Adam McDade
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A Painful Place: An autoethnographic account of a tattooists contentions with compassion.

19/2/2020

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Though not all tattoos hurt equally; all tattoos hurt. While areas such as the forearm, upper arm, and parts of the legs are largely considered tolerable in terms of pain, other areas such as the throat, ribs, and chest, have a reputation for being particularly difficult to withstand. Despite the pain and difficulty, tattooing in these areas is still common. In addition to the pain experienced from the client in tattooing the respective area, it is often the case that the same areas can be difficult to tattoo by the tattooist on a material level, due to factors such as skin elasticity and body shape, which can affect the ease of needle insertion. A lesser discussed, but commonly experienced difficulty in tattooing painful areas from the perspective of the tattooist, are the contentions with compassion for the person who is receiving the tattoo; navigating the burden of responsibility in being professionally required to perform a service in which intense pain is an unavoidable, in order to achieve the desired outcome. 

This autoethnographic account of tattooing a large-scale tattoo on the chest covering an existing unsatisfactory tattoo elucidates on the multiplicity of non-material factors that shape and inform the role of the tattooist. The account illustrates aspects of the tattooing experience, from consultation and design process, through to tattooing procedure, using the self as a vehicle through which the experience of performing a painful tattoo can be understood on a more generalisable level. The cultivation of compassion for clients, and struggles with the necessity of pain infliction upon them are discussed, and reflections made upon the tensions this can cause for the practitioner. The interactions between the material and the non-material nature of practice are confessionally exposed, in an attempt to reveal, and thus better understand, the nuances and richness that exist in the role of a contemporary western tattooist. 

Kacper
(Names changed for confidentiality purposes)
​

Kacper had come into the studio on a day in which I wasn’t working prior to our meeting, and was suggested to book in with me for the tattoo style he wanted. He had returned on a day on which he was informed I’d be around, and asked the desk staff to speak to me to find out if I was happy to produce the tattoo he desired. As I was summoned to towards the desk to arrange a booking, I recognised the person who Kacper was with as Maček; an existing client of another tattooist working in the studio. I greeted both Maček and Kacper, and asked how I could help. Maček and Kacper are of Polish origin, and while Maček is fluent in English, Kacper could communicate sufficiently for basic interactions, but was less able to speak as fluently as Maček. Maček had introduced Kacper to the studio as a reputable place to get a tattoo, and accompanied him to assist in making the booking and translating any information that was beyond Kacpers understanding.
 
Kacper explained to me that his English is limited, and that Maček would communicate for him for the most part. Maček showed me an image of a tattoo on a phone screen of a tattoo. The tattoo was on the chest area, in black ink exclusively, and in a ‘sketchy’ style. The style shared commonalities with my own, which is why I was suggested as the tattooist. The subject matter was a pair of wings that went down onto the chest area, with the words ‘fuck alcohol’ incorporated into the design. It was explained that the text was not wanted, but the subject matter and something similar in style where desired. The explanation process was a combination of direct communication with Kacper, and occasionally Maček would interpret what I was saying, to which Kacper would respond, and Maček translate back to me. I tried at all times to communicate to both Maček and Kacper, through direction of my eye gaze and bodily positioning towards both of them.
 
Kacper explained that he would also like an existing tattoo that he has to be covered, which he pulled down the collar of his t-shirt to reveal to me. The tattoo was underneath his right collarbone, and was text that read ’15.05.1973 – 16.07.2003’. It was explained to me that this date was incorrect, and that the text should have read ‘14.05.1973 – 16.07.2003’. The significance of the date was not revealed, assumingly as it was not directly relevant to the line of inquiry Kacper was making, however Maček explained to me it was desired to have date incorporated into the piece in another way. I suggested that we could incorporate it into the piece and have the text be in a similar style to the tattoo, rather than similar to Kacpers existing style of text tattoo. Kacper expressed enthusiasm with this idea, or at least I interpreted his wide eyes and agreeable disposition as enthusiasm. I also explained that we wouldn’t be able to fully cover the exisiting tattoo due to the negative space that would be in his requested design, but we could obscure it from being obvious. Kacper said that he understood, and his body language / response suggested to me that he had anticipated that would be the case anyway.


Picture
Image reference for Kacpers tattoo, by tattooist, Inez Janiak. Image source: pinterest.com
I advised that the tattoo would take multiple sittings, and warned that the area of the body is particularly painful. I made a particular effort to clarify Kacper understood this by repeating it a few times, as he was keen on sitting for a full day for the first session at the set discounted rate of £250, which is still required if the client chooses the end the session early. This is a system set by many studios, as the tattooist Is often unable to find a client should the client they are booked to tattoo for a full day end the session early, and thus potential earnings are lost. I explained that we would tattoo as much as possible in the day, and book another session to finish it off based on how many hours are forecast. I suggested a total capped cost of the tattoo at £360; this was a maximum price, and stated to allow sufficient time to complete the tattoo to a high quality, with the understanding that it would likely take less time than the price suggests and thus be priced accordingly. Kacper and Maček appeared to both be happy with all that was discussed. After finding a suitable date to complete the tattoo, I requested a £100 non-refundable deposit to secure the time slot. This is common practice within many studios, and prevents any loss from having spent time on designs for clients that don’t end up being tattooed due to the client absence.
 
After signing a form stating that he agreed with all the terms outlined, and Maček translating the terms when necessary, Kacper handed me a handful of £20 notes. I can’t recall the specific value, but I noticed that there was far more than £100 which is all I needed to take from him, so I politely returned the excess, attempting to light-heartedly explain that he didn’t need to leave as great a deposit as he handed over in a such a way that would not embarrass him. I noticed that Kacper had no other visible tattoos other than what he had shown me, and considered that he was likely nervous on 2 accounts; the first being organising an experience that was both unfamiliar, painful, and potentially emotionally evocative, and the second being that he is in an environment in which he could not fluently communicate in a culture different to what he was used to. I felt a strong desire to ensure that he was comfortable and understood everything I had said, which I had to contend with while also not patronising him by over explaining myself.
 
After securing the appointment and writing the details on an appointment card, I asked that Kacper email me the reference image, and the text that he would like added to the design, for me to prepare in advance of his appointment. A few days later, I received an email with all of the relevant information, from which I prepared the design. As the design was of 2 wings, I sourced various images of birds such as eagles with fully spread wings, and put them onto photoshop together as a reference sheet, alongside the tattoo that was shown to me as a source image. This sheet was then printed at a4 size, and used as a series of reference images to create a pencil sketch of a wing in a style that was similar enough to Kacpers desired style, but distinct enough to not be plagiarised.
 
It was considered that only one wing would be necessary to draw as the design could be replicated and flipped, with deviations being made from the stencil in the actual tattooing procedure. This pencil sketch was then traced with a calligraphy-nibbed fine liner and tracing paper, before being scanned and placed into Adobe Photoshop, where it was flipped and edited slightly to make it not 100% symmetrical and appear more natural. The finished wing design composite was then printed, and text drawn in a similar style to the image added in pencil onto the print out. This was then traced in a similar fashion to the above, before an alternative text option was also created. This was to give Kacper more options in his design choice. Both texts where scanned into the computer and placed into the file containing the wing design, and 3 variations of placement where created.
 
On the appointment day, Kacper arrived alone, without Maček, who he told me was working that day. After he had completed a consent form, I showed Kacper the design options, from which he selected the version I personally favoured also. I printed the design at various sizes, and asked Kacper to follow me up the stairs where we could asses what size was the best fit for his chest. In most circumstances, the sizing process is completed while the client is in the waiting area, but as in this case it would require Kacper to remove his t-shirt, I thought it more respectful to allow him more privacy. As we walked up the stairs, Kacper reminded me in an almost apologetic tone that his English was limited. I assured him that it was not a problem, and that as long as he could inform me if he needed to stop at any point and let me know he was OK, then there were no issues. While shaving Kacpers chest and applying the stencil, I found that Kacpers English was far better than he seemed to believe, as we were able to engage in general small-talk. Prior to his appointment, I was anxious that I would struggle with applying the stencil and having it cover up Kacpers existing tattoo effectively, but I didn’t want to communicate this to him in fear of appearing inept.
 
Kacper explained to me that he was from Gdansk in Poland, and had been in the UK for 6 months working in IT. While chatting with clients, I often hope to connect in some way and share something about myself as a means of making them more comfortable and the space more open, and so I told Kacper that I had a good friend who was from Gdansk, who had taught me some basic phrases. Kacper appeared to be very surprised and delighted by this, which was expressed through his laughter, as I (no doubt badly) spoke the 3 phrases that I could recall. The laughter was loud in such a way that suggested more of the release of tension in an uncomfortable sitaution, more so than the expression of humour. Kacper translated each one into English after I said it, and appeared more comfortable immediately after such an exchange. I couldn’t explain in logical terms the reason why, but I couldn’t help but immediately like and care for Kacper, in a similar fashion to how I might for a younger brother, despite the age gap not being particularly wide. Perhaps the delta between cultural contexts made me perceive Kacper as more vulnerable than he actually was, and I felt compelled to try to connect with him.
 
