Why I Don't Like Tattoo Artists.

About a year ago I was down at my favorite shop in Manhattan getting work done on my sleeve and got talking to another artist at the shop. He told me he didn't like tattoo artist and avoided them as much as possible and that most of his friends were not in the field.

At the time I thought this was insane. Why wouldn't you want as many friends as possible in your
field? Makes networking a lot easier and if you ever are in a bind and in need of a job, it's good to know people. The tattoo world is all about word of mouth.

I never forgot that statement until the other day when I was at a party chatting up with new people who were naturally interested in what I do for a living.  That's when a big bear of a man chimed in that he too, did tattoos.

My instant reaction in my head.... "Of fucking course your do."

I had to pause and think about why I would react that way.

Then I realized... I don't like tattoo artists either... here's why...

1) Everything is a pissing contest.
As soon as they run into you they want to see your work and know where you work and your experience. This dude actually made his girlfriend expose all her tattoos right there at the party to prove he's good. (He's not)

2)Drama, Drama, Drama...
I can't tell you how many shops close because the artist owning it pissed away all his money on drugs
and drinking. That goes for artists who get fired and hop from shop to shop for the same reasons. Then you got the dirt bags that steal their fellow employee's clients and supplies.  Cut throat industry or not, there is a level of ethics that one should consider.

3) If you're not as good them... you're a scratcher... If you're better than them... you're a scratcher.
If you are better than them, they're jealous therefore will pick you apart and judge your background, your technique, your place of business, what you did Saturday night, anything just to make themselves feel better. If you are still learning, still developing, and are new, they're judge you and say that you are crap and have no business in the industry as if they were just born with a machine in their hand and the industry is some super secret society you need a password for.. the password is "Get Over Yourself."

4) EGO.
When I walked into a local convention as while back, the cloud of ego smacked me in the face like a heat wave. Everyone thinks they're a rock star, all the other shops but theirs are crap. They walk around like what they do makes them so much better than anyone else and act annoyed and put out when a customer with money actually comes in asking for their business. I can't tell you how many customers I've taken from other artist's simply because I don't act like them asking for my business is putting me out. Bro, you draw and color for a living. It's the best job in the world. It's not that
serious. Relax. Smile. Have a Snickers...


Now I would like to say, this does not go for EVERY tattoo artist. I have several tattoo artist friends that are wonderful people. They love what they do, will give you constructive criticism and advice, treat their clients with kindness (as long as you don't dick them around) and are reliable. I salute them and say, keep doing what you're doing, we need more like you!

For the rest of them...

If you tattoo out of a kitchen... you don't get to say shit or judge anyone.

The rest of you... seriously.. chill. Just... CHILL.

Love my job, Love my Life.

-Casey

The 24 Hour Tattoo Artist

Last night after I closed the shop I went to a friend's house for a sex toy party. Why wouldn't I?
As with any party there was a mix of friends I knew and people I've never met but luckily I'm pretty good at chatting with people and networking and everyone was friendly so it was a pretty pleasant evening.

When a close friend was asking my opinion on a tattoo idea some girl over heard and their ears perked up and I knew it was coming.

"You tattoo!? OMG That is so awesome. Where?" Which then lead to several people flashing me their ink, asking me my opinion on additions, cover ups, and new pieces, as well as prices.

Before you knew it I wasn't "Casey", that friend of Jen's, I was "Casey" the tattoo artist and I was in full work, consultation mode.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. These sort of situations and events are amazing for networking and developing clientele but it just made me realize that a tattoo artist is never really "off work".

A week ago my father got married and I was in the wedding. It was my one day off that week and my phone would not stop blowing up with people sending me designs they wanted and appointments they wanted to book...

I should add this was an Irish wedding and I had been drinking since 3pm... The best I could do was keep answers short and simple and try to get back to them the next day.

Not to mention, once you become a tattoo artist. You see more of your friends and strangers than you ever planned.

The minute people find out you tattoo they're lifting up their skirts, taking off shirts, moving bra straps, exposing ever section of skin imaginable when just 5 minutes ago you'd just learned their name. I find it hilarious.

