Tattoos & Faith
—Tattoos & Faith—
Is something I’ve been mulling over recently. A popular topic? I don’t assume so, but a one that’s piqued my interest nonetheless. Perhaps it’s the masochist in me, but I rather enjoy the both the sensation (I often describe it to folks as though someone is scratching you really hard for a really long time), and the process: the hunt for a new artist (or the returning to an existing one), the conversations in the shop, and the creative process involved. But more than anything I enjoy the art. Most of my tattoos are imbued with some degree of meaning, but some are just cool art for cool art’s sake (insert MGM modus operandi here).
As a—relative to most—recently tattooed individual (got my first in 2019 with my wife, ‘The Beautiful One’, as a fun means to celebrate our marriage), I’ve learned that tattoo culture—at least in LA—has changed in recent decades. Gone—or at least limited—in trendy, white-people circles, are the super thick lines, the spider-webbed elbows and the traditional nautical stars—the erstwhile hallmarks of tough guys and badassery. While not altogether absent, tattoos and tattoo artists have seemingly embraced the open-to-anyone, laid-back shop environment, the dainty flower outlines, the cute pets-in-snuggle-limbo, and the fine lines of ultra realism. Changes of which I commend.
And as I continue to decorate (or desecrate, idk jury’s still out) my body I’ve come to realize that faith is an integral part of the tattoo(ing) process. Faith, not in the religious sense (if the two can indeed be separated), but the colloquial, i.e., Trust. Trust in the artist. Trust in yourself. Trust that you won’t regret your decision the morning after or 45 years from now. A perfectionist by nature, I want each piece to be perfect: I want the design to be perfect, the lines, the artist. It will be, after all, on your body and a part of you for the rest of your life. Thus, all of my tattoos (with the exception of one) are the result of months of careful planning: (I repeat myself, but…) the design, discourse with the artist—finding the right artist—placement on my body, significance of the piece (do I want this now or a year from now?), and other such considerations.
But I’ve also realized that even after all that careful planning, things can’t always be perfect. Some artists prefer to wait until the day-of to showcase the finished design; some designs don’t always translate perfectly to the body, a malleable medium, vs. a rigid, two-dimensional canvas; and some ‘design flaws’ are in fact intentional and exist simply outside the scope of my artistic intuition. I only know so much about drawing and art and shadows and light, which is to say: I know very little.
So, I’ve learned—and am still learning—to have faith. To trust. To trust the artist to do their job. To trust—and to be okay with—imperfection. Tattooing my body has been a great exercise in this regard. And it’s a one I don’t think I’ll stop anytime soon. :)
That’s all for now.
Peace,
-Taylor
TJH -- 05.20.2024