As the stencil dried, I asked Kacper if he had eaten anything in preparation for the appointment as advised. He told he had eaten four sandwiches, holding up four of his fingers while doing so, and laughing in the acknowledgement that this was a healthy sized breakfast in preparation for the tattooing. He then pointed to the printed design, and explained that the date on the design was the date of his mother’s birth and death. I told him that I was sorry to hear of his loss, and he convincingly assured me that it was OK; it was convincing in that his eyes did not seem to indicate any shift in emotion in the topic being introduced from when we were discussing sandwiches, however it was apparent it was still significant to him, or no date would be necessary to add to the design he was getting tattooed. The recognition of the memorial nature of the tattoo, alongside the compassion and empathy I already felt towards Kacper as a Polish person living in a city that has historically not been very tolerant of those from outside of even its region, never mind country, made me feel additionally responsible to ensuring a positive experience for Kacper.
 
After setting up the basic materials and finding a suitable position for the tattooing procedure, in which I could ensure a tight stretch of the skin, and Kacper could stay still for a prolonged period of time, the tattooing procedure began. This started with the right-hand side of the tattoo which was where the existing tattoo was already, with the decision for doing so being based on the importance of getting the cover-up side correct more so than the non-tattooed side, and the recognition that the stencil will inevitably fade as the procedure continues making the accuracy to printed design increasingly more difficult. After creating the first line of the tattoo, I could sense Kacpers discomfort in the tension of his body and rigidity of posture. I offered him some kitchen roll to have in his hands, to reduce the sweat that was naturally coming from his palms. I asked if he was OK, and he insisted he was fine. At this point, he was not moving frequently as can often be the case when a client is in pain, and he sat very well. Kacper asked me when he could next go to the gym, and I asked if he trained with weights, or cardio. With a straight face and matter-of-fact tone, he expressed ‘cardio, because I am fat’, which I didn’t feel was particularly true, and felt a sadness in that Kacper saw himself this way and stated so in such a objective manner.  His expression of disdain towards his body image reminded me of myself and my life-long issues with bodyweight and eating disorders, and of younger brother who has similar issues. I felt I wanted to make peace with his insecurity in the way I am unable to do for myself, but I recognised that this was not appropriate. I told him that cardio was fine, but to avoid weights as stretching the areas close to the tattoo may irritate it and interrupt the healing.
 
Tattooing Kacper was my first time tattooing a chest, and I found that I had to adjust from seated to standing at various points to create a sufficient stretch of the skin. In doing so, I found myself in unnatural positions that made me feel very physically uncomfortable, but where necessary to ensure the line quality that was required. I found this particularly stressful, as in addition to the physical pain I was causing Kacper, I was also experiencing my own pain, and found that the stencil was fading due to the natural sweating of Kacper through the painful procedure. At this point, I committed to tattooing the most crucial lines to ensure the design was rendered in its intended shape, valuing the more gestural shading lines lesser in specificity of replication from the printed design than the core shape of the wing. I also ensured that I tattooed the date of death before the stencil faded, given the significance of this part of the tattoo.
 
After completing the first part of the basic shape of the right-hand side of the tattoo, I asked Kacper to stand off the massage bed, and lay down on the opposite side of it so I could tattoo the left side of his body. The same procedure was followed, with slightly more confidence from having undertaken tattooing the right-hand side, but also exhaustion in having done so. Kacpers breathing was becoming increasingly unsteady as the tattooing procedure commenced, and when I occasionally looked at his face I noticed that he was squinting. I asked at regular intervals if he was OK, which he assured me was, and I insisted that I get him a drink of water as I noticed a white deposit around the corners of his mouth and I worried that he may be dehydrated. After completing the second outlining stage of the tattoo, I suggested that we take a lunch break as it was around 1pm, and the session was set to end at 5pm. After cleaning it with green soap (a combination of witch hazel and aloe vera antiseptic soap) I wrapped Kacpers tattoo in cling film, and asked him if 25 minutes would be a sufficient lunch break. I told him he could have longer if he liked, however he stated that 25 minutes was fine as he had prepared more sandwiches.
 
As there is no food allowed in the tattooing areas, I asked Kacper if he could eat in the waiting area. The morning of the appointment I had had an argument with my partner, which by the time I arrived at work was resolved, however in my distraction I had forgot my lunch. I left the studio to get some lunch, and on my return noticed a few of my colleagues outside the studio smoking cigarettes and chatting, while Kacper was stood alone with his vaporiser pen, looking down at his phone. As a non-smoker, I felt that I wanted to ask my colleagues to attempt to engage with him, but I considered how it was not appropriate or reasonable, or possibly necessary to do so, and how if I were in the equivalent scenario I would likely prefer to be alone.  Despite this consideration, i couldn’t help but feel that I wanted Kacper to not be isolated. I ate my lunch and had a 1-cup French press of coffee brewing while I did so. Kacper returned inside of the studio, and took a seat on the couch a little further away while typing on his phone. After finishing my salad, I pressed the coffee, and with the French press in hand to indicate what I was asking visually, I approached Kacper and asked if he would like to have half of my coffee. He took a moment, before saying that he would, and I handed him half a paper cup of black coffee, pointing out where the milk and sugar was kept should he need any. After cleaning the press, I invited Kacper back upstairs to commence with the tattooing.  
 
The remainder of the tattoo involved relining areas, saturating the lines to create a varied line weight, and adding a heavy amount of detail to suggest feathers. I asked Kacper if he could position himself the way in which we started, suggesting that we would start with the right-hand side first. I removed the cling film from Kacper that was wrapped around his shoulders and chest, wiped down the bodily fluids that had naturally occurred in the time that the tattoo was wrapped, and began the tattooing process. As I made the first mark, I noticed a much more severe and obvious sense of discomfort from Kacper.  I tried to continue with conversation, and asked Kacper what sandwich filling he had, to which he told me was a combination of "cheese, ham, and ketchup...but Polish ketchup!" - he expressed this with pride and enthuisiasm, pointing as he did so to indicate the distinction from British ketchup. Despite the enthusiasm, I could see he was in a lot of pain, and choose not to pursue conversation in fear of being an additional irritant to the needles I was inserting into his already traumatised skin. As i tattooed, i noticed that the pigment was not appearing to go into his skin at a dark enough saturation. I questioned multiple parts of my practice. I stopped to refill my ink pots with black ink despite them being over half-way filled, in the assumption that the frequent moving from the body to the ink caps of the needle may have resulted in watering the ink in the pot down with the blood that was on the needle. This was not sufficient, and the lines where still not going into the skin as I required them to.
 
I adjusted my needle cartridge, thinking that perhaps there where faults with the cartridge I was using, but this did not appear to be the case. I adjusted the voltage that the machine was running at, sweating and feeling flustered while doing so, worrying that the voltage could be high enough to be risky and contemplating my options. When this didn’t seem successful, I switched to a more familiar machine, thinking that perhaps the ‘drive bar’ that makes the needle go in and out was not machine was not sufficiently engaging. While this helped to some extent, I still found that every line I produced was causing a lot of bleeding and evidently a lot of pain to Kacper, but not delivering the results. I attempted adjusting how I had Kacper positioned, and in what was no doubt apparent, adapted my own standing/seating position in numerous ways in a very flustered fashion. I did not vocalise any of my concerns, however my body temperature, redness of tone, and constant adjustment no doubt communicated my distress more lucidly than any vocal expression would be able to.
 
After much frustration, the tattooing began to go the way that I needed it to more so than it had previously. As I glanced up at Kacper, I noticed how much pain he was in, which was evident with all of the movement he was making with his hands, feet, and legs. I continued to ask him if he was OK or if he wanted to stop for a break, but felt that if I asked him a further time it could irritate him. I considered how in addition to tattooing him successfully, I also had to attempt to not make him aware of how much I was struggling with the procedure, both on a material and a non-material level. I knew I would have failed in disguising my distress, but also recognised that how I felt will have been almost irrelevant to Kacper, who was undergoing far more of a difficult time than I was on a physical level at minimum. This requirement to maintain professionalism in difficult situations contrasted the part of my role I had considered in the past of being vulnerable and open with clients to allow them to feel comfortable, and I recognised I was required to exercise a degree of constraint that I had failed to demonstrate with Kacper.
 
The procedure commenced, with Kacpers movements resulting from the intensity of the pain making it increasingly difficult to execute materially. I also felt incredibly distressed at having to be repeatedly engraving a line in a surface that was evidently causing agony, which was clearly communicated somatically. Each baby wipe that I used to wipe away the excess ink appeared to be a lot more red than it was black, making the process feel like a torture procedure more than the positive experience that I aspire for each of my clients to have.
 
I felt conflicted knowing I had to continue as part of my occupation; knowing that I was causing such intense pain for a client who I already felt empathetically connected to through his vulnerability; knowing that I had to deliver a certain quality of output that I didn’t feel I could achieve the way I had thought I was capable of previously; knowing that Kacper would have to pay me a sizeable sum of money in exchange for what he had to suffer, with what I thought would be results he would be unhappy with; knowing that the studio expected to make their half of the money from the tattoo total cost; Knowing that the studios reputation was carried in part through me; knowing that the tattoo studio was recommended to Kacper by a trust worthy friend for its internationally award-winning reputation, to be what I felt was let down, while in a foreign country in which connections where limited; knowing that I had made a sizeable and permanent mark on Kacper as a young man of 21 years of age, when taste is subject to change, and knowing that the tattoo I had produced was covering a one he was already unhappy with – a tattoo that was in honour of his deceased mother with wings representing her angelic presence in Kacpers life. While finishing the details of the right-hand wing, I considered if I was capable to being a tattooist, if experiences such as this are representative of the future of my career.
 
