(no subject)

[tahnijnikitins]

First and foremost, I think tattoos are fucking awesome. Not all tattoos of course - some win a fail stamp, either because of the subject matter of the tattoo or poor artistry. Though I have to be honest - I've seen very, very few tattoos which I would say blow on the poor artistry basis.

Tattoo artists are kind of fucking epic. My mom and I were actually having this discussing last night, as I went in and got my bat shaded this morning before work. Tattoo artists have to be really good, because there's not a whole lot of margin for error. And if a mistake is made, you have to be pretty damn good to be able to fix it without the ability to go back and erase it. As an artist (by hobby) I am personally incapable of working without an eraser - it's why I'm always terrified of inking my drawings. For that reason, I would never be able to be a tattoo artist. With a great deal of practice, sure, and of course these guys through schooling for their profession, but I don't think any amount of schooling can really prepare a person for creating a piece of artwork on a canvas of flesh which bleeds, sweats, twitches etc. I am incredibly impressed with tattoo artists, and though it's highly unlikely that, as a tattoo artist, you would ever be widely considered "one of the greats," I tend to think that a good tattoo artist can be right up there with the greats.

On another note, I think it would kind of strange to be a tattoo artist. But, this is coming from me, with my mild obsession with immortality through the survival of my work and remembrance of my name. I have no problem admitting that this is one of the reasons I want to be a(n at least moderately) successful writer. But, that said...as a tattoo artist, you are creating a piece of artwork which 1) isn't coming from the depths of your own mind, but from someone else and 2) is created upon a canvas which lasts only as long as the life in the body lasts. Once the body dies it'll either be cremated, or buried where it will decompose (in some capacity, depending on the type of burial) and that piece of work will be gone. Unless you're epic like the ice mummy and somehow your skin is preserved and your body is later dug up by archeologists and studied (which I also think about, because I am weird). So as a tattoo artist, your canvas and your work will eventually die and decompose. It's permanent, but only as permanent as life itself.

My mom said I was weird when I told her this. She would have trouble being a tattoo artist knowing that as she was creating the art on the person they were in some degree of pain.

The pain. It was weird, getting my tattoo this morning, I noticed there were what seemed to be two layers of pain, physically, kind of laying on top of each other. Maybe one of them wasn't so much pain as it was just kind of a sensation next to the sensation of pain, I don't know - but anyway. I know the needle wasn't actually grinding against my skull, but the bottom layer of pain kind of felt like that's exactly what was happening. The needle was right next to my ear, see, and I could hear what it was doing. I know the sound of it contributed to the sensation itself, because there's this definite grinding sound, like if you carve something into a stone. On top of that sensation/sound was the less distinct feeling of the needle puncturing the skin, over and over again to the point that it basically equates to the feeling of being cut with a razor. That one...I guess it seemed a little more distant, a little more soft...a little fleshier.

This time around hurt more than the last time, which I was expecting, considering that shading involves more work on a concentrated area than does line work. I had a bit more trouble getting into the zone than I did last time, and one shoulder ended up knotted as fuck, but it still wasn't too terrible. Braces and the whole condensed head gear inside my mouth was still a whole hell of a lot worse than the pain of getting a tattoo.

I am so tired, but I am also still running on a pretty nice endorphin high. ^.^

When I get home from work (yes, I have time to write this at work...how pathetic is that?) there shall be pictures of the shaded bat.