But how are going to feel looking like that when your older?

Your Welcome Ladies...

England.

Home of London, The Clash, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Jude Law, Jack the Ripper,
Charles Dickens, Crumpets with Nutella, Soccer Hooligans, Elton John, and David (so hot it hurts to look at him directly) Beckham.

Progressive in it's own right.

 Long live the Queen.



However.



One thing is universal is a small town. Whether it's Catskill, New York, Stratford, New Hampshire, or
in this case... Shelly, UK.  They all have their charms, bars where everyone knows your name, small unique stores, old man that goes on a walk at the time every morning, and those darling people that still live under a rock.  Oh they mean well and are good hearted but their thoughts are... simple.  I came across one example the other day when Tom needed a hair cut and we went to the local barber.

The women was in her 50's with a modern hair cut and friendly and chatty enough. Then she found we were both tattoo artists and were both covered in ink. She stopped in mid-snip and just looked at us both through the refection in the mirror and asked the question I've been asked and warned my entire life, as most tattooed enthusiast have....

  "What are you going to look like when your older!? Don't you think you'll regret all those tattoos?"

A point well made.... However...

When I'm "Older" lets say 70's. I'm going to have a lot more going on.

 I'm going to have no knees left from years of running on worn out shoes.

I'm going to have about 3 extra asses from having no metabolism but still an addiction to cake.

My boobs are going to be in my pockets.

Most likely going to be bald from decades of bleaching and dying my hair.

Bad back from basically everything I've ever done in my life.

My face will most likely resemble a shar pei from so much exposure to sun from beaches and lifeguarding

Not to mention the usual kinks and issues that come from being old and to stubborn to die.

What I'm saying is, old fadesded tattoos will be the least of my worries. I'll just be happy I woke up alive that day. Not to mention what better way to be reminded of good times and memories than an image permanently on your skin forever? 

I'm covered in good tattoos in memory of lost loved ones, tattoos done by good friends, and a horrible one done by a rockstar. I have sleeve done by a bold British man in Manhattan and a leg piece done by a wonderful Canadian. Some people have scrap books or photo albums. I do too, it's just on my body and least likely to get ruined or lost over the years and believe me... I misplace shit.

So how will I look when I'm older? Fabulous. Tell me how beautiful you'll look in 60 years?

Live for Now. Have good stories!

-Casey

My Grandpa. The Tattooed Badass.

   Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far, away called Brooklyn, lived an unfiltered cigarette smoking man named Gordon. With only an 8th grade education and a obvious Brooklyn accent, one would assume him just another "working class" idiot. One would be wrong.

 He met his wife when he was still in Sunday school. She didn't know it yet, and refused to believe such rubbish but I can assure you in the end she would say "I do" and they would live out their lives together for over 60 years and die a day apart from each other, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

 The year was 1930-40 something, give or take. Befriended by a sharp-tongue, slightly rough around the edge tattoo artist, later to be recognized as a godfather of the tattoo culture, Charlie Wagoner, (he also would go on to perfect the electric coil tattooing machine originally invented by Sam O'Reilly and we haven't changed it much since), Gordon spent much of his spare time hanging in Charlie's tattoo parlor in the Bowery area of Manhattan which would later become famous for the boom of the American traditional style of tattooing. 

This was a time when you were considered a leper for having any kind of tattoo on you. These days guys are quick to get their necks, hands, and faces tattooed to show they are tough guys and women get infinity symbols and inspirational paragraphs slapped on them to prove they are deep and spiritual. Back then you were considered an outlaw if you had tattoos. So naturally, Gordon got several all over his arms and chest for .25 a piece. (The chest piece cost a $1, he did it in .25 installments). His most treasured tattoo was the name "Margie", his wife's name, though they weren't married yet. (She was still swimming in the sea of DeNile) He also rode a motorcycle which was completely unheard of. Basically, a father's worst nightmare for their daughter.

He became some comfortable and familiar with the tattoo community, he started to pursue an apprenticeship with Charlie Wagoner himself.  This even included purchasing his own tattoo starter kit which came with a tattoo machine and 4 basic ink colors. In the end he chose a different route and married the woman of his dreams and became the most epic dad and grandfather the world has ever seen. He passed at the age of 88 peacefully in his sleep, surrounded by his family in the house he purchased with Margie back in 1953.  Margie followed him in only a day later at the age of 90.

 He lived by a very simple phrase. (In a Brooklyn accent of course)

    "It's Simple. Ya. Do. What's. Right"

If everyone lived by that, would be really need any other laws?

I'm Not Dead Yet!

Well hello, hello, hello...

So its about 10pm at night here so most of you reading this are just getting out of work. Confused yet? But Casey, how is it 10pm in Florida? It should only be 5pm. You are so right. And points for knowing your own time zone!

I have been MIA on my blog for over a month now. I apologize, but rest assure, I am back.

In the past month I looked at the beautiful paradise beach world of Fort Myers, Florida, and being the un-adjusted person that I am said, "yeah, I'm done with this".

How many people who got the chance to work right on the beach, drawing on people, in a tropical climate would, say... "meh"? Me. That's who.

Florida was beautiful. It is also God's waiting room.... and I'm not dead yet!

British boyfriend's visa was up and it was put up or shut up time. So I bid fair well to the ocean
breeze and after a brief pit stop in New York to see friends and family I have been shipped to merry ole' England for what the "plan" is.. a month. But we all know how plans work with me so all I can say is, stay tuned.

But Casey, you have no money, no steady career, shouldn't you be working on that right now instead of going on these little adventures?

