It's about being in the middle, not being at the end. You're not initiating something, nor having the last word, you're just carrying it through with the time you've got. Dan Higgs, Interview by Ed Hardy, Tattoo Revue Magazine.
When you consider how long tattooing has been part of our history (at least 5300 years according to tattooed Ötzi the Iceman) it forces you to reckon with the fact your life as a tattooer is a mere blip in the continuum. Kinda humbling. This is an ancient arcane craft that, despite its current pop culture visibility overexposure, will persist long after the tattoo TV dramas, dabbling artists, and cash-grab clone T-shirt companies vanish from our forebrains.
Taking this perspective frames your tattoos and all your involvement with tattooing in a way that creates a sense of responsibility, a feeling that this historic thread deserves a measure of respect.
I'm a strong believer that studying tattooing's past can only contribute to the tattooing you do today. The principles you learn about ingenuity, resourcefulness and tenacity essential for survival in tattooing's days gone by are just as useful now as they were then. Of course, moving forward while focused only on the rear view isn't wise.
Tattooing's technical and aesthetic evolution depends on bucking convention and breaking with tradition to some degree, and by tempering innovations with knowledge of the past and an awareness of the context you're operating in I think you stand a much greater chance of making a lasting contribution. A lot of wacky shit is being done in the name of progress (and, ahem, profit) and unfortunate and ugly mistakes could probably be avoided by paying attention to hard-won lessons from the past.
All of this isn't to say the old ways are the best ways or only ways, just ways that are worth thinking about. See enough 30+ year-old tattoos come through the shop door, how time weathers ink in the skin, and you'll be convinced the old guys and gals knew a little something with their approach to boldness, simplicity, and contrast.
As this is my first piece of writing I'd like to dedicate this ongoing accumulation of writing and images to the folks that have passed on what they know about tattooing to me. Thank you for your trust. I hope I can contribute something, however small it is, and live up to being a worthy custodian.
3 Comments
Chris, I am a huge fan of your work.
Hey, I recognize this! :) Going to contact you soon while you’re in town for a version of this or something similar!
This is from an interview I did with David Bruehl in ’08… sort of fits in:
SP: You “gained speed” as a tattooist pretty quickly; I remember watching your work progress at a geometric rate and knowing early on that you “got it.” What are your thoughts on traditional apprenticeships? Do you think that the ability to make needles with a soldering iron and jig or being able to build machines is necessary for the modern tattooist?
DB: Tattooing is in a weird spot. Most good artists out there have no interest in taking apprentices, which leaves hopefuls to take on the dangerous task of learning on their own — which really puts a lot of people in a worse position than not knowing anything, since they end up with a bunch to unlearn — or to learn from sketchy bad tattooists who are taking them on for the wrong reasons. It’s inevitable that there’s always going to be new blood becoming part of the community, so there has to be some way to sift through everyone to ensure that the people who deserve it. I don’t know that there’s an answer to that conundrum.
I think knowing every aspect of one’s craft is important. I know how to make needles. I can build a machine from raw materials (metal, magnet wire and some screws). I can make pigment. I can essentially make anything involved in my craft except a power supply. Do I do all of that? No. I no longer make my own needles. I make machines, some of which I keep, some I sell. I don’t make my own pigment, except on rare occasions. Learning all of that, though, connects me to and further refines my process. So much of tattooing is about learning what works for you, rather than knowing the one “right” way to do something. It’s easy to get lost in all that, though. No matter how hard one tries, there’s not going to be that magic machine or magic pigment that’s going to make a person a good tattooist. That’s the result of a lot of hard work and a lot of time spent at the drawing table.