The first wing was complete by around 4pm, when I asked Kacper if he wanted to continue and make a start of the right-hand side, or if he would prefer to stop for the day for a reduced price, and continue another day to finish it off. It is discouraged to offer a reduce price in the studio as they also loose out, however I was willing to ‘take the hit’ myself financially to stop having to continue causing the trauma I had been commissioned to any longer while in the state of mind that I was.  I knew that I absolutely wanted to stop at this point, but Kacper was keen to continue after having a toilet break. I wrapped Kacper up in cling film as he went to the toilet, and while he was gone I tried to hold myself together through drinking cold water, stretching, and taking deep breaths. When Kacper returned, he used a translation feature on his phone to ask questions regarding continuing on the tattoo, suggesting that he might prefer to stop at this point. I explained that we would have to wait 4 weeks for the tattoo to heal, but could finish it one go then. Kacper opted to take this option.
 
After knowing the tattooing was finished, I told Kacper we could properly clean down his tattoo and he could see it in the mirror. I used green soap to get rid of any excess ink and blood, and walked Kacper to the mirror. He expressed that he liked how the tattoo looked, however I sensed that he was perhaps being polite. I wasn’t 100% certain if this was reflective of my own state of mind and thus not true, or if Kacper perhaps just didn’t seem as enthusiastic because he was exhausted from all the pain that had been caused. I photographed the tattoo , and while wrapping him up with cling film as a protective layer from outside debris, I asked again if he was happy with the tattoo, and he said yes in a way that was more convincingly enthusiastic. I was relieved by this, but also felt selfish for wanting him to make me feel better after having caused so much pain myself to him. I told Kacper to take as long as he needed to get his possessions together, and that I would meet him at the studio desk downstairs when he was ready, where I would prepare an aftercare information sheet.
 
As Kacper approached the front desk, we realised that he could not book his next appointment at this point as he didn’t have his work rota. I advised Kacper to simply email me when he knew of his availability, and that we would find an appointment that suited him from there. I charged Kacper £200 rather £250, and was not questioned by the studio for doing so. I thanked Kacper for getting tattooed by me, desperately wanting to express my emotional resonance with him, while knowing that I was unable to do so. Kacper thanked me, said goodbye, and left the studio to purchase an aftercare product prior to going home.
 
Later that evening when approaching the front door of my one bedroom flat where I live with my partner, I felt an intense build up of emotion that increased in dominance in syncopation with the turn of my key in the door. My partner said hello from the kitchen, to which I replied while entering the bedroom to hang up my jacket. She came into the room, looked at me, and asked if I was ok. As I went to explain I burst into tears, explaining the experience to her. She assured me that the tattoo looked good, and was supportive and empathetic to the experience. After some discussion, she suggested that I email Kacper and make sure that he thoroughly understood the aftercare instruction with the language barrier being in place, and also checking that he is happy with everything – which I did. I didn’t hear back from Kacper until the following day, however he assured me understood everything and was keen to come in to the studio to get the piece finished soon. 
Picture
Kacpers tattoo at the point of completion of the first session.
Reflections and Considerations from Practice

When telling my colleagues of the experience the following day, they expressed that ‘days like that will happen’, and told me that I can make an excuse ask them to come to the room in which I work to see if they are able to help in any way. They had recognised the desire to not reveal any insecurity to a client to maintain a demeanour of professionalism and not worry the client, and acknowledged that this is part of the experience of the role of a tattooist. They also consoled me by explaining that the chest is an area that many have struggled with until they have over 7 years of experience, and that often in situations like the one I described, the tattoo is better than the practitioner thinks it is.
 
I showed my colleagues a photo of Kacpers tattoo at the point we got to, and they told me they thought it worked well and was a good piece. I trusted their sincerity, and was appreciative to be part of such a community of practice. We then went on to discuss how there is a void in the acknowledgement of these aspects of tattooing as a professional creative industry in favour of the more glamorous representations of the medium. This conversation echoed the importance of recording such experiences, representing the insecurities, concerns, and uncertainties in a reflective and confessional manner, in order to gain an authentic understanding of what the past 3 years have taught me is a layered and complex practice. 

​
Adam McDade 

Tattooist at Triplesix Studios
AHRC NPIF Funded PhD Research Student at The University of Sunderland

​

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Presence as a Person, Not just a Practitioner: an autoethnographic account of performing a 'walk-in' tattoo

12/2/2020

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Tattooing is a medium that is adopted for various purposes, depending on client intention. The mainstream popularity of tattooing results in a diverse clientele. From the practitioner perspective, the nature of practice changes based on what the client requests. In many studios, 'walk-in' tattoos take place on a daily basis; tattoos without a formal appointment, generally small in size, and often priced at the studio minimum-charge. Motivations for walk-in tattoos often contain a degree of sentiment, with common motifs being small lines of text, names, symbols, and paw prints. 

While considered relatively simple as a visual, tattoos that are imbued with meaning and often sought by those less familiar with the tattoo studio environment can require a set of skills or attributes beyond just tattooing alone. The materials of tattooing beyond the machinery include the sentient surface, in the form of the skin of another human being. The tattooist must work with all materials of tattooing to effectively perform their role.

This autoethnographic account of tattooing a small walk-in tattoo elucidates on how as a practitioner, the personality of the individual performing the tattoo is required to be present to ensure a professional quality of practice. The account then goes on to outline how the shared space that is created between client and tattooist through the social and durational nature of tattooing can impact upon the practitioner. The account illustrates how the occupational role of the tattooist expands beyond materiality in isolation, and assists in enriching otherwise limited understanding of tattooing from the perspective of the tattooist.

Alice
(Names changed for confidentiality purposes)

​Alice came into the studio with who I assumed to be her mother, but as I later found out through the conversation that occurred during the tattooing process, was actually her step-mother. My introduction to Alice as a client was based on my availability to tattoo at the moment in which she happened to enter the studio, versus that of my colleagues, who were all tattooing or about to be tattooing at that point. As I sat on the computer, scanning in a design I had prepared for a future upcoming appointment, a colleague who happened to be at the desk area and dealing with Alice’s request shouted to me, “Adam, do you want to make some money?”. I knew that that meant performing a walk-in tattoo (tattooing without a formal appointment). Despite being an important part of the role of the early-career tattooist, I often dislike doing walk-in tattoos for reasons I will now outline.
 
Walk-in tattoos tend to require a lot of time to set-up the equipment and create a design that suits the client intention, comparative to how long the tattoo takes to complete. They also can be difficult to place on the body in a way that appears visually correct based on the variable ways in which the tattooed area can be seen, and can thus take multiple attempts to get right (wrists are a good example of this, as a design may appear central when relaxed, but aligned more to the left or right when the arm is bent). Tattoos of this nature tend also to be more spontaneous in how they have been approached by the clients, who often say things such as, “I knew if I didn’t get it now then I’d probably never get it”. This means that as a tattooist, I have to contend with the knowledge that the client to whom I am making a permanent mark upon may not desire the tattoo in the near future in the same way as they do the day it is created, in contrast to those who have considered a piece for a prolonged period of time. This is not always the case however, and sometimes clients simply lead busy lives working irregular shift patterns, and as such cannot commit to a formal appointment.
 
As walk-in tattoos are generally relatively small (typically taking under 20 minutes of actual tattooing), every aspect of the piece is explicitly visible, including any lines or colour-packing that is less successful than other areas. With larger tattoos where there is more coverage, factors such as this are less visually apparent due to other details of the overall composition. This means that there is a greater requirement for skilled craftspersonship, which as a junior practitioner, is less honed than that of my senior colleagues. Coupled with the acknowledgment that many walk-in tattoos (from my experience of both tattooing and working on the studio desk) are sentimental in nature to a varying extent, the level of responsibility to produce a high-quality output feels greater, making tattooing of this nature as a junior tattooist particularly anxiety inducing.
 
On an objective economic level; walk-in tattoos will generally be charged at £40 (the studio minimum charge), from which I will earn £20. Should the tattoo require a free touch-up due to any pigment being lost in the healing process (which can occur for numerous reasons), then the full process of setting up, tattooing, and cleaning down the work station must be repeated, with no economic gain. In some cases, walk-in tattoos can lead to returning clients for larger pieces that are more suited to the tattooists preferred style of working, leading to greater economic gain over a prolonged period of time. Often, however, walk-in tattoos are sought by those who generally choose to have only a few smaller pieces, and if they return, may request tattoos that are similar in size, placement, and the difficulties that can accompany this that have been outlined.
 
Examples of walk-in tattoos are shown below. As evident in images 2 and 3, in some cases clients request tattoos that would be considered upside-down by conventional standards, as they report to favour having the designs 'facing them' rather than being presented to an outsider. 
​Despite the resistance that I find myself always experiencing when asked to perform walk-in tattoos, I also find myself frequently enjoying social aspects of the process, and being able to offer a service to somebody that may provide some form of value to them. It would also be considered bad practice for me to refuse to tattoo based on my resistance from the perspective of the studio, who must adhere to business demands and not turn away custom for reasons that might be deemed unnecessary. For this reason, it is always my intention to not reveal my insecurities about my ability or my desire to avoid doing such tattoos to both my clients and my colleagues/superiors. Upon being summoned, I approached the desk where Alice and her stepmother where stood, said hello, and asked what tattoo design was being sought.
 