 Maybe you're right, but let me bring in some evidence to plead my case...

1)Tommy Brennan: boyfriend, good friend, epic love story, died at 24 of Cancer.

2) Stephan Braden: college boyfriend, died of an overdose at 19

3)Lisa Brandon : My mommy, died before she was 50 after battling depression for years

4)Brenda Mae : 2nd mommy, best friend's mom,  past in her 50's of Cancer

And most recently my Grandmother who was just fine and then within 3 days got sick and died out of the blue and believe me, she wasn't ready.

My point? Life is a privilege, not a right. I don't want to look back on my death bed and be sad I didn't see the world and lived my life because I working a shit jobs. Shit jobs will always be there, opportunities only knock once, or so they say. So I'm off, and I will be taking my readers with me.

Where will I end up? Guess we'll find out together. I know this much... I'm NOT DEAD YET!!!

New Hair Color, New Country

-Casey

Novel Preview

Some of you know that on top of building my tattoo career and moving all over the place and general madness, I've also been writing a novel. It has been taking me forever because the story keep changing directions and points of view. Well I'm back on track so here is a preview of the first two chapters... be nice... there may be some grammar errors it is still being edited.

 

 

Emerald Eyes

 

Chapter 1:

There she stood. Out of context she was just a women of average size and looks with a taste for whiskey and ripped jeans. That’s where you would make a big mistake. Where she stood was just outside the Memorial Arena, against a wall, smoking a cigarette she didn’t even enjoy. Hiding in the shadows, away from any eyes. To her, no one was of significance to speak to anyways, none but one, but that was no one she planned to see tonight, or ever. Her face was hardly distinguished as it was hidden with an army style hat and long, wild, brown hair. Even in the heat of August she was wearing a fitted black hoodie, the hood pulled over the hat. Snug, faded jeans ripped at the knees and faded orange converse sneakers. She looked like some kind of skater bum from the 1990s. Once again, you’d be wrong. She was untouchable. A goddess of music. She was Kase, the lead singer and founder of the band BasketKase, the country if not the world’s most successful band of this generation. Her real name was Cassandra which is pretty metal in itself but you’d have a death wish if you called her that to her face. She was beautiful as she was mean. That wild brunette hair cascaded all the way to her hips silhouetting all her wonderful curves. She stood 5’7 which is about average but on the rare occasion she put on heels, she was an amazon queen. The eyes however, is what made the package complete. They were hazel, sometimes. Other times they would go green, but on a rare day, they’d go purple. Bitch just wasn’t human.

She was one of those beautiful people that didn’t know, nor believe she was beautiful. Didn’t help she would just play down her look in jeans, t-shirts, hoodies, and bandanas. Never on stage did she rock anything “mini” which was a shame cause she had legs for days. Thousands of Magazines had made offers to show her off, this including Playboy. No such luck. Kase outright refused to have anything to do with the media. No interviews, no contests, no posing in magazines, not even a meet and greet, which is where I come in. I had the impossible mission of getting the only interview ever given by Kase. Not only this, I had to get her to reveal her most intimate secret. Clearly I was suicidal.   

Maybe I should explain a little better. Kase and her band came out of nowhere, like a tornado.  Just one day the radio blew up with her single “Emerald Eyes” and bang instant hit and every song she’s touched since has turned to gold. Being she’s so secretive and such a mystery, only makes the desire to know about her that much stronger. Anyone that’s gets a story with her would be a journalist god. Unfortunately her bite is worse than her bark. Sure the rest of BasketKase was all over the news and tabloids and some information about her can be leaked out from them but the real good, nitty gritty…nothing. What we do know is she’s famous for throwing people off the tour bus in the middle of nowhere. Not very hopeful for someone trying to approach her. All I could do was stare at her from a distance as she sipped at a bottle of whiskey and diet, yes diet, coke, humming to herself. My luck, she has a knife in her shoe. It was like observing a lion at the zoo… except no cages.

“So how do we want to do this?” asked a raspy voice.

Every hair on my arm stood straight up. How long had she known I’d been there?

            “I saw you there for about 10 minutes or so” she responded as if reading my mind. Maybe she did.

“Sorry. You seemed like you didn’t want to be disturbed” I stumbled out.

“I don’t.” she snapped.

Stupid thing to say, she wasn’t exactly a social butterfly. I didn’t know how I was going to play this one out. I wasn’t really a man with a plan most of the time. Or, ever. That’s when I blurted it out.

“Well that’s not a big surprise, thanks for at least not throwing a bottle at me”

She looked at me in such a way that even though her face was pretty much all shadows, I winced. Why am I so stupid? Why don’t I have a filter? I should know better. She stepped into the light and our eyes met and I was trapped. Like Medusa, she’d turn me into stone. I was frozen in fear and awe. This was Kase of BasketKase after all. She was completely insane but she was also a rockstar.

“You. Are a very stupid, stupid boy. Too dumb to be press. Press is always polite and walking on eggshells and kissing ass, but you’re not just an idiot fan either. Just an idiot. Luckily for you I have a good buzz on, walk away before you ruin it and I ruin you.”

That wasn’t a lot of bullshit. I knew she was telling the truth. I was failing already, I had to do something, anything.

“I’m Dez and I’m from Rock and Soul Magazine”

Ugh. Anything but that.

“Wrong answer!” She hissed and started to storm off.

“I think you’re scared. This whole tough girl, anti-press thing. I think you’re just scared we’ll make you look bad. Then what would you do?”

