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. 

​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.
 

Rebecca
(Name changed for confidentiality purposes)
 
Rebecca had contacted me via Facebook when she advised from desk staff that I would be able to tattoo her for a lower rate than the resident artists. She had sent the studio a message inquiring about the cost and availability to get a tattoo of a very small heart-shaped outline on her wrist area. Tattoos of this nature are referred to as ‘minimum-charge’ tattoos, and are generally considered those in which the actual tattooing process will take up to around 15 minutes, such as a name/date, initial, or basic pictorial piece. These tattoos are generally not sought after by tattooists, and an inquiry from a desk-staff member may be met with resistance.
 
A minimum charge tattoo at Triplesix is £40, however Rebecca was advised that she could get the tattoo for the lower rate of £20 if she was willing to be tattooed by the studio apprentice (me), with the price reflective of practitioner experience. Rebecca had messaged me personally to arrange an appointment around her working schedule and asked to come in to the studio for 10am. Despite the small size of the tattoo, the set-up of the work-station is the same. All equipment is thoroughly disinfected and wrapped before and after use, and a toxic-waste bag is used for each client, irrespective of the size of the tattoo. In many cases, tattoos of this nature take less time to perform than setting up the work station does, which is partly the reason why many tattooists are resistant to them. I prepared the station in preparation for Rebecca’s arrival, and a sheet of printed heart images in different sizes to provide a variety for her to choose from.   
 
I noticed who I assumed to be Rebecca waiting outside of the shop with her boyfriend having a cigarette at around 9:50 am. I assumed it to be Rebecca due to the direction of the eye gaze and picked up on a sense of nervousness from her actions and from my experience of observing others outside the shop displaying similar characteristics. Rebecca had turned 18 in the early days of December, and this was to be her first tattoo. When she entered the studio she approached the desk and was given a consent form, providing ID which was photocopied, and asked to take a seat. As I was aware of her nerves, I made an effort to appear as welcoming and approachable as possible to attempt to put her at ease.
 
I approached the seats in which her and her partner where seated, introduced myself, smiled, and wished her a belated happy birthday. I brought the sheet of various sized hearts over to her to have a look at and asked her to pick a size that best matched her intentions. During this time, I noticed how my behaviour and tone shifted in order to accommodate for her apparent discomfort, in a way that felt natural due to familiarity of tattooing others displaying similar characteristics. I reflected on how these characteristics where in keeping with my role as a tattooist, and how such conduct tends to be more necessary when dealing with tattoos that may be considered to adopt a craft approach and to be tattooed on what has been termed a ‘person with tattoos’ rather than a ‘tattooed person’ , that is, a person who may have a tattoo but not necessarily be considered part of the ‘tattooed community’.  Rebecca had selected her chosen size design, and then told to relax while I created a stencil for her tattoo, and that I would let her know when it’s ready. I offered her a drink of water while she waited and assured her that the set-up would probably take longer than the actual tattooing procedure, in an effort to make her feel less nervous and more at ease.
 
After running the design through the stencil machine, I invited Rebecca and her partner over to the booth. I brought a chair from the waiting area for her partner to sit on, and after inviting her to remove her jacket, I asked Rebecca to indicate where on the wrist she wanted the tattoo. She indicated that she wanted the design to be slightly right-aligned on her right wrist, and I asked her to assume a natural posture for the stencil application process to make for a representative indication of how the tattoo would appear in lived context. I noted the tension in Rebecca’s posture initially, which can be common when placing stencils on even the most experienced patrons or ‘tattooed person(s)’.
 
Amidst the noticeable tension I became aware of the surroundings that are every day and normative to me and my colleagues but may be intimidating to those unfamiliar with the tattoo studio environment. The distinct smell of antiseptic ‘Dettol’ used to mop the floors on a daily basis, the equipment within the station such as a tattoo bed (massage bed), arm rest, or trolley, all of which are wrapped in cling film, with a box of latex gloves nearby to be worn when touching the skin. The array of ink bottles in the ink wells, and the distinctive tattooing stool, machine, and equipment – such as individual sheets of kitchen roll, baby wipes, ink caps, petroleum jelly, and needles. This assemblage of tattoo culture is what I recall romanticising in youth for its novelty and distinctiveness, which led my enthusiasm and interest in the medium. I considered how although the collective experience of being in a tattoo studio may seem welcoming to myself, to an outsider it may be particularly intimidating, with the classical associations of pain elicited from the presence of needles and sounds of buzzing tattoo machinery. In light of such considerations – I noted how to perform my role optimally for clients of a similar nature requires skills in compassion and empathy, as much as skill in inserting pigment into the skin.

