For this weeks topic I would like to
share my thoughts on memorial tattoos and how they can affect the
lives of clients and artists alike. Hopefully you gain insight and
ENJOY!
In my time as a working artist I have
frequently encountered people seeking body art as part of the
grieving process. Though a majority of these encounters revolve
around the passing of a loved one, they all carry a very personal
sentiment within each story told. As an outsider looking into the
window of another persons life I find it hard at times to fully
comprehend and convey what these individuals are feeling, it's as
though I am trying to pack years of experiences and emotions into the
skin with needle points and pigments.
Out of respect and love for the family
involved I wont be listing names, however I am going to do my best to
share a special story involving the loss of a loved one and the art
that ensued.
The sky was overcast, the wind was
cold, and a face I hadn't seen in years approached me as I stood in
the shops parking lot. With each step he took my feelings of surprise
and happiness slightly diminished, the look on his face said it all;
something terrible had happened. I've never been overly gifted at
reading minds, but when you spend years around someone you generally
learn to sense their mood without the need for words to be spoken.
We started our reunion with hellos and ended with me marking the day
on my calendar when he would come in and get a memorial tattoo, this
tattoo was meant for the passing of his newly born son.
I recall sitting in my booth for the
rest of the day feeling somewhat awe struck that this had happened to
someone I grew up with, a man I remember being so full of happiness
and positivity; now faced with one of life's darker lessons: Loss.
It's no secret that we all have and will continue to lose the things
which we care for in life, but I find that when it is entirely out of
our control it tends to make a greater impact on the type of people
we are and shapes who we will become. I spent that night wondering if
my friend would make it through to the other side of this tragedy.
The sky was overcast the next day but
the wind seemed to be warmer as my mind overflowed with raw concepts
and growing ideas of the project to come. My booth quickly became a
mess as hours were spent riddling piece after piece of paper with
crude pencil marks and swift eraser burns in an attempt to give my
friend something worth wearing and hopefully shed a pinhole of light
into this dark time. The longer I spent drawing the more I couldn't
help but imagine myself in a similar position. I tried to
conceptualize the amount of pride and excitement involved in
fatherhood and how it must feel to have all of that taken away. For
the first time I had truly felt shaken by the events leading up to
another persons tattoo.
Those are MY pen marks on MY calendar,
I knew it was the scheduled day for my friends memorial piece and
although I was ready, I had never felt so unprepared. I must have
spent an hour or so before the appointment time anxiously fiddling
with the drawings I had done and wondering not only if it was good
enough but, also if he would like what I had come up with. There I
stand again in the parking lot as my childhood friend approaches me,
same look on his face as before, however something seemed to be
different. We both entered the shop and I presented my drawings to
him, the smile on his face said it all and upon his spoken approval
we got started.
The bulk of that day was spent
working, we didn't speak all that much, both of us became some what
locked into our modes as we set forth to create a memorial, rather, a
tribute to his son. It wasn't long before I was rid of my nerves and
wrapped up in the art of it all. Despite the events leading up to the
creation of this tattoo, there was an ever growing excitement in the
air, like a frenzied curiosity of what was to come.
As the final pieces were put into
place the tattoo process had reached completion and all that was left
was the unveiling. I sat tensely and watched as he stood up and
stepped out in front of the mirror. Waiting. Waiting. My experiences
with personal loss coupled with the relationship between myself and
his family created an intense feeling of make or break for me, like
this would determine the outcome of my entire professional tattoo
existence. When he finally turned toward me I received the nod of
approval and soon witnessed one of the truest expressions of
happiness through the weight of sadness. A somber tear filled smile.
Honestly, I got choked up and had to bite my cheek and stare at the
floor. We took some photos, said our goodbyes, and I grew a little
bit in the course of it all.
When I was younger I didn't know what
I wanted to get as far as tattoos were concerned until I lost a dear
friend. It wasn't even a hard decision for me after that happened, I
felt as though I had to commemorate his life somehow and wanted it to
be a grand gesture. The downfall of my memorial tattoo was that I had
no idea what all could be done artistically in the tattoo medium and
the artist I chose didn't care enough to broaden my mind on the
subject. I know now that I should have found a skilled artist to
guide me in my choice to receive such a tattoo instead of stamp
something on me without any real knowledge of the meaning behind it.
There is quite a high volume of
memorial tattoos in the world, so much so that artists, including
myself can become jaded to the personal attachments that forge them.
At times I have had to slow down and remind myself to think deeper
and put more effort into this sort of work so that it doesn't fall
flat and become a run of the mill type of tattoo. Artists and clients
alike should come together for these projects in hopes of building
something both unique and priceless.
Id like to say thank you to anyone
I've had the chance to tattoo, especially those of you who shared a
little part of your story with me; I wish you all the best of luck in
navigating this glorious minefield we call life.