I wanted to punch myself in the throat. What am I doing!? I was ready to call it a night when something strange happened. She turned around and walk up to me and stopped inches from my face. Her eyes were hazel tonight. She smelled of whiskey, cigarettes, and a familiar perfume I couldn’t place. She raised her hand up and braced myself for a blow (Yes she was a girl but she wasn’t just any girl) but instead she brushed her hand against the side of my face and entwined her fingers in my hair, pulling us closer. I was scared and turned on at the same time. Was this happening? She leaned in, lips to my ear.

“Is that was you think?” she whispered.

Before I could respond or react she pulled me by the hair and dragged me back into the arena and backstage. Everything just whirled by in flash and I couldn’t really see anyone.  My main focus was walking without falling as she led me through an obstacle course of amps and equipment and staff workers.

“Oh Christ, not again Kase. Come on!” called out a male voice

“Shut up Damon, you just worry about your drum solo that should occupy your mind for a while” Kase snapped back.

What again? As if answering my mind again, we abruptly stopped at a door on the far end of the area. Completely deserted of the rabble of the show action. Quickly she flew open the door and shoved me in. I tripped over a mop bucket and fell right on my ass and just looked up at her. She shoved a bottle of whiskey into my arms, don’t ask me from where.

“You got balls so I’ll make you a little deal.  Stay here and drink this entire bottle, every drop, by the time I’m done with my set and we’ll see what happens. The door won’t be locked, you can leave on your own free will at any time”

With that she gave an evil, cold smile and slammed the door shut. I was left in the dark with own decisions. I looked at the completely full bottle, this would probably kill me. Well, all or nothing I thought. I cracked open the bottle and let it pour down my throat.

Chapter 3:

“Bro? You dead?”

I felt something nudge my limp body. Was I dead?

“Shit Kase, I think you killed him” said the voice again.

“Don’t be fucking retarded, he’s breathing. Sort of” snapped the familiar voice of Kase

“Bottle is empty. I’m kind of impressed. Dude is a trooper” added a third voice.

That’s when the memories flooded back. Kase outside, Kase dragging me into a closet, whiskey bottle… I opened my eyes. The light pouring into the dark closet about blinded me and brought attention to the terrible pulsing in my head and I groaned.

“Fuck Kase, do you think this is funny?” came a forth voice.

“Well I didn’t think he’d actually do it! No one has before! He must really be touched in the head or something” Kase snapped again.

I slowly opened my eyes again, allowing them to adjust to the light and the audience facing me. Standing over me was the most successful band in the world. A surprised singer, amused bass and guitar players, and a pissed off drummer.

People would kill for the opportunity to meet them all in one shot and here I was laying in my own puke unable to make words. If I was at all there, I’d probably be embarrassed.

“God damn dude, you reek” chuckles Jeff, the lead guitar player.

Now I’m embarrassed.

Kase steps forward with an annoyed sigh.

“Well my plan was to just leave you here but Damon thinks I should give you a shot. You’ve been touched my an angel because normally we’re on the same page but apparently someone is going soft on me”

Well thank you Damon, I thought, though being I’d never met the guy I don’t know why he would take my side. He was the drummer of BasketKase and was even more low-key and mysterious than Kase.

“Yeah whatever Kase, I’m just saying we’ve been doing this for 10 year maybe it’s time. I got a good feeling about this kid, he’s not like most press. Might as well be him” Damon said.

He looked exhausted and was covered in sweat. They must have just gotten done with the show.

“So when he fucks us all over, I can fire you right?” grumbled Kase

Damon just sighed, rolled his eyes, and rubbed his temples.

“Yeah sure Kase, whatever”

Jeff burst out laughing and smacked his hands together which sounded like thunder in my ears.

“Well shit! This tour just got fucking fun!” he bellowed.

All I could do was groan.                                                                                             

Wait.

Tour?

Then everything went dark.

It Came From Hell.

For the most part I love my job.  %95 of the people I tattoo are pleasant, nice, lovely people with great stories. Usually.. then there is that one asshole...

A few weeks ago a loud, laid back, Latin couple from Miami came into my shop. The guy, we'll call him Kaken, wanted a huge pirate ship that would cover his side and half of his stomach. They seemed cool enough and being really into the old school tattoo style, I was thrilled at the opportunity to do a pirate ship with a mermaid.

When I told them the price for a custom piece that huge the woman about fell over, but Kraken understood, as long as it was "big!". I told them I only start drawing when I get a deposit, they said they'd stop in later, but were never seen again... bummer.

Until
Yesterday...

Friday Kraken called to say they would be in the area this weekend and he wanted a tribal octopus tattoo. He texted me the design and I gave a very low price. They wanted it done that night at around 11pm but settled for Saturday at 2pm. His girlfriend, we'll call her Banshee, wanted a seahorse. I gave them a way to low price that my boss will never forgive me for.

At 2pm on the dot, they arrive. They were in good spirits and I could tell they had consumed a drink or two but nothing extreme, and I myself have been guilty of having a drink before a tattoo so didn't worry about it.  We did the paper work and it was go time. Kraken ended up wanting the design way bigger than expected and wanted it on his ribs... we've talked about the ribs and how much they suck before. A smart artist would have raised the price. I made a bone-head move. I regret that now.

So I placed the stencil on and he lays on bed and we begin... that's when shit got out of control.


He went from buzzed grown-up to "insta-wasted".

He started making animal noises and drooling, yes drooling.

He kept moving and shifting, while I was in mid-tattooing, into positions physically impossible to tattoo him in. When I would tell him to he needed to stop moving and to get back in the position I put him in, he'd just ignore me. Banshee, who you could tell was embarrassed but trying to play it off as no big thing, became my interpreter.