Once the stencil was applied, I asked Rebecca to take a seat on the wrapped tattoo bed while it dried. I informed her I was going to select the appropriate needles for the tattoo based on her size selection, invited her to have another cigarette if she required it, and offered her another glass of water. I encouraged her to take a seat when she was ready, and to relax – assuring her that the expectation of pain is generally reported to exceed the actual pain felt for most first-time tattoo patrons. After around 10 minutes I placed Rebeccas arm on an arm rest, adjusted the bed to an appropriate height, and informed Rebecca that I was going to begin the procedure by going over the stencil initially, before wiping away any excess ink with a baby wipe and evaluating if any areas required an additional pass. I felt it was important to indicate my intentions to Rebecca, to eliminate any potential concerns that may occur due her unfamiliarity with the process. This can be compared to good dental or medical practice, where the practitioner outlines the procedural conduct.
 
After ensuring Rebecca was ready and informing her that if she wanted a break at any point to let me know, I created the first line of the tattoo. As the needle left the skin for the first time, I looked up towards Rebecca and asked, “how is it?” – to which she responded, “not anywhere near as bad as I was expecting” with a tone of relief made apparent through the laughter within the vocalisation that can be assumed to be a relief on tension. As I continued the tattooing procedure, I made an effort to maintain ‘small-talk’ asking Rebecca what her plans where for the rest of the day, what she studies, and what her and her partner have planned for the Christmas period. I considered the importance of ‘small-talk’ as not only a method on maintaining comfort of a client, but in creating a relationship that may potentially be maintained in the future if the client considers another tattoo.
 
After the initial outline, the excess ink was wiped away revealing the tattooed design. I noticed areas in which I had not inserted pigment sufficiently, which I put down to both my junior status and my desire to avoid inflicting pain (for more accomplished tattooists, a tattoo of such a nature does not require a second pass). I informed Rebecca that I would now go over the areas that required another pass and assured her that it wouldn’t take much longer for the procedure to be completed. I also informed her that she was sitting very well, in an effort to maintain enthusiasm and distract from any pain. After around 2 – 3 minutes, the tattoo was complete. I wiped away the excess ink, and asked Rebecca if she wanted to take a look at it the mirror before I wrapped it up in cling film for protection.
 
As Rebecca walked toward the mirror, I paid attention to her expression in order to gauge if she was satisfied with the outcome. She smiled as she looked at her wrist in the mirror, rotating it to view it from various angles, before returning to the booth and declaring she was happy with the outcome and that she thinks it looks ‘cute’. The satisfaction demonstrated by her shift in demeanour may be induced from both the acquisition of a new tattoo, as well as having overcome a fear successfully. I responded that I was very pleased she was happy with it, and then placed a protective layer of petroleum jelly over the piece and wrapping it with cling-film, secured by micro-pore tape. I then discussed aftercare procedures and gave her a printed sheet which explained what I had vocalised, informed her to call back into the studio should she have any question or concerns, and thanked her for allowing me to participate in her first tattoo. She paid me £20, thanked me, and left the studio with her partner.
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As I went to clean the booth where I was working, another tattooist informed me that it would be more time efficient to not wrap all aspects of the working area for tattoos of such a small nature (I had wrapped the full bed but was only required to wrap the arm rest). While removing all the cling film wrappings and disinfecting my equipment for the next tattoo of the day, I considered how tattoos of such a nature (often referred to as minimum-charge tattoos) require skills from the practitioner that are external to tattooing and also may outweigh the gravity of difficulty of the tattooing procedure. In addition to my technical skills needing to adapt to each brief from a practical standpoint, my conduct must also be malleable in order to effectively perform my role.
 
As a generally introverted and self-aware 29-year-old heterosexual male based in the post-industrial town of Sunderland, tattooing an 18 year old female who I have never met and is getting her first tattoo in the knowledge that I am an apprentice carries a certain gravity. In addition to executing the tattoo, I am also required to bypass my social anxiety; address the client in an appropriate manner so as not to patronise her due to the age gap while simultaneously ensuring her comfort. I must touch her for a prolonged period of time in a manner typically reserved for traditional forms of intimacy, being careful not to make the client feel uncomfortable, and explaining the necessity of my conduct. I also have to contend to the pressure and responsibility that I assume in taking on a tattoo in which any mistake is visually apparent, for a client new to tattooing, and as a junior practitioner. I must additionally feel ethically justified in offering the tattoo at a lower rate than that of a senior tattooist to a client to whom budget may be a greater consideration, due to age and access to income.
 
Factors of such a nature are not representative of tattooing practice in general, but certainly are true of many minimum-charge tattoos conducted on people with fewer tattoos. The tattoo on Rebecca parallels similar context-appropriate considerations to that on a 65-year-old pensioner, getting the initials of their deceased spouse. Though seemingly simple from a design perspective, such tattoos demand a skillset from the practitioner that is distinct from tattooing practice in isolation. These intangible skills are to be cultivated as part of the occupational requirements of a tattooist. To acknowledge importance to the role thus requires us to re-asses the criteria of what we mean when we talk about what constitutes a ‘good tattooist’ more broadly.  Tattooing is a contingent and inherently collaborative medium; the practitioner must therefore be malleable to the multifaceted conditions of the brief.