Sort of reminds me of summer time. Normally people cover themselves and would never imagine walking around in under wear and night gowns but as soon as it's summer it's totally acceptable to walk around in minimal clothes and swimwear that basically is just that.

Once you're an artist, you are one always.  Most of your business isn't even in the shop but when your out and about talking to people and handing out cards and answering questions and basically selling yourself and you're art.

When I go home I draw, when I'm out, I'm networking, when I'm at a family functioning I'm booking appointments.

We're like 7-11. We're not always doing business, but we're always open.

Not to mention, when you run into someone else who tattoos it's almost like two dogs sniffing each other's ass and sizing themselves.

"Where do you tattoo"
"How long you been doing it"
"What machines you running?"

They don't really care they just want to know if they are better than you.


The answer is... you're not.

Ok that's probably not true but attitude and confidence is everything :-)


If you must fight, fight for love,

-Casey

Female Tattoo Artist Vs. Stereotype Vs. Valentines Day. FIGHT!

"You're such a cool chic but..."

"You're like one of the guys"

Yeah... awesome.

There is no question that female tattoo artists are badass. We tend to typically just be better than the general female population and we do it with style. I mean, come on....

We get to sleep in while the rest of the world is shuffling like zombies to their 9-5 soul killing jobs. (Shops tend to not open until 11 or 12)

While you deal with the public and people and grit your teeth and bare it with a fake smile... we get to make those fuckers bleed... for hours.

You deal with paper work... we draw on paper.

You wait around for 2 weeks for a paycheck. We make cash money every day, sometimes more than your check.

BURN!

However...

In a male dominated industry females are finally starting to break out and become a regularly seen and accept occurrence. My shop currently is all female. WINNING.

We are finally being accepted as actual artists and respected and being published in magazines and made judges for contests, and I could not be prouder of my fellow vaginas. Get'm. We're not just tattoo models anymore.

This also creates the "friend zone" problem. By becoming a tattoo artist I've fallen more into the

 "Oh you're a cool chic, you're like one the guys"

"Oh you seem wild "

And the assumption that I don't like anything a normal girl would. That I'm just this wild, rebel, anarchists in a black bra.

Ok.. so.. they're sort of right. BUT...

I like flowers. Not tattooing them on you, actually receiving them. I get all sorts of stupid and excited about that shit.

I love Sex and the City and all those idiotic unrealistic romantic comedies. LOVE THEM.

Wild? I spend most of nights snuggled on my couch, reading young adult novels on my Kindle while drinking sleepy tea.

I cry. A lot. Over a book, meaningful song, moving TV commercial.. whatever. I cry.

I fall in love. A lot. I love being in love.

and are you ready for the real kicker?

I FUCKING LOVE VALENTINES DAY!

I do! I like the heart shaped donuts at Dunkin Donuts. I like the chocolate and flowers. February is a
dark and gloomy and depressing month. It's cold, it's gray, and snowing, mostly dirty snow. So pardon me if walking into a place and it's glowing pink and red isn't a bit of a nice change!

What I don't like is feeling like the fat kid picked last for dodge ball. I have pulled off being single for every Valentine's Day for 28 years. While everyone is dancing around with flowers and plans with little hearts floating around their heads, I'm home eating chocolate with my cat.

It's like I'm the only girl at the cool table without Lisa Frank Stationary.

So all I'm saying is, don't be quick to assume anything about your female tattoo artists. We'll easily kick your ass while not smudging out mascara or breaking a nail.

Oh.. and get your chic some flowers. Yes they die, oh well, don't get them for yourself then.

Forget me not,

Casey

How Tattoos Saved My Life

"Suicide Warning"

That's what it said next to my name on the dry erase board. That's how they rated us. Severe cases were "warning", less severe were "watch"... much like monitoring a tornado. They probably thought

that was cute.

Menniger Clinic, Topeka, Kansas

No 14 year old should ever know what the inside of a children's mental hospital looks like but I suppose  most 14 years don't tell their therapists they think about downing a whole bottle of pills and calling it a life either.

They take your shoes, they lock the bathroom, your not allowed to leave the ward for any reason. At least the food was good and it was an ego boost because I got to see that there were crazier girls out there than me. So... there was that.

I tell you this because it sets the stage of an endless parade of events pointing out my depression battle that will eventually lead to a point... I think.

