Over the next few weeks, INKEDblog will be running a collection of tattoo stories collected by the New York based playwright, Justin Pelegano.
Proudly nostalgic. Monday-morning mundane. Gut-wrenchingly personal. Tattoo stories run the gamut. Sometimes ink’s about the art; Sometimes loss; at times celebration, beauty, rock, rebellion, drunken-party-hard, image, culture, community, and yep…sometimes it’s just about the feeling of a needle speeding through your body. Pick one. Because any way you look to it, tattoos can’t help but chart a personal history – on whatever level.
What follows are stories I’ve collected over the years from the inked and the artists alike. Interviews were conducted both in person and via e-mail, and many of these tales come directly from the artists’ mouths, culled while I’ve been sitting getting inked myself.
Truthfully, I’ve been at times touched, surprised, and brought to fits of laughter by these stories. All of which leaves no doubt in my mind that the tattoo culture is a fascinating one. Where possible I’ve included a photo of the tat in question. Enjoy.
... Justin

Stare Down
“Yeah this is Troy.”
“Troy man, my arm looks like a bloated ham!”
“Who is this?”
“Like a Vienna sausage!”
“Justin?”
“I can’t even get my fingers around my wrist!”
“Is she oozing?”
“Who?”
“The lady.”
“No, no…just…bloated ham, man!”
Not to sound hippie-dippy, but when it comes to tattoos I tend to let my body be my guide. Back’s calling out for ink? Best go big. Nerve-heavy underside of the wrist needs the needle? Best find an image to match. Seems ass-backwards, and maybe it is. I can live with that. For what it’s worth, I try hard not to rush the process. My success rate varies. Once I know where I want a tat it sometimes takes me months to find art I feel equally stoked on. This time ‘round it was the inside of my right forearm, and I’d happened across an amazing painting by the digital artist called Anjin. A perfect match. And I was going to lose my arm.
Yeah I’d corresponded with Anjin, and yes he was thrilled about the tat, and yeah Troy pulled it off cuz he’s skilled like that, and yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah. “I’ll never be able to clap again.” One day after our four-hour session (plus one much needed lunch break) my entire right forearm, and a few of my fingers, had swollen to three times normal size. “I’ll forever be known as Lefty.” The skin around the tattoo – a multi-colored female rendering originally titled “The Stare” – was so taut you could bounce a coin off it and get plenty of rebound. And the bruising was fierce. “Bitch!” I kept yelling at the ink. “Amputate my right arm, and no more push-ups for me.” Well, maybe that one’s a plus. Okay, yes, I was freaking. But I’d never swelled like that before. I was going to lose my arm.
“Relax. You’re not gonna lose your arm. It’s just the lymph. It will go down in a coupla’ days.”
“You’re sure?”
“You tattoo someone’s elbow, and that sh-- swells like a goiter. It’s lymph. Call me though if you’re still freakin, I’ll take a look at it.”
The inked among us love our tattoo war stories. We tell them with a proud nostalgia. Too bad this one feels like an embarrassing battle against an imaginary army; like the way I think of Civil War reenactments as a hobby you should keep to yourself. But share and share alike. The tat looks amazing.
Troy is Troy Denning, co-owner with his wife Jesse of Invisible NYC.
Anjin is an Illinois-based digital artist.
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