Alice adopted a demeanour that suggested fragility and resilience simultaneously. Writing this with retrospective understanding of Alice’s biographical narrative may make such a statement appear insincere, or as an additional attribute falsely remembered given some of her later learned contextual background – but this is not the case. I distinctly remember detecting a sense of hardship in the moments of our first interaction; a sense I only picked up on through having encountered people close to me who have lived through difficult or traumatic experiences in the past, and been able to continue to survive in the World without being overcome with fear. Alice had a child-like wisdom to her presence; child-like in the sense of engagement and presence with the moment, not considering the before or after, and wise in the acknowledgement that nothing was forever, and thus recognising that enjoyment is a necessary condition of living a rich life. These assertions may be my personal projections and not representative of Alice’s own sense of self, however they are necessary to include to elucidate on the variable factors that contribute to the experience of the practitioner, and how that affects the nature of practice.
 
She looked like she was in her early 20’s at first glance, but after talking for slightly longer it seemed that she may have been closer to her later 20’s. Alice told me in a soft midlands accent that she would like to have an infinity symbol with a heart and paw print incorporated into it, with the name of her deceased dog underneath, tattooed on her forearm. As she described what she wanted, her step mother showed me her own wrist, which was a similar design to that which Alice had described, and while showing me her tattoo said, “just something like this”. Alice’s step-mother adopted a maternal and protective demeanour, but in such a way that she respected Alice’s independence to make her own choices, and merely wanted to support her when necessary. This was evidenced in the way in which they both interacted with each other, in a manner that reminded me of siblings who have a significant age gap, more so than mother and daughter. A design such as what Alice had requested is not something I would produce for artistic gratification, but is often expected to be requested with walk-in tattoos, as such subjects are commonly reoccurring.
Picture
Alice's step-mothers tattoo, from which the design I was to create was to reference.
​I felt as though my interaction was with Alice and her step-mother as a pair, rather than Alice as an individual based on our design consultation, and so I told both that the tattoo wouldn’t be a problem to produce. I asked if she had any particular requests for the style of font, and she expressed that she didn’t. I photographed the tattoo of Alice’s step-mothers arm as a visual reference from which to base the design upon, and informed them both that I would need around 40 minutes to set up a work station and produce a design. I suggested they could go and have a coffee and return afterwards, as well as stating that they were welcome to wait in the reception area if they would prefer to. Opting to return to the studio 40 minutes later, Alice and her step-mother left for a coffee while I created the design.
 
I had recognised the design on Alice’s step mothers’ arm from seeing it on various other clients. This is often the case with smaller tattoos that can circulate on platforms such as ‘pinterest’ with titles that relate to the subject (e.g. ‘mother and daughter tattoo’ or ‘infinity symbol tattoo’ etc). As the tattoo for Alice was motivated in part by it matching her step-mothers, I opted to look for the source image from which her step-mothers tattoo was produced using a ‘google images’ search. Numerous versions of the same design where displayed, as both graphic symbols and tattoos. I found a version of the design that most closely resembled the source image I was basing the design upon, and dragged the image into Adobe Photoshop.
 
In an attempt to avoid directly copying the design in its entirety, I adjusted the thickness of part of the forms based on my own aesthetic sensibilities, by selecting the outlines of the shapes, contracting the selection by around 7 or 8 pixels, feathering the edges, and deleting the appropriate selection. I then added a text box underneath the image, and found 3 different fonts that I felt confident tattooing, all of which were relatively simple. From my experience creating tattoos of a similar nature, clients tend to opt for cursive or italic fonts, and I went to select a font from the dropdown selection, I noticed that those at the top where the styles that had been most frequently used.
 
On an a4 sheet, I created 3 versions of the design with the different writing styles. These where copied and pasted, and adjusted slightly in size to make them larger, before the process was repeated, and the sheet printed to show to Alice on her return into the studio. The pieces where composed in rows, and each row was cut out, allowing Alice to be able to select first a size she would like to have the tattoo produced at, and then which versions of the design she would like to opt for. After preparing the design, I set up the tattooing booth, brought an additional stool for Alice’s step-mother to sit on during the procedure, and came back to the front desk awaiting Alice.
 
Alice and her step-mother arrived with various shopping bags, and a bottle of Lucozade, assumingly in the knowledge that blood sugar can be lowered during the tattooing process and it is necessary to restore it. After greeting both of them, I approached the seating area and showed them the design, which they seemed very happy with. Opting for the italic font and smallest version of the design, I placed the paper cut out against the intended area of skin to be tattooed to test its suitability. Alice was very easy-going with this process, and seemed content with each step. I asked if she was sure on everything, in case she was uncomfortable to state that she would like any alterations in the sometimes-intimidating setting of a tattoo studio. I attempted to make it apparent in my tone of communication that I was happy to make any alterations if necessary, which I absolutely was, but she told me that everything was perfect, and that she really liked the font. Her step-mother echoed these sentiments.
 
After making the stencil, I invited Alice and her step-mother to my tattooing booth, which is located upstairs and is independent from the other tattooing areas. I have deliberately attempted to create a space that is far removed from the traditional tattoo shop in many ways, in that the music selection is often ambient or jazz themed, and the designs and images on the walls are eclectic in source and not centred around the typical motifs of skulls, roses, demons etc. This is in order to both satisfy my personal aesthetic sensibilities, and assist in making the client feel more relaxed in a potentially new environment. As we entered the room, I invited both Alice and her step-mother to hang up their jackets, place their bags wherever they would like to, and to take a seat.
 
As I prepared and placed the stencil on Alice’s arm, I began the ‘small-talk’ process that is a necessary part of the durational tattooing procedure, and often ends up being the gateway for real conversation to enter. I asked Alice if she had other tattoos. She showed me her existing pieces, which where themed around her love for music and her pets, and where a similar size to the small tattoo she was getting today. As I applied pressure to the stencil, I noticed that Alice’s arm where relatively thin and seemed fragile. The necessity of touch in various aspects of the tattooist role is inherently intimate, and I felt that I wanted to be mindful of Alice’s comfort level on a physical and psychological basis. As the stencil dried, I invited Alice to take a seat on the tattooing bed and get comfortable while the stencil dried for 10 minutes, while I would go and get a number of needle cartridges to complete the piece. I offered both Alice and her step-mam a drink of water, to which they were thankful, but declined, before setting up the remainder of the equipment.
 
I returned, and asked Alice to lay face down on the tattoo bed with her arm out on a cling-film wrapped arm rest. I asked Alice if she was comfortable or wanted to adjust any aspect of how she was seated, but she seemed comfortable how she was. I informed Alice that I was about to begin the process of tattooing, and that if at any point she would like to stop for any reason, to just let me know. After positioning the printed design next to Alice’s arm at the same orientation of the tattoo, I began the tattooing procedure, asking how it felt after creating the first line. She expressed that it felt fine, which I didn’t doubt through what her physiology communicated to me, as her body seemed relaxed, and her breathing steady. As I continued tattooing, I asked Alice if she was in employment or in education or anything of a similar nature. It was at this point this she told me that she was in remission from a brain tumour and had had an operation 4 years ago in Sweden, from which she was still recovering.
 
Not wanting to pry too much into this topic, I navigated around it as respectfully as possible, trying to decipher how comfortable a topic of conversation that it was for Alice and her step-mother. In a nonchalant manner, they both went on to explain how Alice, her siblings, parents, and step-parents had travelled to Sweden for 6 weeks to have the operation. I didn’t get the impression that the topic was uncomfortable in any way to discuss, and felt more of a sense of triumph than sadness, which I found admirable. They went on to tell me how expensive the cost of living was in Sweden, and how they didn’t care too much for the food there. They then turned the conversation on to me, and asked what questions such as, ‘what is the strangest tattoo you’ve ever done’, to which my answer was likely unsatisfactory due to my relative lack of experience to other tattooists who have anecdotes of tattooing obscure subject matter, or intimate body parts.
 
As the tattooing progressed, the conversation moved back and forth through different topics, and Alice’s step-mother expressed how her tattoos are imbued with meaning. Alice stated that getting this tattoo had aroused her appetite for getting further pieces. I asked what subject matter she would like, and she stated she hadn’t thought of anything at that point, but likes the idea of tattoos that have a humorous element. Humour appeared to be a big part of how Alice and her family have navigated through what I can assume would have been a troublesome and traumatic period of time, and on numerous occasions Alice’s step-mother would explain various ‘in-jokes’ that they had together to me. Alice suggested that an eye-ball would be a good subject matter for a tattoo, to which her step-mother laughed and agreed enthusiastically.
 
When I asked why, it transpired that at some point in Alice’s treatment, damage was caused to her right-eye. Alice was lying face down as the tattooing commenced, however as this was explained to me, I recalled how she wore her fringe over her right eye, making it difficult to notice. Alice’s step-mother explained how part of their ‘banter’ involved mocking each other on aspects of themselves, and she stated that occasionally they would send text messages of eye-themed ‘emojis’ as part of their rapport. It seemed apparent that this mockery came from a place of love and acceptance, and was part of the healing process of dealing with an otherwise difficult permanent change in aesthetic appearance and general health. I considered how Alice’s causal and easy-going nature to the minute details of the tattoo that I was producing for her was likely present as comparative to her eye, the tattoo particulars where almost superfluous.
 
