I have two college degrees."
"Really?" he asked, perking up, as if he were relieved that I was, in fact, not one of the ignorant masses. "In what?"
"Commercial illustration, and graphic design. And you know what? My house is full of portfolios and paintings that are covered in dust because none of it meant jack shit and I make way more money doing this. How about that?"
He pressed his lips together and slumped back in the chair a bit as I kept going. I didn't speak another word, and, thankfully, neither did he.
Look, people, let me explain something to you. This is another symptom of these fucking tattoo "reality" shows. Everyone thinks we're all a bunch of uppity-ass art school grads. People like myself, up until ten years ago, were a total anomaly. For a long time, I was actually considered a joke by most of my co-workers for having an education. I have spent most of my career working with high school dropouts and ex-cons, and most of them can tattoo circles around me. While I was dicking around in school, hoping to break into advertising, my contemporaries were soldering needles under the watchful eye of a grizzled, chain-smoking old schooler. I had the fortune to be taken in as an apprentice by the same kind of guys, who overlooked my credentials and gave me a shot anyhow. I was told that my smarty-pants, highfalutin' art bullshit had no place in tattooing, and they were correct. I still maintain to this day that all my art education didn't do one thing to make me a better tattooer. But tattooing sure as hell made me a better artist. I'm not sorry I went to school, but if I knew then what I knew now, I might debate attending a bit.
Nowadays, people go to art school with the expressed intention of tattooing after they graduate, and good for them, I wish them the best of luck. But let me impress upon you, there is no advantage whatsoever to going to art school as far as tattooing goes. One of the best damn tattoo artists I ever saw was an apprentice for about a year, right after he got out of prison. Now he's gracing magazines, getting offers from all over the country for jobs, people travel several time zones to get worked on by him. And yet, some people almost crap themselves when they find out he never went to college, and they question his ability. In fact, I don't know if he even finished high school, and so what? He's brilliant. His portfolio is stunning. His work after two years is staggeringly better than mine was after ten. He just has a gift, and gifts aren't taught, they're innate. If a portfolio of knock-out tattoo work means less to you than some bullshit piece of paper with a university seal on it in regards to your tattoo artist, you watch way too much television.