At some point he actually took off his pants and was just standing there in his boxer briefs. Well, trying to stand there, more like... wobble.

He almost went outside and took a cigarette break half naked. He took pee breaks with the bathroom door wide open. I'd like to inform readers that my shop is attached to a beach gift shop where various forms of population are in there and had to witness this. 

On top of all of this movement and uncooperativeness, he kept trying to touch me. Any normal women would have flipped watching their man do this but Banshee just kept making excuses for him. Finally I had enough and told him he was had gotten enough as he could handle for the day as he was bleeding like a murder victim and had been asking for about an hour if we were done.

I can honestly tell you his tattoo was shit. Terrible. Half done, bad lining, HORRIBLE. A perfect contestant for Tattoo Nightmares. I am not ashamed. After the stress he put me through and the disrespect he had on me, the shop, and the general public, he deserves what he gets.

Where was my boss in all of this? He didn't back me up at all. He's not a tattoo artist or have any knowledge of the industry, he is a business man and I am just a pawn in his money making. Needless to say, this is not my long term career shop.

Banshee texted me this morning asking if I would complete Kraken's tattoo in 2 weeks when they come back... I have not responded yet.

Lesson of the day: Don't tattoo drunk people. Don't let anyone disrespect you. You are an artist, not someone's bitch.

Love yourself,

-Casey

5 Simple Ways to Prevent Your Customers from Killing You

 There are days I hate everyone.

I see customers coming and I already want to tell them to piss off I don't feel like doing your damn kids names in script come back to me with an original thought.... We're all guilty.

We're guilty of giving attitude, being burnt out, strung out, and worried if we're going to make rent


when the tattooing is going slow. Trust me I get it. However I have found that sometimes you need to check yourself because that same attitude will scare people off and make your problems that much worse.

With that being said, I brought back the count down that'll hopefully benefit my fellow artists and save you from being that stereotypical douche bag artist no one wants to deal with...



1. Eat.
I know it doesn't sound like something that would tie into tattooing but I assure you, it does. Sometimes you get wrapped up into a tattoo that takes a few hours and you forget to eat. When your hungry your irritable, unmotivated, and unfocused. Keep some granola bars or nuts in your bag. I'm a big fan of Naked and Bolthouse brand smoothies cause you can pound them down quick, get some nutrients and protein, and keep moving. It sounds like a Snickers commercial but seriously, eat. You get douchey when your hungry.






2. Be Persuasive and Compromise.
Being tattoo artist, we are naturally creative people. The general public is not. Day after day you get thrown ideas you find stupid and limiting to what you can really do and you can get frustrated. Try talking to the client. Clients come in with a basic idea without thinking of the possibilities and if you start throwing out some cool things while still going with their original idea you'll be surprised how easy they can be convinced. Me and my boyfriend have this issue all the time. We are American traditional artist... in Florida. A state that still hasn't gotten past the tribal fad. So when they come in wanting roses and patriotic tattoos we can sometimes talk them into getting old school roses and traditional eagles and now we're all happy. Just make sure to keep their original idea in mind. Don't trying to force a 50 year old school teacher into getting a Bio-mech sleeve when all she wanted was a butterfly on her ankle.




3. Be Excellent to Yourself.
Take care of yourself. This is closely linked to the eating tip. When you feel good you are a better
person all the way around. This is not rocket science. I've always been into fitness, being in a profession where you sit all day can be rough on the body. Eat right, try to get a exercise in, do yoga, go for a walk during down time. I'm not saying you need to go out and buy P90X but how about don't get wasted every night and have to work hung over the next day? Drink water so your not getting headaches. Get enough sleep at night. Do you!






4. Don't be That Guy... (or girl)
I can tell you a specific time I worked in a shop as a counter girl where one of the artists who was supposed to be the big rockstar artist, went across the street to a local bar, got hammered, and came back and pass out snoring in the waiting area. 30 minutes later a group of giggly college girls came in looking to get matching sorority tattoos and were terrified seeing this large, tattooed, beared mad just pass the fuck out in the middle of the room... Don't be that guy. Just because you are a tattoo artist does not mean you have to live the "tattoo life style".  You know what happens to those guys? They get fired. They get fired, or they lose their shop because they get wrapped up in their habit and blow all their money and can't pay the bills. Party, enjoy life, it's yours for the taking, but have some control. We're grown ups now, lets act like it.



5. GOLDEN RULE: Don't Pre-Judge.
My parents didn't get their first tattoos until they were in their 40's so they were not exactly tattoo gurus when they first walked into a shop. My dad uses the word "tat" that sounds like nails on a chalk board to me. However, they are cool people, and very easy going and I can promise you they tip their artists every time. (YOU BETTER BE FATHER!!) What I'm saying is, don't roll your eyes when you see someone come in. You don't know a thing about them yet. I can tell you I'm so guilty of this myself. Girls that looked like total anal bitches that ended up being super easy going and friendly. Men that
act a little weird and off and then you find out they are army veterans that took a bullet for this country and end up tipping you $40 just for listening to them and being friendly while you worked. There was a women once I was scared to tattoo because she was crying not that long ago over some guy and I thought she was going to be a psycho. She was a sweetheart and loved my tattoo and recommended me to all her friends.



Remember. You're being paid to draw on people. That's your life. You don't have to wear a uniform, or get up at 6am to go to work, or watching a training video. Yes you have to deal with the public but you get to hurt them for hours, just like you dreamed of when you worked in that fast food restaurant.

