1.3.2012
...that's my boy, Jack. Or 'Dukes' as i call him. I drew those with an ink pen on his arms upon request, yesterday ( i drew a rose on my left hand first, and he wanted his own!).
I know he admires my tattoos, and if i had to bet, i'd put it all on the fact that one day he too will have permanent armor placed on his body, just as his old man does. ...he may even decide to become a tattooer himself...and if i'm ultra lucky, one day he will be my apprentice.
Inside i feel incomplete, but on course. It's a satisfyingly-shitty fine-line to be walking. Responsibilites are met, i make more $$$ now than i have in years - but i work for EVERY penny, and it's tiring; worthwhile all the way, but fuck, man.
I think I'm ready to POP!!!
It's getting very difficult to hold my reserve in respect to tattooing. The other night, I was talking with a member of my family, a dude who has always dug my drawings, and when i told him i HAVE NOT even HELD a tattoo machine in my hands, his mouth literally dropped.
'Scratching'. It's what shop owners call a tattooer who does so out of their own home. Typically self taught i believe. With the volumes of knowledge available in terms of the techniques and mechanincs involved in tattooing, i can see how ANYBODY could become one. I have been ADAMANT in not doing this.
My lady told me that it's ok to follow in the footsteps of 'self made successful people.' I'm fighting that current with all my will...part of me wants to recede and literally take this into my own hands...
I've fought with every fucking fiber of my being NOT to order a machine, FUCK EM ALL, and like every other 'uneducated but talented' motherfucker in AMERICA who has done so before me; stuck two giant middle fingers up at a 'system' that as of yet HAS NOT allowed me completion. System. Heh. Funny fucking term for a 'craft' that remains one of the last great 'outlaw' jobs in this world.
I did ask my tattoo artist to work with me on completing my apprenticeship. He said "I will call you". Phone has yet to ring, AND i've booked again since then. He took my art, showed it to the co-shop owner; and for a life moment the stars aligned...i ended up in a great conversation, actually SWAPPING views of owl-work...made my heart beat fully.
I will book ONE MORE time with him, very, very soon, complete the roses on my sailor jerry forearm sleeve, and will downright level with him on what the hell is up. When i was in getting my owl tattooed last week, i looked up from my chair, and saw a PAINTING, hanging in my tattoo artist's station, that was rendered by my PAST co-master. It made my gut drop. I felt all the cosmos crushing in on me - like i was being 'nanny nanny poo pooed' in the most devilish of senses. Won't lie, i left the shop defeated, and am still feeling it. ...the rat fink action figure didn't help, either. (both of those items were NOT in the shop 3 weeks ago.) Paradox? Possibly.
I won't quit. It's not an option. I have to keep going, make sense of all this. I can honestly say that I'm confident in my drawing now, 100%. I'm taking commissions, getting $$$ for doing them, and that has its own level of satisfaction. I am slated to show at Tisane this fall again, and i'm planning epic artwork.
Still, i am unsettled in all of this. Have been for some time. I feel fucking black-balled. All i did was ask to speed up the process. How the hell is a 36 year old father, who holds a f/t and p/t job, able to do a traditional apprenticeship? Truth is he's not. I don't and never will have a sugar mamma, no trust fund, no cushion. My bills are expensive, and i must work. ...it is a gap that i can't seem to fill...
...And while the maintenance of a 'positive' attitude on all this comes and goes, i still have faith. Why, i don't know. When asked years back "Why are you doing this?", i responded with "Because I'm supposed to."
...tattoo artists have similar hands, u know.
...Back to f/t work today and bartending tonight, STILL sick. Good news is that i'm better today than i have been for the past week. Colds come and go, yes. But damn, they suuuuuck.
...working on the ink for Kerouac, coming along nicely...
Onward, bitches.
CHI.