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smackenzieSo we discuss foot tattoos and what he wants the pigs to look like, and he makes an appointment to get one of his feet tattooed. It's been a while since I did a foot. I'm looking forward to it.
After him is a guy in his late twenties who wants what amounts to a Japanese landscape painting on his back. For his first tattoo. He wants tall craggy mountains, scrubby, spiky pine trees, a tiny figure with a tiny walking stick hiking up a cliff, and a tiny temple nestled halfway up one of the peaks. Tattoos that mimic brush paintings and ink washes and watercolors are some of my favorite kinds to do, and I was very excited when he came in, asked for me specifically, and explained what he wanted me to do. He brought along some examples of prints and paintings, but ultimately, he said, he wanted an original. I explained that he would have to sit for long sessions, and it would probably take at least two visits, and that seemed like a lot for his first tattoo. He reassured me it was ok, he was prepared, he knew it would take a long time, and this was really what he wanted. He handled his first session well, although two hours in he needed to take a bathroom break, and we were both pleased with the results.
I think he might need a third session after today, but I'll know better after I'm done.
"This healed beautifully," I say, brushing my fingers across his back, over the parts of the tattoo that I've already done. For once I don't see anything that I'd change, if I could start over. This is a near-universal problem with artists that I don't see quite as much of in tattoo artists - the critical eye for everything that you've completed. I'v never met a painter, illustrator, sculptor - any medium, really - who didn't want to fix something in a piece even after it was finished. Tattoo artists don't always feel quite the same way, probably because we don't tend to be confronted with our work after we've done it, and partly, I think, because the exchange between artist and client is different. Someone comes into a tattoo studio to get something put on their body that has meaning for them, and the tattoo artist's job is to do it for them. Whereas a painter normally produces paintings without a specific client in mind. There aren't always people lined up to buy the work before it's finished, and the painter has the luxury of looking at a finished piece and thinking "I should have used a different color here" or "I could have moved the light source there" or even "That hair is out of place, I need to fix it".
Obviously tattoo artists need to be pleased with their work. It's just as important for the artist to be proud of what they've produced as it is for the client to be pleased with what they've gotten. But at the end of the day, we do our work for someone else, someone who has effectively commissioned us to make something for them. We don't have the luxury of disliking what we've done, because it isn't for us to like.
Although who knows, back in the days of patronage, when the great canon of classical Western painting was coming into being, no doubt all those painters looked at their finished works, after their patrons had registered approval and paid up, and thought "That person's eyes are crooked" or just "That looks like shit, why would anyone pay me for it?"
Even so, if I were to look critically at one of my tattoos and decide I needed to fix something, halfway through the process is probably the best time to do it. Just not today, and not with this particular tattoo.
"I keep it covered," the client says. "My boyfriend helped me put ointment on it when it was healing."
"Tell him he did a nice job."
"He knows."
I sense a little smugness in his tone, what is no doubt a little self-satisfaction at how he showed his gratitude.
Maya drifts over after a while to look over my shoulder at how the tattoo is progressing.
"That's gorgeous," she says, as much to the client as to me. "Why a Japanese landscape?"
"I'm studying art history," he explains, "with an emphasis on Asian art. I spent a year in Japan teaching English, that's how I got interested in it. I did poll sci as an undergrad."
"Interesting. I know you love this stuff," Maya says to me, then "Is this your first tattoo?" to the client.
"Yep."
"He's doing really well," I tell her.
"I haven't passed out yet." He turns his head so he can grin at Maya, who grins back.
words: 774
total words: 23,095
After him is a guy in his late twenties who wants what amounts to a Japanese landscape painting on his back. For his first tattoo. He wants tall craggy mountains, scrubby, spiky pine trees, a tiny figure with a tiny walking stick hiking up a cliff, and a tiny temple nestled halfway up one of the peaks. Tattoos that mimic brush paintings and ink washes and watercolors are some of my favorite kinds to do, and I was very excited when he came in, asked for me specifically, and explained what he wanted me to do. He brought along some examples of prints and paintings, but ultimately, he said, he wanted an original. I explained that he would have to sit for long sessions, and it would probably take at least two visits, and that seemed like a lot for his first tattoo. He reassured me it was ok, he was prepared, he knew it would take a long time, and this was really what he wanted. He handled his first session well, although two hours in he needed to take a bathroom break, and we were both pleased with the results.
I think he might need a third session after today, but I'll know better after I'm done.
"This healed beautifully," I say, brushing my fingers across his back, over the parts of the tattoo that I've already done. For once I don't see anything that I'd change, if I could start over. This is a near-universal problem with artists that I don't see quite as much of in tattoo artists - the critical eye for everything that you've completed. I'v never met a painter, illustrator, sculptor - any medium, really - who didn't want to fix something in a piece even after it was finished. Tattoo artists don't always feel quite the same way, probably because we don't tend to be confronted with our work after we've done it, and partly, I think, because the exchange between artist and client is different. Someone comes into a tattoo studio to get something put on their body that has meaning for them, and the tattoo artist's job is to do it for them. Whereas a painter normally produces paintings without a specific client in mind. There aren't always people lined up to buy the work before it's finished, and the painter has the luxury of looking at a finished piece and thinking "I should have used a different color here" or "I could have moved the light source there" or even "That hair is out of place, I need to fix it".
Obviously tattoo artists need to be pleased with their work. It's just as important for the artist to be proud of what they've produced as it is for the client to be pleased with what they've gotten. But at the end of the day, we do our work for someone else, someone who has effectively commissioned us to make something for them. We don't have the luxury of disliking what we've done, because it isn't for us to like.
Although who knows, back in the days of patronage, when the great canon of classical Western painting was coming into being, no doubt all those painters looked at their finished works, after their patrons had registered approval and paid up, and thought "That person's eyes are crooked" or just "That looks like shit, why would anyone pay me for it?"
Even so, if I were to look critically at one of my tattoos and decide I needed to fix something, halfway through the process is probably the best time to do it. Just not today, and not with this particular tattoo.
"I keep it covered," the client says. "My boyfriend helped me put ointment on it when it was healing."
"Tell him he did a nice job."
"He knows."
I sense a little smugness in his tone, what is no doubt a little self-satisfaction at how he showed his gratitude.
Maya drifts over after a while to look over my shoulder at how the tattoo is progressing.
"That's gorgeous," she says, as much to the client as to me. "Why a Japanese landscape?"
"I'm studying art history," he explains, "with an emphasis on Asian art. I spent a year in Japan teaching English, that's how I got interested in it. I did poll sci as an undergrad."
"Interesting. I know you love this stuff," Maya says to me, then "Is this your first tattoo?" to the client.
"Yep."
"He's doing really well," I tell her.
"I haven't passed out yet." He turns his head so he can grin at Maya, who grins back.
words: 774
total words: 23,095
