Image via WikipediaIn the past years tattoo art has come from a cultural chapter in the growing of people in tribes to the rebellious youth in motorcycle gangs to the idealistic tramp in the bar that is begging for an excuse to say "yeah you know exactly where to blow"Tantalizing isn't it/
In any case the tattoo community has blossomed into an adaptable medium in our now colorful world. Every day some 30-something year old mother drives her skimpily dressed daughter to get matching dolphins because they wish they could live so freely. (Joke) Others go for their first piece of of glorious art that will evolve overnight like the black ooze symbiote that once overtook Peter Parker as he became the Black Spider. I can't possibly be the only one who still gets hard after the very thought can I?
Back to my point;
The art means something to everyone else. Whether its getting a tribal arm band ironically, getting your first-borns' feet print or creating a sleeve for those loved and lost, it is carried with them through out there lives. It helps us cope or keep positive, always comforting or motivating to see the outrageous reaches of our personality and mental imagery splashed together brought to you in part by steel ink and electromagnetism.
I've seen, as the tattoo community reaches near Jersey Shore annoyance with shows like New York Ink, how each story is told. It is probably the most I take away from these programs, as if someone would not tell a friend had they just hired a band of hooligans that their shop might as well be shut down before they open because someone will come up drunk or god forbid put an alpha-female and incredible gay male together to clean up shop.... What a quest for ratings, but I digress.
The point is that the best thing, if not the only, to take away from these shows are the people there. Aside from misconduct and extreme lack of professionalism on camera, there are beautiful stories being shared. These tattoos become less asinine once the camera pans out on a master piece that truly tells a story of loss, misfortune, or just begging for courage.
After an epiphany had during my trip home I realized that I was sick of the shit I had been doing in life. I remember back in high school when my skin was yearning for the steady perforation of a 30 mag needle, I had spent all my time designing and talking about opening up a shop.
I look forward ten years and have accomplished nothing of the sort. So came to me my next step. I decided that the days at my current shit hole occupation were numbered and I needed to do something better, bigger, something I actually gave a shit about.
In comes Tattoos. I am going to finally live my dream and help everyone I can to achieve closure in life or just tell their story. Who knows... I could be the next big thing to come up.
Wish me luck.
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