Party on Dudes and Be Excellent to Each Other...

-Casey

Rib Tattoos Will Kick. Your. Ass.

My mother gave me a lot of good advice over the years. Maybe not the normal kind, but very useful and realistic for modern life. One of them was simple

 "Tequila will kick. your. ass."

... and she was right, however, she never got a tattoo on the ribs. (Had she not passed away early I wouldn't have put it past her though)

Back in 2008 someone very dear to me passed away of cancer. I was shattered. I, to this day, have never felt that kind of pain and I hope to never again. My way of grieving has always been getting a tattoo in their memory and this was no different.

I went to the local tattoo artist in the town I lived in at the time. He was considered a rock star probably cause he was the only artist in town and we didn't have much to compare. I gave him the option of doing a picture of my lost beloved or doing a solid black motorcycle. He picked, in complete confidence, the portrait. He said he'd nail it.... he didn't. It even won "Worst Tattoo" at the Miami Tattoo Convention
this year.

After years with this disaster that was basically an insult to Tommy (the one who passed), Me, our life together, and the art of tattooing in general, I decided to finally cover it up. My boyfriend is an AMAZING artist and created a beautiful design and yesterday we started it with the line work.

... that's when things got out of control.

Now let me just say I have a full sleeve that I sat 5-6 hour sessions for. I have a one on my foot, and inside my upper thigh. I sat like a champ for all these, my artist's wife believed I wasn't human.

Needless to say... I ain't no punk bitch. :-P

When I had gotten my side tattoo back in 2008 I didn't understand what the big hub-bub was about. It hurt sure, but nothing I couldn't handle. Little did I know...

Where I got it barely kissed the rib cage, that was then, this was now.

We laid on the stencil and hit it perfect the first time, then it was go time. We decided to hit the most sensitive area first to get it out of the way. The minute he put needle to skin, I knew I was fucked.

People, I can't explain the pain. It was... bad. I panicked. I was terrified this was the pain I was going to be enduring for hours and I.. Casey Brandon.. tattoo artist and enthusiast... the artist with "Yes it hurts man up" written in my station.... cried.

 I didn't just cry. I WEEPED. Full on tears and the whole show. My poor boyfriend, who thankfully, does not take joy in giving me pain, stopped and asked if he should keep going. I snapped at him like
the exorcist screaming "Yes! Just keep going and get it over with!"

You could see the upset in his own face making his girlfriend cry in pain he was inflicting but he ignored my whimpers and 3.5 hours later we had a beautiful lined layout.

So I warn you, I don't care what you've had. Listen to the warnings, listen to the people...

 Rib Tattoos. Will. Kick. Your. Ass.

Be Safe. Be Smart. Be Free.

-Casey

Tattoo Shop Threesome... Welcome to my Friday.

Ok so a lot of my posts lately have been serious, cynical and borderline negative. I'm a New Yorker, it's not my fault. However, I figured we were all due for a laugh so let me tell you about last Friday...

Friday Evening. 7.26.13

Newly turned 18 year old kid, we'll call him *Brad, comes in for his first tattoo. He's down here for a wedding so his entire family (including grandparents who laugh at him through the window) come down to witness this big moment. I'm also excited. Brad has been coming in all week looking at options and nailing down the appointment so it's my delight to finally get to put this scorpion on him. (I can't judge his choice, I picked a fairy for my first)

15 Minutes later....

I had just got the line work done and was about to start on shading. When "they" come in...

We'll call them Frank, Magenta, and Columbia.

Frank is a middle aged, over weight man with a white goatee, swim trunks, no shirt.

Magenta is his middle aged wife, equally round, thankfully wearing a swim top and shorts.

Columbia is a slim, attractive, Columbian woman in her 30's who is wearing a bikini top, shorts, and a fedora with blinking lights on it.

Frank and Magenta sit in the two seats in the waiting area and Columbia starts to grind and make out with both of them...

KEEP IN MIND this 18 year old, already nervous and in pain, is witnessing all this, with his entire family.... Mom is MORTIFIED. 

At this time, My boss-lady, we'll call her Janet, comes in and makes sure the riff-raff are at least going to be paying customers. I was hoping we could kick them out. Unfortunately they weren't going anywhere and wanted tattoos.

Soon after...
I finish up Brad's tattoo and he's happy with it. (thank god). He thanks me and GIVES ME A TIP, and is off on his way. Mom, not as pleased.

Finally I get to the circus before me. During this time all three of them have been making out with each other, rubbing, touching, and lap dancing. I'm just glad I had a strong stomach.

WHILE THIS IS GOING ON...

a group of drunk, college aged, guys are rooting and cheering on this floor show from outside while
also taking pictures.

A family actually comes into the shop, kids in tow, to have a better view.

What do they want?
Magenta wants Columbia's lip print on her.
Columbia wants Magenta's lip print on her
Frank wants BOTH Magenta and Columbia's lip prints on him...

.... OK

Janet pulls me aside and whispers to me

 "They are drunk, they don't care, try to get them to pay $150 per custom lip tattoo. If they freak out being it down slowly"

I about fall on the floor. There is no way these people are going to pay that amount for a tattoo that takes like 10mins to do. I went for it because frankly, it was late and I wanted to go home and figured they'd flip and leave.... they didn't.

They paid the price with no argument.

And away we go!

Columbia went first. She got Magenta's lip print, in rainbow colors, tattooed on her hip. She squirmed but proceeded to make out with Magenta while I tattooed...

Then it was Magenta's turn. She got Columbia's lips in basic red, on her rather aged breast. She took
it better but that might be because she had her hand down Columbia's pants...