As I was tattooing the final details of Alice’s tattoo, I couldn’t help but feel an emotional resonance with her spirit and a sympathy for her; sympathy that was not necessary given her gracious approach to life. I recognised how my sympathy was not exclusively to her and her triumphant story of recovery from a life-changing ordeal through positivity, a loving community, and humour, but to an almost archetypical personality type that I recognised. Her gentle, passive, and kind demeanour coupled with her midlands accent reminded me of a figure in my life who shared many common experiences of dealing with difficulties with resilience and determination. Though the biographical specifics between Alice and my connection differed, the nature of narrative shared similarities. This connection between Alice and the figure to who she represented to me was only made upon later reflection, but felt in the moment of the experience as a gathering of emotion that was felt in my body, and expressed through the sincere presence of compassion and wish of wellbeing for Alice and her family. This feeling stuck with me.
 
Upon completion of the tattoo, I invited Alice to take a look at it in the mirror. Before doing so, she showed her step-mother who said she thought it was ‘lovely’, and took a photo to send to her other family members. I realised that despite the tattoo evidently being a homage to a pet, at no point during our conversation did the specifics of the tattoo meaning come up. Alice told me that she liked the tattoo, and after photographing it for my own records, I wrapped the piece in cling film. While doing so, I asked Alice and her step-mother what their plans where for the remainder of the day. Alice informed me that she had her first kick-boxing lesson later that evening, which she said she was learning as a means of self-defence and to get build up some strength. I considered how this exemplified the impression of her resilience of character that I had previously noted. I told Alice and her step-mother to take their time getting their belongings together, and that I would meet them at the front desk when they were ready and go over the aftercare procedure.
 
While waiting at the front desk, I annotated an aftercare slip with the key details of how to look after a tattoo, in preparation to explain vocally. As I explained the procedure to Alice, I noticed again how she had her fringe covering her eye, and felt emotionally stirred in the recognition that despite the abundance of strength and ability to deal with the problems she had been dealt, Alice must have felt a sense of self-consciousness about her appearance to try and obstruct her eye from her vision of others. This reminded me that my short experience with Alice or many other clients can only ever be telling of a limited amount the multiplicity of realities that exist in each individuals conscious experience of existence. 
Picture
Alice's finished tattoo.
Reflections and Considerations from Practice

Later that evening, I told my partner about my experience in tattooing Alice, and I found myself getting emotional while doing so. Even in recording the experience in writing, I find the presence of emotion that cannot be categorised in the singular. It is more the amalgamation of compassion for others in recognition of the fragility and impermanence of existence, sadness surrounding the insecurities ever present in others and in myself that are culturally and sociologically ingrained, and admiration for the resilience of the human spirit to prevail. The presence of these emotions may be uniquely my own, based on my individual nature and sense of being in the World, but the experience of being personally affected by the presence of a client while tattooing is not just unique to me.
 
Tattooing is a medium through which many people express what they deem significant. Combined with the durational and thus conversational nature of conduct, many clients open up about their lives and share aspects of themselves with the tattooist. The way in which that affects the tattooist can vary based on how their own personal baggage, with examples such as my account of tattooing Alice illustrating how factors such as client demeanour and a small amount of contextual background information can initiate an emotional response. In a more direct example, I have been in the studio when some of friends/colleagues have produced memorial tattoos, and have been in tears after the client leaves the studio. This autoethnographic is an attempt to illustrate how tattoos are produced on humans, by humans, and as such require the presence of a person, not just a practitioner. In counselling, the role of a supervisor is to assist the counsellor in dealing with the various issues that are experienced as a role of working with individuals. Perhaps a similar system would be valuable for the occupational health of the tattooist.  


Adam McDade 

Tattooist at Triplesix Studios
AHRC NPIF Funded PhD Research Student at The University of Sunderland

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Visible and Invisible mark-making on the conscious canvas: Autoethnographic reflections on tattooing practice.

30/10/2019

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Client relationship is an integral part of tattooing practice, and has to be established in order to create a client-base. Though the way these manifest may be multitude, one of the key factors is the establishment of a relationship between tattooist and tattooee, that results in the client return. This autoethnographic text is an account of tattooing a returning client on 3 separate occasions, and discusses the formation of a client base, working with a medium on a conscious canvas, and the realisations regarding personal limitations that are brought about through the tattooing process. 

John
(Names changed for confidentiality purposes)

Tattoo 1

John initially came into the studio seeking a tattoo of a symbol from a game that he plays as part of the larger online gaming community. The symbol was circular in shape, with a figure of a coloured fist in the centre and a blue colour in-between the fist and the circle. Carrying a nervous disposition and some difficulty with speech due to a stammer, I tried to adopt a lightness of tone and to have a consultation away from the studio desk area (where they are typically conducted) in favour of the seating area. This was to ensure a more informal setting that I hoped would make John feel more comfortable. After a few minutes’ discussion of size and placement, John was advised to book 3 hours, which would total at £120.
 
On the day of Johns appointment, the regular procedure  that is undertaken for each tattoo was followed – the work station was prepared and sterilised, before the pre-printed stencils of varying sizes where shown to John for his selection, each of which were placed against the part of his arm to be tattooed as an indicator of how they might appear on the body. Once selected, the image was placed through the thermal copier machine to create the transfer, that was then applied to the intended body part, and after a 10-minute waiting period for the stencil to dry, tattooing commenced.
 
The process begins with the black coloured outline, before moving on to colour, working from the darkest to the lightest tone to avoid causing any ‘murkiness’ in appearance. During the tattooing process, conversation ensued surrounding the design choice. John was in his early twenties, and a part of the online PC gaming community. He told me how he was getting this tattoo ahead of his upcoming trip to Center Parcs, where he and a few others who also play the game from which the symbol is from where going together – all of which were from different parts of the UK. His choice to get the tattoo of the gaming symbol prior to his holiday was in part an effort to express his commitment to the community to which he is involved.
 
Part of my social development as a practitioner in a service industry involves ensuring client comfort through attempting to relate. Though not at all interested in gaming to the same extent as John, and so unable to offer much to the conversation in such a regard, I mentioned that I had a strong desire to play the game ‘Street fighter’, that is rooted in a romanticised nostalgic memory of playing the game as an adolescent. John transpired to be very knowledgeable about ‘Street Fighter’, and a prolonged period of time was spent in discussion of our memories of the game.
 
As the conversation developed, John began to ask about my job as a tattooist. He had looked at my work via my ‘Instagram’ page after booking an appointment, as my ‘Instagram’ link is stated on my business card. He noticed that many of the pieces I had created where in black ink only, and stylistically different from the piece I was doing for him, and he was curious as to what made me take on his brief. I explained that the skills required to complete his tattoo could be considered that of a craftsperson – insomuch as the design was already produced and decided, and it simply required a practitioner who was able to work with the materials of tattooing in a skilled manner to create it for him. I went on to explain how although my personal taste maybe more accurately reflected in some of the pieces I had included in my ‘Instagram’ portfolio, I was capable of tattooing in other styles also, and that my thoughts on the tattoo output are of secondary value to the client. I expressed that I was simply grateful to be tattooing, and would only take on work that I felt I good do a sufficient job of.
 
As I informed John of this, I recognised a slight emotion of guilt that was rooted in the knowledge that other more experienced tattooists in the same studio would have been able to produce the tattoo to a higher standard in regards to line quality and colour saturation, but I had taken this job on myself as I had dealt with the initial inquiry and believed I could produce the tattoo suitably. The desire to take on the job in the knowledge that others could produce a better output was not simply for financial sustenance alone (though this may often be the case in similar scenarios with many tattooists), but also to adhere to the pressures of working as a junior tattooist in a successful studio filled with more qualified practitioners, displaying a degree of confidence that demonstrates a desire to be successful and generate income for the studio.
 
As I looked at the tattoo I was producing and noted the comfort that John appeared to be in on a social level comparative to his arrival, despite the physical pain generated for a long duration, I considered how the tattoo experience is more than simply the output of the interaction. As John had trouble with speech occasionally and had vocalised having issues with sociability, I made it my intention to create a space for him to feel comfortable as far as possible, and engaged in conversation. I considered some of the tattooing experiences I have had, with some of the most respected tattooist internationally, and how some of them appeared to not care for the psychological comfort of me as a client in a way that I aim to do for my own clients.
 
Though I am very pleased with the outcome of tattoos from such experiences, the tattoo as a material form is also associated with the memory of a largely negative experience in which I was made to feel inferior or considered as indifferent through lack of interaction, or the audience of egotistical ramblings. When looking at my own tattoos, I recall the experience of getting them, and thus perceive them differently to how I would have, had the tattooist conducted themselves in a different manner. I considered how my attempt to bring myself to the experience of tattooing in such a way that increased the likelihood of a more positive memory for the client could be considered a credential that is valuable to the role, but harder to express in material form.
 