For the next 14 years I would constantly be passed around from doctor to doctor being diagnosed with things like "bipolar disorder", "depression", "manic depression". I'd get put on pills, rearranged pills, until finally I would say

 "Fuck this, I'm not a lithium Barbie doll!!"   ... and just got off everything completely.

For the most part I survived that way for years. Yeah I'd have some good depression slums, or bi polar downswings, or whatever you want to call it but I called it... Being a female teenager and a product of being throw in group homes and handed a lot of bullshit. You'd be a bit wacked too.

Then came August of 2004.

I knew it wasn't going to be good if my aunt was driving all the way up to my college to tell me something.... I was right.

All she had to say was "Do you know about Steve yet?"

I didn't.. but right then and there, minute she said it... I knew.

Steve was my college boyfriend. It was the first time I experienced dating someone who could be my best friend as well as a significant other at the same time. He was good, he was funny, he liked tripping on pills.

It was the only thing we ever fought about.  It freaked out seeing him ground up over the counter medication and snorting it. So when my aunt came up I knew.. he had gotten to careless and took to much.

Apparently he mixed pills with tequila partying with his friends, went home, went to bed, never got up.... he was 19 year old.

At that moment every "worst day of my life" became irrelevant. The ground dropped from under me and pretty much anyone trying to talk to me sounded like I was hearing them from underwater.

I snapped. I started drinking heavily, even started hitting the cocaine.
I started toying with the idea of going out the way he did.
I started giving away things at school, not going to classes.

 "Tying loose ends" if you will.

 I didn't know how to deal so I decided I simply wasn't, I was just going to join him.

Then I saw the ad.

Local tattoo shop had a coupon for $50 off any tattoo. It then clicked. This is what I needed. I didn't know why it seemed like the logical plan but it did.

My biggest fear when losing Steve was that I'd forget him. That if I allowed myself to my happy and move on I was forgetting him and he was not longer important.

That day I got a small tear drop on my wrist. It wasn't epic, it wasn't huge. but it was enough.  A small reminder that he's always there.

After that I started going to class again, stopped drinking for a while, fell back into my swim team, graduated college with a 3.0 GPA which was a miracle in itself if you knew my academic records.

Queue to September of 2008...

I'd been in love and involved with what to this day I believe to be an angel in black for 3 years. He was everything. He was my best friend, my therapist, my lover, my personal musician, and the first person to ever put my on a motorcycle and know what real freedom is. He pulled me out of a darkness and into a light filled with laughter, music, pool tables, and bikes..

Then the cancer that had been teasing him since he was 16 took him from me at only 24 years old.

There are some assholes out there in this world that I wish death on, but this kind of pain... I wouldn't even wish on any of them.

What do you do when the rock you leaned on rolls away?

You go into a drunken binge for months.

I officially didn't give a fuck.

I hated my friends. I hated his friends. I hated my family. I hated happy people. I hated life. I didn't want life. I wanted him. I wanted to be buried next to him, which may I add, is where Steve was also buried.

I live my life for love. Since love kept ending in death, I just wanted to end in death too because I didn't much see the point to life.

A friend of mine could see the dark path I was going on and knew there was no way of pulling me out, except for one maybe one thing... he suggest I get a tattoo.

A few weeks later I got the money and I got a large one, right on my side, of my favorite pic of Tommy.

It was when he was sick but still well enough to play his guitar, an amazing moment and it was kept on my side forever.

I knew then he'd always be there, kicking me in the ass telling me...

"Bitch I wasn't even that great, get it together and move on! I'll be here when it's your time and YOU are NOT the one that get's to decide that"

Since then I have watched good friends, family, and my own mother pass away on me. I know how easy it could be to slip back into my old habits and somehow ink gets me through.

Not only this, tattoos helped me find where I belong.

I have been a fast food service worker, cocktail waitress, lifeguard, telethon operator, teacher's aide, substitute teacher, receptionist, t-shirt kiosk worker, and video graphics intern for the Binghamton Mets. I didn't fit in ANYWHERE. Until I broke into the tattoo industry.

What can I say, ink's in my blood and keeps me going.

Find what you love, and make it your life. Love is life.

-Casey