Finally it was Frank's turn. He got both of their lips over his nipple.. need I say more.

Once they were all done, wrapped up, and happy as shit, they tipped me and time warped out of there to do GOD KNOWS WHAT...

In the end, I didn't leave the shop til Midnight but with a good size wad in my bag and memories I hope to repress forever...

Don't Dream It, Be It.

-Casey

12 Ways to Prevent Your Tattoo Artist From Killing You.

 I used to wonder why tattoo artist always had an attitude. In my mind I was like

"Dude. You draw on people for a living, its not that serious, get happy!"

I'm actually scared to approach artists at conventions most of the time because there is a large group that are arrogant and can't be bothered dealing with the public. I used to think they just thought they were better than me. In some cases this is true but as I myself have come into the tattoo profession I've come to notice certain habits and patterns that are irritating as fuck and the more and more people you deal with the more you actually dread them and imagine painful things happening to them.

So I've come up with a survival plan for you tattoo loving customers. Artists feel free to chime in and add...



1) Do Not Haggle.
     A tattoo shop is not a flee market, auction, or garage sale. Most shops have a stone cold minimum, deal with it. You are paying for ART to be put on your skin FOREVER. Is that really something you want to go cheap on? Sure there may be some sketchy artist out there that will do your grandma's portrait for $100 but now you're messing with quality and your health and safety. There are some things you can bargain with, a process of needles going into your skin by human hand... not so much. Pay the price or thank the artist politely and leave and go SAVE UP THE MONEY FOR A GOOD TATTOO.


2) Do Not Ask Vague Questions Like "How much are your tattoos?"
    Every tattoo is different and unique. A tattoo can vary in price depending on size, detail, color, placement, ect. A rose of the same size could cost $100 if its black and grey to $400 is you want it realistic with water droplets and the whole show. Know what you want and ask for a ballpark figure on the piece your thinking. Ask a stupid question, get a stupid response. I promise.

3) It is not a tattoo "gun", it is a tattoo "machine"
  Though some artist probably would love it if their machines shot bullets, even rubber ones, they sadly do not. If you walk in calling it a machine you will sound more well informed and get more respect from your artist. (until you piss them off wanting "tiny name on my wrist".. we'll get to that later)

4) Tip. Your. Damn. Artist.
  They just sat there for hours creating beautiful art, custom to your requests, and listened to you talk about your entire life and problems and kids and relationships. For god sakes, tip them. They are preforming a service just like a bartender, waitress, hair dresser, ect (and you better be tipping these people too!) It really shows gratitude and after they pay their half to shop management or booth rent, that little extra is really nice.

5) Leave the kids at home.
 Most shops have signs right on them saying "No Children" but apparently not everyone can read or think they are some kind of exception. In a shop people have a lot of body parts exposed, there is a lot of "grown-up" talk going on, and its just not a good environment for kids, nor should it be. We are not babysitters, we are tattoo artist. Not to mention there are a lot of blood borne pathogens flying around and cleaning supplies and sharp things that are not safe for children to be around. On top of all of this, while we are concentrating on making you're skin beautiful it becomes rather hard when there is a child running, screaming, demanding, bored, whining, ect... get a sitter, call grandma, leave them at a kennel, I don't care..

6) Yes it Hurts. Man Up.
  I actually have that exact phrase written on my drawers in my station. It hurts. Every body part that is going to be touched by tattoo needles is going to hurt, so don't bother asking. Yes, its going to suck. Get over it. And once we start, it's go time. A little whimper or groan is understandable but save the drama and crying and 28 breaks for someone with the time. We understand they hurt but you paid for it, you're getting it. We don't need a floor show.

7) Go big or Go Home.
   Ok. I understand people have jobs and can't all have sleeves and chest pieces and back pieces. Maybe its not you're style, I totally understand. But don't come in with some big, epic, image and ask for it to get shrunk down to a quarter. It'll look like shit. Over time tattoos do bleed out slightly and if you have lettering to small its going to look like... crap. I know this personally, I have writing on the side of my foot that looks like a doily now. So either let the piece be the size it needs to be to look right or get something else. We're not trying to screw you out of money, we're making sure we send you out with work that actually looks good, it'll make us look good.

8) Get Creative.
  Enough with the name tattoos. Seriously. I know an artist that flat out doesn't do names what so ever. He believes it's more meaningful to get something that symbolizes the person than just some lame script. Not to mention half those names are lovers that your just going to have to get covered up. If you REALLY must have a name, try incorporating it with something meaningful. My mother was really into animals so when she passed instead of getting "mom" written in script I got paw prints running across my foot.. and lettering you can't read anymore... see how that whole lettering thing isn't always a good idea? Get Creative.


9) Commit.
   No you don't have to date you're artist. But if they started it, they should finish it. Unless they die, or get arrested (it happens), or leave the area, don't bounce around from artist to artist for a better deal. Most artists won't step on another one's work anyway. Also if you make an appointment, GO
TO IT. You just blocked out time that artist could be making money to work on you. Not just the actually tattoo time but drawing time as well. Go to you're appointment. The deposit helps but it doesn't make up for all the time lost when you bail.

10) Get Fresssssshhhhh...
   Wash. Your. Ass. Yes, that's right. Take a shower, put on some deo, brush your teeth, you know the drill. We are working very closely with you body and its just common decency to clean yourself up a bit before you come in. I'm not saying get your hair did and get a mani-pedi. If your getting a foot tattoo, don't go right after the gym. Hose off.