As John and I continued discussing tattooing, he stated that he really liked the style of the work I was producing as a visual artist / designer, and that he would like to have another gaming tattoo produced in a similar style to my own. John then stated he would like to have a ‘Street Fighter’ character piece tattooed somewhere on his body, and I suggested that above the ankle would be a suitable placement due to the size of the area and the size he wanted the piece (relatively small, meaning that somewhere such as an arm would make the piece look lost). As the tattoo experience ended, John stated that he would consider a further tattoo based on our discussion, and wanted to spend some time deciding on a character to be depicted. After receiving aftercare instructions, John had informed me he would be in touch in the future to book in for his next piece. The finished tattoo appeared suitable to fulfil what he required, and I contemplated how if he was unhappy with it, he would not be considering returning to get another piece from me. 

Tattoo 2

A few days later, I received an email from John regarding his character choice for his tattoo. He had selected a character named ‘Vega’ that wore a face mask and a claw, which he deemed to be suitably visually interesting. I invited John to come to studio to discuss further and make a deposit to secure the booking. A few days later John came to the studio, and we discussed the size and specific placement of the tattoo. On the character selection screen of ‘Street Fighter’ games, the player icons are made to face opposing each other to indicate that it is ‘x’ vs ‘x’. John and I considered how as a placement choice we could make it so that the tattoo he gets of ‘Vega’ on his right ankle could be joined by another character being tattooed in the future to echo the way that the selection screen appears.
 
Enthusiastic about the idea for placement, John booked in his first appointment, with the intention of booking in for another in another in the near future in the equivalent place of the opposite leg. On the day of the appointment, the regular procedures were followed of preparing the skin area, placing the stencil on the leg, and performing the tattoo. The character of ‘Vega’ was positioned to face outwards from the inside of the lower left leg. The size of the design was dictated by the area in which it would be placed (in addition to client budget and preference), and as a single tattoo, appeared to read better positioned in such a way compositionally. On leaving the studio, John expressed that he would be back in the near future to book in for another piece.
 
After a few days, John emailed to inquire about coming into the studio again to chat. Though emailing ahead to meeting is not necessary, I had noticed how John appears to feel more comfortable with a formally arranged meeting than just simply, ‘turning up’. We arranged a time and date for a consultation, which John turned up for punctually. With many clients, the consultation takes place stood up over the desk area, however as I had sensed in the past that John is more comfortable talking when seated, I asked him to take a seat in the studio waiting area, where I joined him and offered him some water from the cooler. He showed me how his almost-healed tattoo, which he seemed happy with, and we discussed another character to add to the opposite leg. Unsure of his selection at that point, but sure that he wanted to be tattooed, an appointment was made for the following week, with the request for a decision a few days later to allow sufficient time to produce a drawing. 



Picture
Freshly tattooed 'Vega' piece.
Tattoo 3

I received some image reference from John a few days later, and created a stylised version of the character of his choosing, in a style that was visually similar to the tattoo I had created on Johns other leg. The character of his choosing is named ‘Akuma’ and has notable jewellery around his neck in the form of large wooden mala beads, that make a visually engaging composition. The stencil for the tattoo was created from the source image that John sent, and drawn using a calligraphy pen to create a varied quality of line, with a design that celebrates the qualities of the ‘unfinished’ and the ‘sketch-like’.
 
John turned up on the day of his appointment, selected the appropriate size for his ‘Akuma’ tattoo, and the stencil was then placed on the body. It was at this point that I noticed that the position of the figure was not consistent with the tattoo of ‘Vega’. Although the intention was to make it appear so that the figures were facing each other in a way that emulates the character selection screen of the game, the way that the body frames the tattoos meant that this wouldn’t appear compositionally ‘right’. Upon noticing the contrast, the design was taken back onto Adobe Photoshop, where it was flipped at the exact same size, and printed again to be made into a stencil for a tattoo of consistent orientation.
 
I considered in this time how tattooing is unique in that the body dictates an element of the design choice, in contrast to the traditional 2D surfaces such as paper or canvas. The body is also asymmetric to varying degrees, with centre points often being relative to visual perspective and bodily stance. In this circumstance, John and I agreed that the choice we had taken made more sense, and that should another 2 characters be added to his ankle area, they could be on the outer sides and thus fulfil the original aim to emulate the character selection screen of ‘Street Fighter’.
 
We proceeded to complete the tattoo, with John also interacting with other members of the studio surrounding their mutual interests in TV series and games. I noticed that in this instance John appeared to move more during the process, making tattooing more of a challenge. After moving fairly frequently, I witnessed myself feeling irritable, and simultaneously feeling annoyed at myself for feeling irritable. I understood that the area I was tattooing was prone to create involuntary movements and can be painful, and understood rationally that the movements where not the result of any lack of attempt to stay still. Despite this acknowledgement, I found myself feeling frustrated by the consistent movements, and noticed myself being less engaging with John in the way that I would have liked to have been. In the realisation of this, the frustration turned towards myself; in the moment of tattooing, with the full awareness of the permanence of the medium and the trust placed in me by John to create the piece successfully, I felt that any deviation in the design from my intent, based on client movement, was a failure.
 
I considered my feelings towards the tattoos I had got from tattooists I admire, but that bring to mind not necessarily pleasant experiences, and felt a sense of guilt for potentially creating a similar experience for John. I also felt a sense of ignorance for not taking into consideration that tattoos are not just produced on humans, but by humans, who may have a range of factors affecting their conduct, which may account for some of my personal negative experiences. Fortunately, my irritability did not seem to be picked up on by John, and he seemed very satisfied with both the outcome of the tattoo and the tattooing experience. 

The original positioning of the stencil, which was flipped in order to match the tattoo on the opposite leg.
Freshly tattooed 'Akuma' piece.
Both 'Street Fighter' themed tattoos in context.
Considerations for future practice

As John left, I thanked him for getting tattooed by me, and he told me that he would be in touch soon with other ideas. My experience of tattooing John on 3 separate occasions made me consider how clients can become established based on more than just the tattoo as an output, but on their relationship with the practitioner. The tattoos that I created for John on the second and third occasion where never Johns intentions when he first came in to the studio, but resulted from the initial interaction. I also considered how the experience on the third occasion made apparent that the body as an object has a level of design input, as the tattoo is restricted to the confides of form and flow.
 
My awareness of my ‘shortness’ of attitude with John made me feel regretful of my conduct and lack of ability to override my egoic response to his movements, despite being aware that tattooing is a painful and durational process. The transactional nature of tattooing as an industry requires a level of professionalism as a service, however to divorce the fact that tattoos are produced by humans and on humans results in only a partial understanding of the nature of the role. My experiences with John as they have been recorded here, serve as an example of the layers that exist in tattooing practice, and as a reminder to myself for how to improve my role as tattooist on a material and social level, as well as recognising aspects of myself that are not serving my personal growth. 

​

Adam McDade 

Tattooist at Triplesix Studios
AHRC NPIF Funded PhD Research Student at The University of Sunderland

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Autoethnographic Reflections on Practice - Memorial Tattoos

14/8/2019

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The following is an autoethnographic account of performing 2 small matching tattoos, in commemoration of a deceased loved one. The account outlines the design process on a material level, and additionally offers insights from the perspective of the practitioner on what thoughts and considerations are made during this stage. This personal account at its focus offers insight into the conduct of the tattooist when dealing with tattoos that are obtained for purposes beyond the visual exclusively, and how the practitioner and client relate. The purpose of the account is to elucidate on the multifaceted role of the tattooist, in order to better understand the nature of the practice. 

Linda and Samantha
(Names changed for confidentiality purposes)
​Booking
 
Linda came into the tattoo studio on a Friday afternoon to make an appointment for a small piece. As a junior tattooist, part of my role still involves helping out on the desk (booking client appointments, taking payment from clients etc.), which I was doing on this occasion. After greeting Linda who told me that she wanted a tattoo on her ankle area, I asked to see a photograph of what she was hoping for. At an estimate, Linda was aged somewhere around her 50’s. She was of average weight and tanned complexion, with around 2 or 3 relatively large (distinguishable from a distance) tattoos on her arms, and as I came to see when she showed me where around her ankle she wanted the tattoo to be placed – a smaller text tattoo of a name on her ankle.
 
It is often the case (in the post-industrial town of Sunderland, at least) that when discussing tattoo designs/placement with clients who have fairly limited tattoos and are of a particular age, that expectations may not be realistic. An example may be that the client wants a large piece of text tattooed in a small area – unaware that the tattoo ageing process may make the piece illegible over time. Similarly, a client may request a portrait of their dog / child / partner, but be only able to provide a photograph that is of low resolution for the tattooist to use as a reference which would be insufficient to complete the piece with desirable quality. This wasn’t the case for Linda however, and it appeared that she had considered the piece by her confidence in placement, size, and design simplicity. This consideration was also apparent in her tone and demeanour, which appeared to be confident and defined.
 
Linda showed an image on her mobile phone, which she had indicated she would like to be tattooed above her ankle. The design looked as though it was from a sign that had been placed in a public space such as a train platform community notice board, or in a doctor waiting room, and read, ‘You are not alone. Not now. Not Ever. Don’t Give Up’. In the centre of the design was a silhouetted icon of the Disney character Mickey mouse, but with an additional circular silhouette with a hollow inside that was placed on each ear, to suggest the ears where expanded. On initially looking at the design, I had not considered that the circular shapes inside of the ears where indications of expanded ears, as I was looking at the image from a purely pragmatic standpoint in regards to its suitability as a tattoo, to be placed above the name already tattooed on the ankle. Though I recognised the design was not the traditional portrayal of ‘Mickey Mouse’, the significance of the deviance from the original icon at that point was not relevant to my assessment of the design translation from screen/print, to skin.

