I got my first tattoo when I was 14. It was a pick-n-poke do,ne by my friend John. You see John had ordered a ‘tattoo machine’ starter kit, and it was due to be delivered the following day. I always dug John’s drawing style, he had the neatest way of drawing a skull. It just so happened there was a big party the next night; so we made plans to get thrashed do a full sleeve on me. Thing was, I wasn’t really sure I would be able to handle the pain (I had heard it was painful). We decided to do a small Celtic Cross on the inside my wrist. John had heard, it was one of the most painful places; you could get one. Since the plan was, to cover my entire arm the next day; it didn’t much matter how it looked. We decided I should be completely sober during it. We had heard that it would bleed less this way, and would certainly gauge as to whether or not I could handle the pain; after all things hurt less when you are thrashed.
He started by taking a nickle, ruler and pen and drawing the tattoo on my arm. He circled the nickle, and used the ruler to lay two intersecting lines; in the formation of the cross, inside of the circle. He then took a sewing needle, and proceeded to heat it with a lighter. He wrapped white thread around the tip of the needle, something like 30 times in total; and tied it off at the end, furthest from the tip. He got out his bottle of Indian Ink, and poured a little into the cap. He explained to me that each prick would only create a dot of ink, and he had to get it 3 layers into the skin; so he would have to tap the needle hard each time he made a prick. Dot by dot, the tattoo went into my skin, which mildly hurt. It was about 45 mins later and I emerged the proud owner of my first tattoo, complete with Vaseline, and a bandage covering it.
My mother was going to kill me. It was my mother’s opinion that tattoos were only really good for 2 things; identifying a person (living or otherwise), and making a living in prison. Though she’d come around eventually, and even get one herself one day; she gave me a ration of flack like you wouldn’t believe. I remember showing it off to a girl I knew, and she retorted “It’s nice and all, but why didn’t you get it in a sexier place? Like your shoulder or chest?”. I explained I was going to be getting a full sleeve done the next night, and it would be covered up in that process.
I didn’t end up going to the party that night. My girlfriend got off grounding, and you know how that goes; we had some catching up to do. Turns out, John died that night. He got wasted and decided to steal a car with a few mutual friends. Right about the time I was getting to third base, less that a mile away; he was losing control of the speeding car. He struck a tree, at an estimated ninety miles per hour; I was told he burst into flames instantly. For a long time after that, I didn’t consider the idea of a tattoo. The one I had, served not only as a reminder not to drink and drive, but that rightfully; I should have been in that car.
In the summer of 2003, my job had transferred me to Ft. Myers; I split with my wife, and survived my first season. I had made friends with two guys who worked for me, who both had tattoos. Bill was covered by quite a few tattoos, and some of them; I really liked. I decided that at twenty-six years old, I had waited long enough to make the decision to get another tattoo comfortably, and it sounded like the perfect way to celebrate coming into my own. With in a month, I got one between my shoulders just below the neck, and one on my left shoulder blade. I was hooked on tattoos.
Over the next 5 years, every chance I got I added a piece to my collection. By June of 2007, I had half sleeves on my arms, my other shoulder blade, my collar bone, the front of my shoulders, and one side of my ribs. I had made quite a few friends, who were tattoo artists. It was right about this time, I met Bobby; it turns out, Bobby was a tattoo artist himself. There was something about the guy, I just knew he was the one to do my tattoo commemorating my infant son. I had envisioned a full sock, filled with symbolism of things rooted in my ancestry (The reasons are a whole story by themselves). 24 hours in total, I would spend watching Bobby tattoo me. I had always asked a lot of questions regarding the process, Bobby answered them in a way; I plainly understood.
I had begun developing some skills in drawing and painting. I asked Bobby one night if he would teach me to tattoo. I didn’t think I was talented enough to becoming a professional tattoo artist, but I thought it would be cool to learn to do. Bobby agreed and took the time to rig up a tattoo machine to a pen, so I could get used to drawing with it. I wasn’t able to follow through learning, since my job suddenly transferred me back up to the Tampa area.
Weeks would go by where, I would dream of one day tattooing someone. Eventually I lost my job. My friend Jason from Texas (also a Tattoo Artist) sent me a package upon hearing of my job loss. I open the package to find a nice tattoo machine, a power supply, and some ink and other supplies; with a note that read “Your next career”. I thought it over for a few nights, and before long; I decided I was going to do what I’ve grown to love, and I called up my friend Bobby; to ask him once again to apprentice me.
Bobby told me he loved to, but out of respect for the guy (John) he was working for; he just couldn’t do it. He further went on to tell me, that John ran a school for the purposes of teaching conventional and cosmetic tattooing. Being the smart guy he is, Bobby further went on to tell me that Vocational Rehabilitation had paid for several students that had come through there in the past. It all clicked for me right then, I wanted to learn to tattoo; and I knew Voc. Rehab. would help me since I was hearing impaired.
For the next 5 month, I would jump through every hoop; and push through some of the hardest times. On January 02 of 2012, I stepped foot into the school for the first time as a student. I’m not sure if I have a natural talent for it, or John is just a really nice guy; but after five days, John gave me an apprenticeship. I take that back, I’m certain it is both, I am also certain that John is very knowledgeable and good at giving instruction. It is an honor to be mentored by John. I will write more about him in some future post, he is certainly a person worthy of notoriety.
All of this brings me to the point of this blog and this entire post. I know, “Will you get on with it already?”; but I have to mention in closing that it has been, as if this was providence. So because of these events, this blog; will be a journal of sorts, documenting and aiding in my quest to become a tattoo artist. I intend to provide technical data of how to and insight of the experience being a tattoo artist. Hopefully this will also provided a place of note for me to study by. I’m looking forward to keeping this blog for the rest of my life.
Stay Tuned,
T.C. Downey
Tattoo Apprentice
