I felt like writing this down, as a way to archive this feeling, this unexpected experience that arose in the most surprising way . My body is not a place I feel strongly about. I feel pretty neutral towards this vessel that contains the human experience , in this time. The body is , in my eyes , both important , being the only physical possession we get to truly own, with power of life and death over it, changing its existence, in the way we understand our shared reality in the day to day realm we live in; but equally so, I find the body to be irrelevant. It is nothing but a carnal envelope , operating in sometimes mysterious ways, being a hindrance one day and a vehicle for tasting the materiality of life in enjoyable ways at other times.
I live with this dichotomy, and acknowledge the irony of my ambivalence towards it, while being , essentially, a body worker who facilitates flesh modification and skin manipulation.
This being said, this is not about my role as a tattooer that I want to write this down.
Today is about being the receiver of a tattoo. A few months ago I started to consciously , deliberately, thoughtfully start layering over the extensive collection of tattoos I already get to live with.
Limiting the current repertoire to three simple elements : triangle , lines, blackout.
The intention being to somewhat organise the disparate patchwork that composed the first / second layer(s) of ink marking I received over the past twenty years. Often looking at symbols, meanings, creating a chaotic aesthetic , aligned with my punk upbringing, and various interests.
I am in a different place now. I am older, I understand my tastes and its differentiation with appreciation.
I crave a body that reflects who I am now, without erasing the past in any way. I carry the life I got in my skin, and will not deny it. I do feel more centred though. More focused. And this new approach to skin rituals is to be a deliberate, considered , planned (for the most part) one.
I knew I needed to get started on it, took many years before jumping in and actually going for it. I wanted to be sure. To not get it done on impulse. But I had no idea what it meant symbolically, psychologically, meaning wise…I let the feeling brew, and followed through when the time felt right.
The first steps were taken on the arm that was unplanned, the one that got covered fuelled by the sheer excitement of being able to re appropriate my body, feeling like the sole agent in charge of said corpse. The first layer on this arm (which was the second sleeve I initially got) was done over a few months, based on some lose concept used as excuse to get images that I liked the look of. I enjoyed the journey, being within the wall of Into You in London on the regular, getting a glimpse of a world I was taking some of my early steps in . Learning tattooing around that time, it was all very exciting. I might have been over excited and got covered pretty quick. I often say I got most my tattoos in the span of three to five years, and although timeline and me can get confusing, I would think it to be an accurate statement.
This second layer felt like a much more calm, and intentional process. I did a few sketches ahead of time over the years, wondering what the options could be. And the final iteration I brought to Thomas, as a direction, not a fully rendered piece. He was kind enough to take it onboard and freehand the piece , making it feel like a collaborative effort, much more than any other tattoos I ever received before.
This first arm ( yet to be completely finalised) gave me instant joy. I felt more like me right away. This feeling I only got a handful of times : Tattoos resonating like they’ve always been there, and were just brought up to the surface. It was abstract and not a feeling I cared to identify much, I just bathed in its lightness and comfort.
The second arm we started yesterday (at time of writing). And I want to remember those feelings, hence why I am noting this down now. This is my right arm. I got this sleeve done initially close to twenty years ago. At a time when each tattoo was also very intentional, very loaded, very important, and mostly symbolic. I spent a lot of time considering the concept, and wanted it to reflect my ethics in a metaphoric way. There is the vegan and sober life at the centre of it all. Those are values, that I carry with me to this day. I felt a bit more ambivalent towards layering this one because of the attachment I have to what it represent, still today. I knew though that they would still be there, underneath the new tattoo. Its essence does not go away in this instance. We managed to do a good chunk of the forearm, drastically changing the course of the visual existence of this limb. and finished the day with few extra lines in the ditch on the other arm, for good measure.
And upon onboarding the train back to London something unexpected happened. Something I am yet to truly understand. This thing I identified as queer joy. The irony of getting heavy blackwork on the forearm, expressing itself as gender euphoria , tuning down a bit the masc mask that I wear most of the time in society, is not lost on me. Big bold black designs as tattoos are often perceived as extra butch, but here I am feeling extra fem. Feeling like a more balanced and authentic version of myself, wearing abstract shapes, open to interpretation symbols, rather than stamps that can be read by most. And I do not need to know the exact reasons on an intellectual level but feelings are enough for me.
Finding this was not on the cards ( consciously ) but I am here for it. I feel more like my current self with this new layer and I look forward to the journey ahead.
The body is definitely source of joy today.
