INKEDblog takes you beneath the skin of today's tattoo culture. Our mission is to celebrate tattooing as a modern art form which incorporates art, fashion, style, and pop culture. While paying homage and respect to the past, we look to present a contemporary take on the present and future of skin art. getinked@inkedblog.com

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Monday  Jan 09, 2006

Every BODY Has A Story - The Horse on My Ass

"The horse on the base of my back was my first tattoo. I had it done in 1997 or so. I can't remember what time of the year it was, but I was living in Yucca Valley, California--the middle of the f--king Mojave Desert. Three hours from Las Vegas, three hours from Los Angeles, three hours from San Diego. Really, three hours from anything good anywhere.

I was working for the court system in San Bernardino County and I had been playing with the idea of getting a tattoo for quite some time. One of the Sheriff's deputies who provided security for the courthouse was a tattooed freak (he really wasn't, I just can't think of any other way to describe him). Jerry finally had to limit himself to one new tattoo a month--he "collected" Vargas girls. [Ed. note: Nice going, Jerry]

At the same time, I was going through a divorce from my first husband. "Going through" is really rather a misnomer since really what happened is I told him that I was moving the f--k out and he wasn't welcome to come with me. File some papers, end of marriage.

I thought that I'd like to mark the change in my life in some permanent way. Jerry and I talked about a tattoo for me. It was kind of like being initiated into some sort of secret society. Jerry talked about colors and sizes ("If you're going to bother to do it, do it big!"). He eventually helped me design my horse.

On a Saturday, the two of us drove the hour and a half to San Bernardino (not a good place, it wasn't three hours away), and Jerry took me to his personal tattoo artist. I guess when you get one done each month; you end up with a personal artist. The tattoo took two and a half hours. The experience is really difficult to explain however, I think the best way I've ever described it is like feeling a hot butter knife being drug through your skin over and over again. The hardest part to explain to people is that this hot butter knife actually feels pretty damn good. Now I understood why my tattooed deputy friend he had to limit himself…

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