Linda stated she wanted the silhouette to be coloured ‘a nice purple’, which she reinstated when making the booking, and around 2.5 x 2.5 inches in size. I assured Linda that we could gather together some pre-mixed coloured ink bottles on the day, and she could select the purple pigment of her choosing. I told her that the tattoo should take around an hour, and I was able to do it for her for £40 (the studio minimum charge, and my hourly rate). Linda was suitably satisfied with this, and booked to have her tattoo on the following Tuesday, leaving the full tattoo cost as a non-refundable deposit. When leaving a deposit, it is necessary that the member of desk staff inform the client that the deposit is non-refundable prior to taking the money. I made Linda aware of this, and she confidently assured me that she would definitely arrive for her appointment, which I didn’t doubt. I asked Linda to email me the image, from which I would prepare a design. This is ordinary practice within the studio and ensures that the reference image from which the tattooist produces a design adheres to the clients request appropriately.
 
 
Design process
 
Around 45 minutes from leaving the studio, Linda had emailed the image to me, from which the design was to be produced. The image was a photograph of a laminated sign taken on a slight angle. I downloaded the attachment and copied it into an Adobe photoshop a4 document, where I had intended to see if I was able to make a stencil from the photograph. Due to the angle, I was not, and so I utilised google image search to find an image for the search, ‘mickey mouse head icon’.
 
The images where all silhouetted icons, however it was only the outline of the shape that I required, and so I intended to generate a line drawing from the existing shape to utilise as a stencil and inform my tattooing process. A silhouette was isolated, copied, and pasted into the already open photoshop document. As the icon was placed alongside the image that Linda had sent to me, I remembered that the intended design included the circular shapes in the ears. I was still unaware that these shapes where indicators of expanded, but wanted to honour the original design, and so using the shape tool, created a white circle that was then placed over the ear area of the design. The placement was informed by the original photograph, and once the left-hand side of the image appeared correct, the full design was marked in the centre, the left-hand side copied, and then mirrored / placed over the top of the right-hand side of the image to ensure perfect symmetry.
 
This composite design was then selected using the magic wand tool, before being contracted by around 4 pixels and feathered slightly, for the selection to then be deleted, leaving an outline of the shape that could then act as the stencil. I composed the shape on a sheet of paper 4 times at varying sizes, and followed the same outlining procedure for a version of the icon without the additional edits to the ears. These versions of the design where also created in 4 sizes that reflect the first set, and placed on the same piece of paper. The sheet was then printed, to be shown to Linda on the morning of her tattoo so that she could pick a suitable size for her tattoo (though deviance in size from those which are printed is possible, and the sheet is merely an informed guideline in accordance to clients original stated size for the tattoo). Both versions of the image where included (traditional Mickey mouse and expanded ear mickey mouse), as at this point I was unsure if Linda simply was unable to locate a version of the design without expanded ears for any reason. 
Picture
The original photograph of the image that was sent
​Appointment Morning
 
The design sheet was placed in my tattooing booth on Saturday afternoon, in preparation for the appointment on Tuesday morning when the studio opened. Linda arrived at around 10:45, 15 minutes ahead of the appointment time, and had brought another person with her. I greeted Linda with and intentional but sincere familiarity of tone, expressed through an informal “hello’, and gave her a consent form to complete (mandatory for every tattoo session, irrespective of the client is new or returning). I had assumed that Linda’s companion was simply company for the appointment, which is very common, however she had asked if she could also be tattooed with the same design, on her forearm. I checked the schedule, calculated that I should have both tattoos completed by around 1pm which would allow me to cover the front-desk so that my colleague would be able to have her 1pm lunch break, and said that I should be able to complete the tattoo for Linda’s friend directly after tattooing Linda.
 
Lindas companion was named Samantha, and appeared around 10 years younger than Linda, and had a similar demeanour of sincerity but slightly less confident and more timid. I later found out that Samantha was Lindas cousin, who had decided to get the tattoo after hearing that Linda had booked in for the piece. After both clients had filled in their consent forms, I brought over the design sheet and explained that I had included both version of the design (Mickey mouse with and without expanded ears), and asked which they would prefer. Confidently, they both opted for the expanded ear version of the design without any hesitation, confirming that the design was of significance. It was at this point that I recognised that the circles in the ears where expanders, and that the tattoo was likely a memorial of a person who both Linda and Samantha had lost. I asked both clients to take a seat while I cut out various sizes of the design, which I then brought over to them to place next to the area to be tattooed so they could gain a more accurate understanding of the placement.
 
After the desired sizes where selected, I created a stencil to work from, dealing with Lindas first as she would be getting the tattoo before Samantha. During this process, I thought back to the image that was originally sent to me as reference and the words. I couldn’t recall the specific words, but I remembered them as being something to the effect of “you’re not alone” and “never give up”. It was at this point that I made the inference that the loss both Linda and Samantha suffered was due to suicide. Though the tattoo as a symbolic memory of a specific individual was stated, the cause of death never actually confirmed and it did not feel appropriate to ask for details. It later transcended that person being memorialised was young, had expanded ears, and named Michael. My recognition of the seemingly obvious symbolic significance of the piece was so delayed due to my focus on the material nature of the brief on first encounter. I was not looking at the image to draw out any particular meaning, but merely considering if the design would work as a tattoo. I recognised that when performing the role of a tattooist, my interpretation of the same situation would be different than when not performing any specific role, as my assessment of the situation would not be guided by any particular requirements to be fulfilled.
 
 
Tattooing Process - Linda
 
As I now became aware that the tattoo I was completing was not merely pictorial, but perhaps ceremonial, the felt sense of responsibility was amplified. Interestingly, it was not the pressure to ensure the tattoo was well-executed that I felt the most crucial aspect of my role at this particular point, but my desire was to ensure that both clients where suitably comfortable at all points in whatever way possible seemed of a higher priority. I asked Linda and Samantha to come over to the booth and brought a chair for Samantha to sit in while I tattooed Linda, and vice-versa. As we walked over and I prepared Linda’s skin surface to be tattooed, I made a particular effort to keep my conversation tone light, while simultaneously trying to welcome any depth of content that she would like to share. My tone of voice contained a ‘brightness’ to try and communicate openness and acceptance of whatever Linda wanted to share with me, and when Linda started to speak about Michael, I asked questions that elaborated on the content she was already discussing (such as his taste in music and how his brother is emulating it now). The questions where along the lines of ‘…so did Michael play an instrument?”, and I had tried to ensure that what I was asking was not overly personal, but personal enough for Linda to understand that I was willing to listen to whatever she was comfortable to share, and create a space for her to do so.
 
The duty I felt to be present in such a way is not unique to being tattooist and a simple human instinct, however as memorial tattooing is commonplace, tattooists may more commonly have to develop skills in being present to ensure client comfort. While waiting for the stencil to dry, I poured ink into my ink caps, attached the appropriate needle gauge to the tattoo machine in accordance to the stencil thickness, and went to the bathroom to tie back my hair as a health and safety precaution. Linda and Samantha talked between each other at this point, and I offered them both a drink of water between the other tasks. I brought Linda 3 different tones of dark purple to choose from for the colour of her tattoo, and kept the bottle that she had selected on top of the booth area to refill for when it came to tattooing Samantha, ensuring that the tones matched. 
 
After around 10 minutes when the stencil dried, I adjusted the tattoo bed so that Linda was able to sit up asked her to stretch the tattooing leg out straight, and began the tattooing procedure, starting with the outline. As the procedure continued Linda told me that after booking her appointment with me she had looked at my social media accounts by following the links that are included on my appointment card. She recognised my surname – McDade, and contacted my uncle of the same surname who she is friends with, to see if we were any relation. My uncle informed her of our relation, and that I was his brothers’ son.
 
It transpired that Linda was active in the music scene during the 1970’s, and regularly went to local gigs. My late father, ‘Blue’ (as he was ironically referred to as due to his high decibel and distinctly decipherable booming laugh that it is likely was only ever present as a mechanism to deal with his social anxiety and life-long depression, and so actually ‘meta-ironic’), played in popular progressive rock band named ‘Cirkus’. Linda told me how she had known my dad and had enjoyed watching his band perform many times. She expressed her condolences for his death in April 2016, in which he had suffered heart failure as a result of what is believed to have been a deliberate failure to take medication resulting in the ending of a life that was burdened by a serious of health conditions such as prostate cancer, deep vein thrombosis, fibromyalgia, life-long depression and alcoholism. His 62-year-old body was found on the floor of his apartment in which he lived alone by my sister who had a spare key, around 4 days after his death based on the coroner’s estimation. My relationship with my dad was very positive overall, though we were never able to be as close as we both would have wanted due to his excessive absence and unreliability in my childhood and adolescence which was largely the result of his self-medicative relationship with alcohol to deal with his depression.  His death was simultaneously sad and relieving, as his health issues made his premature death an inevitably that had been anticipated for over half my adult life, after being told to ‘expect the worst’ when visiting him off and on in hospital over the past decade and a half.
 
