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. 

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. 

​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. 

​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. 

​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.
 

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.
 

Participation in ‘Doing arts-based research’ workshop with Kitrina Douglas.
M-Shed, Bristol. 22/7.
 
Prior to the conference commencing, multiple workshops where held on varying themes that involved autoethnography. My research adopts a multi-method methodological approach combining autoethnography and practice, and so from the available selection, ‘doing arts-based research’ was deemed the most relevant. The personal aim of attendance was to gain some first-hand insights into how practice and autoethnography may relate, from those who utilise it as their established methodological approach.
 
Kitrina Douglas lead the session, and introduced aspects of her autoethnography work that utilised creative practice (such as music, poetry, and film-making) while working with marginalised groups dealing with taboo topics. Douglas shared a piece of performative autoethnography in the form of a song that she had written when working with marginalised ladies in Cornwall on a 4 day retreat. The song contained lyrics that told the story of one of the ladies’ repression, but also that where her own personal narrative that reflected the sentiments of the lady who she was working with. Douglass explained how the knowledge that was gained was not merely retold in the form of words in such a way that may be deemed exploitative of their biographical narratives, but shared in vulnerability by relating to the narrative personally. As a result, the research output in the form of song was deemed more accessible to non-academic audiences, and able to communicate in such a way that was beyond words alone.
 
The workshop also involved a 2-stage task. Kitrina began the task by whispering a word into the ear of a participant, who was then asked to go into the centre of the room and communicate the word using an absence of the spoken word and through the body and gesture alone. This was then guessed by other participants. The process was followed so that each member of the group was able to perform their given word. On completion, Kitrina asked each of us to write down responses to 3 questions;

1/ How did you feel when given your word?
2/ How did you feel after performing your word?
3/ How did you feel when watching others perform their word.
 
Kitrina then read out our responses in such a way that was anonymous, highlighting the commonalties in our experiences, but uniqueness in our words. Kitrina also utilised the task to serve as an example of how we communicate through much more than words alone, highlighting the use of arts-based outputs when dealing with autoethnographic material.
 
I feel that as a result of attending the workshop, my understanding of what autoethnography is, how it can be utilised and expressed, and the validity of its employment as a research methodology has been enriched. While my PhD research takes the form of a more traditional autoethnographic approach, my understanding of its versatility of application and multitude of form has given me confidence in claiming that I am utilising a form of autoethnography which I now understand cannot be pinned down to a singular approach. 


Attendance of presentations of other researchers / practitioners utilising autoethnographic methodological approaches, and presentation of research. 22 & 23/7.
 
Both the Monday and Tuesday of the conference featured presentations from autoethnographers from a variety of disciplines. The session on Monday the 22nd featured more established autoethnographers such as Ken Gale and David Carless. The work they presented took the form of traditional paper readings, conventionally formatted conference presentations, as well as musical and narrative performances. When the content was presented, the utilisation of the body in its various forms of expression assisted in the communication of the ideas, echoing the sentiments of the workshop held earlier in the day by Kitrina Douglas.
 
An example of this included the presentation titled ‘Trickster Tales’ by Lapin Ammattikorkeakoulu, who presented her autoethnography based on a tradition of call and response that is native to her African origins, and required the audience to recount a story (including actions) to the person who was situated next to them. Lapin then spoke on oral history and storytelling, using her personal narrative and embodied expression to communicate her messages. Other presentations included the themes of parenting in its various forms, and consisted of narrativised anecdotes that speak of the challenges when dealing with topics of toilet training, technology, and discussions on difficult topics such as religion when talking to children. The anecdotes where unique to the researchers, but generalisable in so much as the experiences have common equivalents that can be drawn.
 
I was given the opportunity to present my own research on Tuesday the 23rd, to a receptive audience of around 30 people. As I presented, I became aware that my presentation style was more fluent than it has been in the past due to social anxiety. Despite this still being something difficult to contend with, I recognised that my knowledge of the content that I was delivering allowed me to bypass my emotional responses to public speaking and communicate effectively. As I was speaking, I was made aware of audience engagement with the content through eye-gaze and laughter (where humour was intended). When reading an excerpt of my autoethnographic writing, I also heard an audience member state, ‘Yes! That’s it!’, which assisted in alleviating insecurities surrounding uncertainty as to if I was performing autoethnography ‘properly’. Due to time constraints that where the result of technological issues, no question session was able to be held, however multiple meaningful and mutually encouraging conversations with other presenters ensued throughout the day.
 
As the day continued, I attentively watched other presenters share their work on themes such as working as a counsellor dealing with themes of political contrast between therapist and patient (Travis Heath), working with colleagues with challenging attitudes while caring for patients with dementia (Gary Hodge), and dealing with the harmful institutional pressures and expectations when working within academia (Karen Lumsden). While watching the presentations, I recorded observations and notes on realisations that I was gaining on what autoethnography really is, and how it is valuable when dealing with topics that are difficult to communicate and document in more traditional methodological approaches.
 
The notes included comments such as;
 
‘Autoethnography acknowledges that research is conducted by a human, and doesn’t separate research from the researcher’
 
‘Autoethnography brings the somatic experience to the subject that is being researched, representing a topic with authenticity and recognition of nuance’.

‘Autoethnography is what Jack Kerouac does’

‘Autoethnography is a methodological approach that recognises the notion that we are spiritual beings having a human experience’
 
Though these notes where for my own understanding, they have been included in this report in the spirit of autoethnographic inquiry, as they are records of ideas / thoughts / questions that have been triggered by participating in the conference. In a similar fashion, diagrammatic forms where sketched based on personal interpretation of other presenters’ ways of utilising autoethnography, and how it is appropriate and valid to my own research. These included a visual response Fiona Murrays account of a spin class, that interweaved theory with both chronological narrative and internal workings, in recognition of the experience of participation in such an event. The notes made where not related to the presentation content alone, but what can be learned indirectly from having been present for the presentation. 

Summary
 
Attendance at the sixth British conference of autoethnography allowed me to have opportunity to engage with other practitioners using autoethnography to uncover information that is under represented. In addition, I was able to present my research to a knowledgeable audience and gain feedback, learn of the research of others that may be drawn upon to enhance my own understanding, and introduce my research to a network of (hopefully) potential future colleagues. As a result of my attendance, I feel that I am more confident in both presenting research and in my use of autoethnography, and engaged with my methodological approach as much as I am the subject of my research. I am very grateful to Northumbria-Sunderland CDT directors and AHRC for allowing me the opportunity to have participated in what I deem the most valuable conference I have attended to date.