11) No ID? Sucks for you.
  I don't care if you look like Santa Clause. We know MOST people are over 18 that come in. We believe you. However the Health Dept. comes in and checks for paperwork and EVERYONE most have their ID scanned or its lights out for the shop. We are not trying to be assholes we just want to keep our jobs. Get your ID. Leave the attitude. This leads to the final tip...



12)NO UNDERAGERS.
 The general rule of shops is 18 and up. Some states allow 17 year olds to be tattooed with written parental consent. Some. Mine doesn't. If you're 14, 15, 16, I don't care what you're parents say, it's not going to happen. Don't rush to grow up, trust me, your time will come.





I love most of my clients. I love their stories and we have a good time. I wouldn't dare get the crap they want on me but it's their body and they love it. However for every 1 awesome client I get there are at least 5 idiots. Don't be that guy.

Wear Sunscreen!

-Casey

Why No I will not tattoo your child...

When I was 12 I wanted "Bitch" tattooed across my upper back in old English font.

When I was 14 I wanted a dolphin lower back tattoo. (It was the 90's and they were super in)

When I was 17 a tattoo artist never checked my ID and I managed to get a fairy tattooed on my back.

At 27 I'm hoping to cover up that fairy soon.

What's my point?

Kids don't know shit.

They shouldn't, they are kids. Teenagers are still kids, they just think they are grown. Look back at your pre-teen and teenage pics. What's going on with that hair? Did you seriously listen to Hanson? (I did). We change out minds constantly and the younger you are the less likely you are at making good choices.

In my junior and senior year of high school fellow classmates of mine started getting tattoos. I'm not talking about the seniors that had just turned 18, I'm talking the 16, 17, and even 15 year old students. Naturally at that time we thought it was cool as fuck but now as an adult (sort of), and a tattoo artist, I just want to go to that artist and be like "Dude, seriously? Was business that bad? Were you that desperate?"

Most of those tattoos are regretted and covered up now. Why? CAUSE WE WERE KIDS!

Of course we're going to try to get tattoos and sneak alcohol and take our dad's car in the middle of the night (Shout to Kim!) and go joyriding. Teenagers, if the chance is there, they're going to take it. It's the job of parents and adults to guide and prevent huge mistakes and give life lessons to those wild and crazy bastards.

In the past 2 weeks working on the beach I have been asked by 4 PARENTS if I would tattoo their 15, 16, and even a 14 year old. I keep waiting for them to turn around and burst out "PSYCH! Just kidding!"... but they don't.

When I say no, sorry, I don't tattoo children. They storm out saying that they will go somewhere else that will. What's sad is, someone will. I'm not ok with that but its out of my control, but I can control is myself.

I haven't been tattooing very long. My work is decent but its not mind blowing and there is a lot of growth. I know this. People will say what they want about my work I have lovers and haters. Such is


life. But I will NEVER be labeled as the artist that tattoos kids. Ever.

If you're a parent that wants your kid to be tattooed as a teenager... you're an ass. That is all.

Forever growing...

-Casey

New York State of Mind

 Sorry it's been a while since I posted but as I look at it, its a blog, not a diary.

Its better I write when something is strong on my mind, than just mindless filler. I don't really think all 5 people that read this really mind anyway. :-P

So lately I've been in a little bit of a gloom. How you ask? As my best friend stated last week...

"You work on the beach, you have pink hair, and a hot British boyfriend! Your life is awesome!"

I can't really argue with her on that, my life is definitely on a high peak from past years. I wake up to palm trees and sunshine, drive over a gulf to get to work (or bay, or cape, or whatever the hell it is. Large thing of water with salt that's not ocean.), kiss my amazing man good bye as he goes off to work, and then go my shop, right across the street from the ocean, to tattoo some pretty awesome people everyday...

Don't hate me, I'll explain my gloom!

Did you hear what was missing in there?

How about music. How about friends. How about family. How about culture.

For the first month or so, it was fun. Ocean, beach, margaritas, all I could do was listen to Bob Marley everyday in my car. However, we are who we are. It didn't take long after that for me to get frustrated I can't run outside without dying from the heat and getting eaten by the bugs, the battle with my waistline due to all the exotic drinks, and the itch of loneliness that comes from not being able to confide in a girlfriend over some wine or a bad movie.

Then it happened. I caught myself rocking out to my classic punk rock to work, something I haven't done since I first came to Florida in April.

That's the sign right there.

Put me anywhere but it will never change the fact that I'm a brash, loud, punk rock loving, rude and tattooed, New York girl. I like running around on 100 cups of coffee, I like being negative, I like speedy results, I like honking my horn, I MISS MY FUCKING DOC MARTENS! (It's to hot to wear those here, or any other form of boot) And I miss not having to filter my sarcasm and overall personality as to not scare the Floridians.

I miss hole in the wall shit places with amazing food, or music, or at least cheap drinks. I miss my pushy, over bearing aunt, my unpredictable, sometimes frustrating but always good hearted father, my spacey but always loyal good friends, and walking out of my apartment to 3 tattoo shops, 2 coffee shops, a tea and vegan café, 5 bars, 2 head shops, and a park.

Florida is beautiful. It's paradise. But not everything that glitters is gold and there is a reason people come here to vacation for a few weeks, shop, swim, drink, and go home.

So this was sort of a rant blog. Hey, you read it, that's' you problem. For now I will enjoy the ocean view, sand between my toes, and cheap rent.... why I rock out to the Ramones.

Love Your Self. Get more Pets. Make Less Kids.