Linda’s expression of condolence made me aware that she was already informed of my own loss, and we had a shared experience of grievance. As I continued to outline the tattoo – an already intimate procedure in which I am touching the clients body with my hands, with the remainder of my body in close proximity and with the client positioned in such a manner that is aimed towards informal relaxation (it is important to ensure a client is comfortable when they are being tattooed and have them in a position that maximises this), the intimacy of the exchange became more nuanced. I stated that my comparative loss was not the same and that Linda’s was no doubt more severe, as Michael was significantly younger than my Dad, who’s death had been anxiously anticipated far ahead of it happening.
 
As we spoke through the tattooing process, switching from the outline to beginning the colour, the exchange felt significantly more personal than tattooing a standard client. Linda’s design choice was semiotic in its communication of loss in that she had chosen to have it embodied, and she was additionally aware of my personal biographical narrative regarding my relationship with my dad. Though tattooing for a longer period of time invites more informal and holistic conversation than other service industries might (such as massage), the personal involvement in this instance required a combination of professionalism (ensuring client physical comfort, checking that they are OK in regards to the pain etc) and personal presence (that is, being present as Adam, with my own sense of self, rather than simply as a tattooist).
 
I told Linda that her skin was accepting the purple coloured ink very well (sometimes purple can be difficult to appear saturated depending on client skin type), and she appeared to be completely comfortable with the physical pain. She stated that she did not believe that tattoos hurt her much, and I relied on my canned tattooist response (though true) that women tend to be able to tolerate pain better than men, and that comparatively to child-birth tattoos must a ‘walk in the park’. Canned comments such as this are useful as tools for the client to recognise that they are dealing with the pain very well, and to try and help them to feel positive. It was apparent in Lindas demeanour that the pain was not actually affecting her due to her stillness, which may be inferred to be comparatively easier to handle than the grievance she was experiencing.
 
On completion of the tattoo, I wiped down all the excess ink and asked Linda if she would like to take a look at it in the mirror. On the way to the mirror, she showed Samantha who had been seated during the process, who expressed her fondness of the tattoo. Linda returned with a smile, stating she was very happy with the piece and thanking me, before her tattoo was wrapped in cling film for protection. It felt more appropriate to hug her than simply thank her for allowing me to do the tattoo for her, with the professional environment in which the tattoo was produced being the dominant deterrent to such an exchange. I asked both Linda and Samantha if they could please take a seat at the front of the studio so that I could clean down the work station and prepare it again for Samantha’s tattoo. As I proceeded to remove cling-film and protective layers from the surfaces and into the toxic waste bag, I considered how this creation of space shares parallel to that of a shamanic healing facilitator, in which a ceremonial environment is created and cleansed (though through smudged sage, rather than medical grade disinfectant) for trauma to be dealt with and navigated with the assistance of a practitioner. It was not the role of ‘shaman’ in its full array of responsibilities that I thought was comparable, but rather the attribute of the role as a facilitator for an experience. 
Picture
Lindas tattoo (other tattoo censored for confidentiality purposes)
​Samantha
 
After taking the time to set up the space, I asked Linda and Samantha if they wanted to return to the booth. Linda sat in the chair with her mobile phone in her hand, and I noticed she was sharing a photograph of her new tattoo to her Facebook account. Samantha had a far less confident demeanour than Linda – she was much shyer in her mannerisms but wore a consistent smile. The smile seemed authentic and sincere, but as though it was just a veneer to cover up some unbearable pain that it would not be socially acceptable to make visible to a stranger. It was a genuine smile, but it was present to express politeness, rather than happiness. Though given the motivation for the tattoo, a sense of sadness was to be expected, It felt as though it was sourced in something more deeply rooted than one particular event or reason.
 
Samantha had chosen the forearm as the placement for the tattoo rather than her ankle, where Linda had placed it, and requested for it to be slightly smaller in size. I vocalised that small, often almost invisible hairs can interfere with the tattoo stencil to Samantha. As I shaved the discreet white-coloured hairs from her arm in preparation for the stencil, she told expressed that she feels she is hairier than she ‘should’ be in an almost apologetic tone. I assured her that it is very normal and natural to have body hair, and that she didn’t have to worry. The tone of shame that I detected confirmed that the other aspects of her nonverbal communication that lead to my inferences of her vulnerability where perhaps correct, and I was able to infer their presence through sharing similar traits and characteristic throughout my life. I positioned the stencil on the arm, checked that she was happy with the placement, and adjusted the bed so that she could lay down with her arm out straight on an arm rest.
 
Though tattooists have different preferences for client positioning when tattooing, I find that having clients lay down assists in the feeling of relaxation, thus helping to alleviate any nerves that may be present. Following the same procedure as when tattooing Linda, the outline was completed with the same needle gauge. As the tattooing commenced, It did not feel appropriate to discuss the death of Michael due to Samantha’s vulnerability. Instead, I opted for more ‘small-talk’ forms of conversation, and learned that Samantha worked in a retail outlet, and would be going into work later that afternoon. She stated that she thought the job was OK, and didn’t mind going in to work. Samantha’s smile was consistent throughout the conversation and the remainder of the tattooing procedure, though her responses (though very polite) where limited, and didn’t prompt many further questions to naturally occur.
 
It seemed that even speaking was painful for Samantha, which I wanted to respect for her tattoo experience. As I used my non-tattooing left hand to stretch the skin around the area to be tattooed, I felt very aware of amount of pressure that was necessary that I otherwise would not have considered. Samantha’s arms where thin and appeared delicate, and I felt uncomfortable in both putting pressure on her arm and in inflicting the pain that the tattoo process incurs. It didn’t feel appropriate to be causing additional pain to somebody I deemed to be suffering so much already. I contemplated how this feeling has occurred in other scenarios, such as tattooing people who are aged only around 18 or 19, or people who clearly find the pain more difficult to tolerate. I had to consider how my interpretation of my analysis of her situation and character would likely be at least in part my own projection, though perhaps combined with some sense of intuitive understanding.
 
As I began the colour stages there were no words that were exchanged, but the silence did not feel at all uncomfortable. As the blood rose to the surface of the saturated coloured areas of the tattoo, the process of wiping it away with a baby-wipe and continuing to extract more though the continued tattooing reminded me of my earlier comparison of shamanic healing ceremony and tattooing procedure. The pain that was being initiated coupled with the care that was taken to assure the comfort, and the necessity of the client to surrender to the sensation, reminded me of my personal experiences of dealing with trauma during an ayahuasca ceremony. The blood was the body purging, wiping it away was a means of cleansing, and the finished tattoo was the rebirth and reclamation of the sense of self.
 
As the procedure finished and after following the usual protocols I wrapped up Samantha’s arm, I attempted to keep the conversation light. Part of Samantha’s vulnerability may have indeed been the nerves she could have been experiencing in undergoing the tattooing process, as there was a sense of brightness in her tone of voice. This may have been the relief of the process being finished, the acquisition of a new embodied signifier, or the assistance that having underwent the procedure had in the grievance procedure. I thanked both Linda and Samantha, who were both charged the minimum amount for a tattoo (£40), went over the aftercare instructions, and said goodbye. They thanked me in return, generously tipped me £5, and left the studio.
 
Picture
Samanthas Tattoo
Closing Reflections
 
The account given is very specific and unique to me as a tattooist, working in the town that I was born, and with the baggage of my own experiences that inform the lens for interpretation of the world and the people with whom I co-exist. Despite this, the nature of tattooing designs that are for the purposes of memorialising a deceased loved one is commonplace, irrespective of location. The tattooing procedure may induce amplified stress than if the piece was purely pictorial given the knowledge of the significance, and the subject matter may not necessarily be in keeping with the tattooists personal taste (as in this example, the tattooists subjective taste should not be relevant). The experience of client care may be require different skills, communication tone, and sensitivity, when dealing with memorial tattoos, and much like therapists, it is not uncommon to inherit the feelings of the client and care for their wellbeing once the procedure is over. Similarly, when dealing with performing memorial tattoos, it is not uncommon to draw upon personal experience in order to relate to the client, and create a mutual sense of trust and space for intimate exchange. This can result in reconjuring emotions in a way that otherwise may not have risen to the surface in an unpredictable fashion.
 
21st century Tattooing has been labelled a consumer commodity, which it very often can be, however it is important to recognise that not every tattoo is necessarily about the visual output alone, but the process being undertaken. Unlike traditional mediums such as painting or drawing, the tattooist’s role expands beyond the visual practitioner, as contemporary Western tattooing is a service industry. What tattooing has in common with disciplines such as graphic design or illustration is that the practitioner produces an output for a client based on their unique brief. What distinguishes tattooing however, is that the client is an inherent part of the output. Tattooists must therefore be skilled in factors that expand beyond the use of their materials alone, on a contingent and non-hierarchical basis. This blog post aims to serves as an introduction into what some of the necessary skills may be, and give an informed account of what the procedure of producing a memorial tattoo may look like.
 

Adam McDade

Tattooist at Triplesix Studios
AHRC NPIF Funded PhD Research Student at The University of Sunderland

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    Beyond the Epidermis: Research Blog

    A document of my experience working as a tattooist at Triplesix Studios, while also serving as a platform for my AHRC NPIF funded research as a PhD student in Design at the University of Sunderland.

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