-Casey

 P.S. No I'm not running off to New York and leaving my wonderful Brit behind! You don't find a precious gem and throw it in the dumpster! <3 <3 <3

 

Tattoo School Vs. Apprenticeship, 20 Years Experience Vs. Talent and Drive

Ok. A disclaimer, because is this is going to get controversial...

 I have several friends in the tattoo industry. All of them are very talented and MOST of them very supportive of what I'm doing. I respect them all. I don't write this as an attack on any particular artist, this is all very "in general"... sort of.

Before I start I would like to show you this as to keep my own self humble and to prove that I don't think I am some rock star, badass tattoo artist that knows everything....

This is my first tattoo I ever did on a person. Yeah...





As you can see, bad lining, bad lettering, flat color, and let's not even go there with the lock heart. God bless this girl for letting me learn on her, thank go there are amazing cover-up artists out there.. Now.. Lets get into it..

TATTOO SCHOOL

I went to tattoo school. I fucking admit it. And guess what, my life has completely changed since then. I hunted, begged, borrowed, and practically stole for YEARS for an apprenticeship, and no one would take me. They were busy, they didn't like dealing with it, they didn't want to train competition, whatever.  They all had their reasons but as the years went by my life was at a stand still waiting for things to happen.

Tattoo school is a 4 letter word in the industry, believe me, I worked in a shop as counter girl, I know what they say. It's hated so much it took me 2 years to actually give it a shot. Ya know what, here is the low-down on the schools....

*Argument: "You can't learn to tattoo in two weeks!!!"
    TRUE. You can't. And the school never claims that you can. They give you the basic fundamentals to get you going but then it's up to YOU to further you're training. They offer more advanced classes, or maybe you have a few brave friends that are more than willing to let you fuck up on them til you get it right, or it could even help you better your chances of a respectable artist taking you under their wing and giving you more skills. You can not learn to be a master artist in 2 weeks, but it can get the ball rolling.

*Argument: "It's unclean! It's a scam! It's a "Scratcher Factory!"
    FALSE. First of all, I know A LOT of artist that started out just buying a machine on their own and learning on their people. My ex of 3 years if a walking example of letting his best buddy at the time completely fuck him up experimenting until he got it right. While this is going on, these "budding artists" are making their own needles, incorrectly, not being safe, and uneducated on cleanliness necessary for this craft.

At the school, everything is monitored by the health department and routinely checked as well as you have award winning artists watching YOUR EVERY MOVE helping you become a better artist while also keeping you canvases safe and disease free. No one likes diseases. No to mention if you do screw up, they teach you how to fix these mess-ups. They aren't scratchers. They are students.

*Argument: "An Apprenticeship is the only way to learn!"
    FALSE: Why this method is great if you have a respectable artist that is actually going to teach you and help you in your career, many people out there are just out to scam you. They make you pay them a crap load of money then have you scrub tubes, and do a lot of bitch work, never teaching you anything for a year until you quite and they keep your money. Now I'm not saying you shouldn't have to do bitch work. You absolutely should. However you should also be learning, not just be a bitch. Also they can be retarded expensive.

An artist in my city at the time wanted $8,000. 8 fucking grand. No disrespect to this artist, he is VERY talented, and I understand a few grand is asked sometimes to cover equipment, but.. come on. Most artists, good ones anyway, don't have 8 grand just chilling in savings. Maybe they save up a few grand but it's rare for anyone to have that kind of sum. That's if you can even find someone that will do it. Most artists, the good ones, want nothing to do with teaching people. They are sick of shitty artists taking over their block and they don't want anymore competition. And if you're a girl, you're really fucked. So people are turning to buying their own stuff on line and butchering people, unsafely, on their own.

So in summary of that argument, Tattoo School is not evil. It's brilliant. Every other trade has courses and training and schools, so why not tattooing? Here is an example of a student's work ... let's be real, it's better than most local artists I've dealt with...

 Now just something to back up my tattoo school argument, here is a tattoo from someone who's been doing it for 20 plus years, and is considered a rock star in his small town as far as tattooing.. oh yeah, this is the award he won for it in Miami this year..

 

 

 

 

Yeah. No apprenticeship. No schooling. Just practicing on his buddies and my dead boyfriend will be forever memorialized with scratchy lines, flat, patchy color and he's MISSING A FUCKING FOOT.

 

Now here is an example from an artist who's only been doing this for a little over 5 years...

 

My point? Though experience is very important, it doesn't mean shit if you don't have drive and heart. You can slap some ink on someone for a century and never grow if you don't put in the effort, drive, and perseverance. ALSO STAY OFF THE FUCKING DRUGS!

 

All these small town artist and small city artists are so quick to hate on other people's work and methods. They are the ones you are scared to talk to in the shop or conventions. They are the ones with the chips on their shoulder, believing they are better than everyone cause they get to draw on people for a living.

 

Guess what? Mike DeVries, Nikko Hurtado, Kat Von D, THEY DON'T GIVE A FUCK.

 

Mike Devries and Big Gus (best known for being on Tattoo Nightmares) are the nicest guys you'll meet and will answer any questions you have.

 

Kat has been noted for SUPPORTING tattoo schools.

 

Most of them had to learn in basements scratching on people and now they are amazing so they don't give a fuck how people get there. Plus they are amazing and know most people won't ever touch the level they are at so why be a dick?

 

That's my view on schools. Don't be so quick to judge and when picking an artist, RESEARCH. If they are asshole, fuck'm, go somewhere else. I don't care what they're reputation is, if you don't like what you see, go somewhere til you do.

 

Off my soapbox. Stay cool out there Fort Myers, it's a scorcher!!!